Chapter 17

Now.

No, no, no, no, no!

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

The girl who visited me today was not the girl I knew. She’s changed. Something had to have happened to make Emmy turn into the others, become the overbearing, demanding bitch that sat across from me.

She acted like our relationship was nothing to her. Like I was nothing to her.

God, I need a drink.

I’d even take bucket booze right now if it meant I could drown out everything that just happened.

Nothing is going right.

When I got back from our visit, I paced around my ten by eight cell muttering curse words under my breath. I wanted to destroy something. Crush the life out of the next person who talked to me.

Instead, I grabbed my pathetic pillow off my bunk and took to smashing it against the wall until I grew sweaty with exhaustion. Breathing heavily, I collapsed onto my bed, ignoring the loud squeaks that the springs made as I landed.

Then I stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes trying desperately to collect my thoughts.

Nobody was doing what they were supposed to anymore.

If they would’ve just let me handle things like I’d planned, then it all would’ve worked out. I wouldn’t be dealing with any of this bullshit.

Now I’m being backed into a corner. Forced to take action. And after everything I’ve done, all the ways I’ve proved myself to be superior. They want to take everything from me…

And then there’s Him. He’s always there. Always wanting more. More bodies, more blood, more, more, more. Not that I’m not cut from the same mold. I’d wanted to do the things I’d done. Killing seemed to fill up the darkness in my soul. Until He’d begun whispering in my ear though, I hadn’t fully realized my potential. How good I’d be at it. And how satisfying it is, too. Killing. Defiling. Disposing. He makes it easier to do what I’ve always dreamed of. We’re a team and He’s the only one I’ve ever trusted. The only one who truly understands me.

He’s a part of me and I of Him.

Yet still, I’d wanted to keep something for myself.

Emmy.

She was meant to be all mine. I’ll never let Him touch her. I never even told Him that she existed. Because she’d been perfect. A representative of the life I wish I had, with a girl who loved me like no one else could…

So, because she was my perfect little girl, I never told Him about her. I knew what He’d want to do to her if He knew she existed or what she meant to me. He’d want to have her, too.

Well, He met her today. Saw the real Emmy for the first time. And just as I suspected, He wants her now, too. Said she’ll only cause problems for us. And after our visit, I can’t disagree.

But even though I know this to be true, and Emmy’s no longer my perfect little girl, I still don’t want Him to have her.

That’s why I need to get out.

I’d planned on going through the system, fighting it out in trial, because in the end I knew I’d win. Now there are other circumstances to consider.

Like time.

It’s ticking down.

In my cell, I’d gotten up from my bed and walked over to the sole window in the room. It was the size of a toaster, but it was enough to see outside. The courtyard is large, but completely enclosed by concrete walls, which extends at least thirty feet into the air. San Quentin is a maximum security prison, one of the toughest in the state. Maybe even in the US.

It won’t be impossible to break out of here.

But it will be complicated, and I prefer to take the easy way out if at all possible.

That way I can focus my attention on Emmy.

I’d ambled over to my cell door, which was open since we were free to walk around the cellblock for a few hours each day. Heading several doors down, I’d slowed and then stopped at another bunk, leaning against the cold metal and crossing my legs at the ankle.

“Hey, Pritchard,” I’d said.

Pritchard is a white kid, about twenty-one years old, who came in just before me. He’s barely old enough to drink and already he’s looking at spending his best years in prison. He isn’t what you’d consider a smart guy, so his charges will most likely stick. A part of me feels bad for him, because he’s gonna pay the price for someone else’s sins. He’d been the getaway driver for a few buddies who’d killed a man during a robbery. He hadn’t even been with them when the murder had occurred and yet he was doing their time.

Poor shmuck.

“Grafton! Yo,” he’d said, surprised to see me at his cell door. He’s a little scared of me, though he tries to hide it behind youthful bravado. He has nothing to worry about, of course. I have no real interest in him and he isn’t a threat to me. He’s just background noise.

