Besides, living with her here could never be suffocating.
Angelica shakes her head in disbelief but then runs toward me, and I have a second to prepare myself before catching her. She circles her arms around my neck and raises up on her tiptoes, her breath fanning my cheek. She whispers right before placing her mouth on mine, “I love you, Zachary King.”
The loud ringing of my phone once fucking again snaps me out of my only solace in this darkness that I’m living right now, and without looking at the display, I put it to my ear and say, “Yes.”
“Zach, it’s me,” Zeke greets me, his voice unusually raspy before he clears his throat. “She woke up. She knows about the baby. I sent her pictures to your email.”
My eyes open again as I grab my tablet nearby, pressing on the email icon, and my gaze lands on the tiny woman lying in bed, so pale she almost matches the disgusting prison hospital sheets, as nothing but hollowness fills her stare. Her cheeks are still wet from tears. The pillow under her face is practically soaked; she must have cried a ton of them.
Her entire face is bandaged up, and there isn’t a place on her body that hasn’t been bruised.
Ah, then it explains Zeke’s raspy tone. The guy can’t stand when women cry—sucker.
But then maybe life has never been very kind, despite the wealth attached to me since my very first breath on this earth. I learned from a very young age to never pay attention to anyone’s pain, because yours is far greater, the power of it so strong it might rip you into tiny little pieces if you let it.
“Did she ask any questions?”
“She wanted to see the body, but we convinced her it was impossible, since so much time has passed. She then demanded to know what happened to the body.” Funny how the murderer, who didn’t admit to what she did despite all the evidence, demanded to see the proof of her daughter’s death.
People are such hypocrites, but it doesn’t surprise me anymore.
“We took care of that. Filled in some application showing her the baby had to be cremated. I think it was the final nail in the coffin for her.”
At his words, the part of me that used to love a woman deeply comes alive, regret dancing on the edge of it before I crush it.
She does not deserve my compassion, and whatever happened to her is the result of her doing. All our actions and reactions in this world have consequences, and we have to be ready to answer for them.
“Good. And the other thing?” I ask him, not wanting to prolong the stupid conversation about Phoenix Hale, because I’m getting too bored with this topic.
Besides, it’s not like I can do much to her while she is recovering in the hospital, but once she’s back in her prison cell… it’s game on.
My life’s mission will be her suffering.
“The paperwork is a bit complicated right now, but I’m working on it. You’ll have to pay a fortune for this. It’s expensive to keep everyone’s mouth shut,” he says, and I shrug even if he can’t see it.
“Money is never an issue for me. Have it done as soon as you can.”
“Right.” I’m about to hang up on him, but by his heavy breathing, I know he is not done yet, staying silent, so I decide to help him out. After all, he is one of my most trusted employees, even if he voices his opinions too often for my liking.
“Don’t worry, Zeke. All this makes me a monster, not you.”
“She is destroyed, Zach. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so crushed that she is ready to crumble. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she died the minute we told her about the baby. Her soul left her body. She is like a fucking ghost.”
And it’s supposed to make me feel what? Remorseful?
Hell would freeze over before that happens, and even then, I won’t ever regret anything I have done to her.
There is something I’d like to know though. “Do you know what she wanted to name her daughter?”
I hear the shuffling of papers in the distance, as if he is looking through some documents, and then he finally replies, “Yeah, she called her Emmaline.”
Emmaline.
A beautiful name for a little a girl indeed.
Without saying anything else, I press the Disconnect button and throw my phone on the table where it lands with a loud thud then swipe the image on my tablet to another one.
At this one, something in my chest, which I thought died several months ago, pangs.
My heart.
My heart that should have stayed cold but still showed its weakness, and in this, I did something I should have never done.
But then… when did I listen to anyone but myself, even if what I’m about to do is insane on so many levels?
Chapter Five
“People say that time heals all wounds, and the pain that freezes us from the inside out becomes just a fleeting memory. Instead, there is a permanent sting in place of it that reminds us of what we lost, but it’s no longer the raging inferno that has the power to destroy us.
I thought it was true until Zachary King happened in my life.
After that, time stands still for me while pain continues to come, with no way of escaping it.”
Phoenix
New York. United States
Three and a half years later.
Phoenix
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I squeeze the mop tightly into the bucket and wet it again to scrape the floor in the prison toilet area, although it’s a fool’s job, considering everyone is stepping through here every five seconds.
Apparently, today’s soup was shit, and upset stomachs have hit everyone hard, but then that doesn’t surprise me. Olivia, bless her soul, has no clue how to cook anything, and by the smell of rotten vegetables alone, I understood not to touch the dish.
Although one of the things prison has taught me is that you don’t turn your nose up at any food no matter how bad it smells or tastes, because there are no other options to sustain your body to work.
Not that hunger is particularly my driving force, as living has no big meaning for me after….
My hands on the mop tighten so hard my knuckles become white and my breath hitches in my throat as the memory of the doctor looming above me and informing me about my little girl flashes in my mind.
Shaking my head to block it away, I continue to clean. Doing any kind of work here is the only reprieve I have from the nightmares that haunt me every single minute of my good-for-nothing life.
But I don’t let that deter me as I think about all the medical terms in my head, which helps me concentrate on my task and ignore the loud moans coming from bathroom stalls or cries of pain from the kitchen when newbies are taught a lesson.
When you spend so much time here, you get used to certain things and don’t pay attention to them, not if you want to live anyway.
The most absolute law here is to mind your own business if you want to live peacefully and not have anyone attack you. And it might sound weak and pathetic, but I’ve learned to bite my tongue whenever someone suffers.
“Hey, Phoenix!” Sara shouts from the doorjamb, and I turn around to face her as she points behind her. “Kathy needs your help. She cut her hand or something while peeling the potatoes.” Pushing the mop aside, I wash my hands and quickly run to the kitchen where Kathy sits on the chair, holding her hand up as the blood slowly drips onto the cold tile.