Well, he was until now.

Now Pritchard could actually be of some help to me.

“What’s up?” the kid had asked, suspicious but not hostile.

“You had your arraignment the other day, right?” I’d asked.

“For sure. Bitch-ass appointed lawyer tried to burn me up. Kept telling me to plead guilty,” he’d said, leaning back on his bed like we were hanging out at his house. “I mean, what kind of shit is that, anyway?”

“Which courthouse they take you to?” I’d asked.

“Marin County,” Pritchard had said. “I remember, cause my buddy had to appear in court there once. He was lucky and got off though—”

Focus, Pritchard.

“What was it like?” I’d asked, still trying to keep things light.

But Pritchard knew something was up. Boy isn’t a genius, but he isn’t a retard either. Luckily he just gave me a funny look, but didn’t call me out.

“Typical court. Lots of suits. Metal detectors. Dick cops. Horrible coffee. The holding rooms weren’t all that bad though. Even gotta piss on my own for once. Lunch they gave us was better than the shit they serve here, and that was out of a vending machine!”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” I’d said, though the last thing I cared about was what I was gonna eat. Truth was, at that moment I’d known how I was gonna get out.

But I didn’t need someone like Pritchard going around telling people I’d been grilling him about the facilities. If I were caught before I made a run for it, I’d be done. So, I made like I was just taking an interest in his life. Like a normal person might.

“You end up pleading guilty? My lawyers are telling me to do the same thing.” They all had. Only, I’m not stupid enough to do it. I hoped for Pritchard’s sake he wasn’t either.

He’d shrugged and suddenly looked sheepish. “The other side came and made a deal. Said if I gave specifics, they’d only give me the minimum. Figure, I can do fifteen months easy. Make me look hard when I get out, too.”

If he lived long enough.

But I’d just nodded. It’s not like I could’ve helped the kid now. Why clue him into the fact that he’d just signed his own death warrant? Let him be proud of himself for a little bit longer.

“Cool,” I’d said. “Good luck with that.”

“Thanks, man,” he’d answered, all puffed up because he thought he’d just gotten props from the real deal. He’d probably tell the other inmates we were boys.

After leaving Pritchard’s cell, I’d made my way to the end of the hallway and leaned over the metal railing to try and find one of the COs. When I’d finally spotted one, I banged lightly on the railing to get his attention.

“Hey, boss! I need to get in touch with my lawyer,” I’d called out to him. “Can you help me out with that?”

I’d tried to be clear that it wasn’t a demand, but a request. The guards respond better when you act like they’re in control. Being in here is like playing a game. If you know the rules, you can make it to the end.

The guard had sized me up, but didn’t respond right away. Then, slowly, as if he were taking his good old time, he’d spoken into his walkie-talkie. A few seconds later, someone was squawking back at him.

“Head on over and they’ll try to get him on the line,” he’d said, nodding in the direction of the guard station on our block.

I waited nearly twenty minutes to talk to him, but soon I had my lawyer—a guy named Joffrey, who is severely overpaid for how little he’s done for me so far—on the phone.

“Everything all right, Kyle?” he’d asked when the guards finally handed over the phone. “They treating you okay in there?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, Joff,” I’d said, trying not to sound too excited or anything. “I was just wondering if you have a date for my arraignment yet? Sort of itching to get this thing started, you know?”

This wouldn’t put up any red flags; I definitely wouldn’t be his first client to request getting the show on the road. Especially if posting bail was a possibility.

“Next week, buddy. Monday morning,” he’d answered. He sounded more like a talent agent than a lawyer. Like he made his living blowing smoke up people’s asses, not getting them out of prison. “You were actually on my to-do list today, so you saved me the call. I’ll meet you at the courthouse and fill you in on everything there.”

“That’s great, Joff,” I’d said, although I would’ve preferred that the date be sooner. I’ll have to wait three days before I can get out of here.

Three days might be too long to wait…

I have to get to her.