Sins of the Mother: A Paranormal Prison Romance (Sinfully Sacrificed Book 2)

by Mary E. Twomey

  I balk at her, impressed on so many levels. “So they’re going to open up those boxes and find the underwear with no thread to hold them together, riddled with gaps and holes?”

  “Yup.” Then Cass pops a chunk of banana into her mouth. “Bask in my brilliance, mortals.”

  I marvel at her and offer up a demure applause while the others sit there with their mouths hanging open, pleasantly speechless. “You’re incredible. I mean, I never would have thought about that. I didn’t even know we were trying to take down Natalia’s Secret as our goal.”

  Cass shakes her head. “I’m not trying to take them down. I’m trying to force them to be better. If they can’t rely on their free labor, then they will have to start doing things the right way. Wicked people who get free toys all the time don’t really learn to be better people. I want to change their minds, change their behaviors, take away their crutch,” she pauses to shake her head, “not take away a selfish brat’s toy for the day.”

  I mull over her wisdom, wondering when it was that I settled into the rhythm of ultimate takedown being the only viable solution to most problems. I want to blame my dad for that logic, but I’m in my late twenties now, so my worldviews are my own.

  “I’m still all about getting out, but you can have more than one goal. Hope is a weapon. It’s a tool.” Cass focuses on her next bite of food, and I can tell she’s given herself this talk many times, because it flows from her easily. “I don’t want to help just myself. I want the world to change. So I’m starting with a big business, hitting them where it hurts. Hopefully, they’ll take that wound and learn to walk differently. Learn to be better.”

  I have no words. I can only feel grateful and humbled that I get to be around such an amazing person.

  I’m also covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Even though the prison is perpetually cold, I’m sweating, sitting down and conversing with my friends.

  I really hope I’m not coming down with the flu.

  “I love everything about you,” Charlotte marvels to her girlfriend.

  “Love you, too, my little burrito supreme,” Cass kisses Charlotte lightly on the lips, blushing at the compliment she well deserves. Then she points at me with her spork. “You look like crap, by the way.”

  And just like that, she’s good old Cass again.

  Charlotte speaks for me. “None of her bruises are healing. They’re just piling up. I don’t understand it.” Charlotte reaches across the table and places her hand atop mine. “The latest beating during laundry detail was too much. Whatever medicine the new nurse gave you did nothing to speed along your healing.”

  I wave them off, but even that motion isn’t pain-free. “I’ll ask to go to the infirmary tomorrow. Maybe Nurse Jen will be back.”

  Paxton’s mouth is firm. “I don’t like this. You still walk like you’ve been freshly beaten. And you’re covered in sweat. You look ill, darlyss.”

  Gray joins in, echoing Paxton’s worry. “It’s getting to the point where I’m not sure if hugging you hurts you, and does more harm than good.”

  I huff, wishing they didn’t all have such valid points. “I said I’m going to see Nurse Jen tomorrow. Though, I’m not sure what she’s going to do about bruising, other than numb the area so it doesn’t hurt so much. And everyone comes down with the flu every now and then.”

  Charlotte stares off into the distance. “No. Today. It needs to be today. You need a chemure tab.” Examining her more closely, I see she’s got that clairvoyant look about her that tells me there’s more to her advice than a simple suggestion.

  Everyone at the table stills, and for a moment, the mess of noise that’s constant throughout the cafeteria fades into the background.

  My lips purse as I jab my spork at my mashed yams. “I don’t need a chemure tab. And anyways, that’s not something a patient just gets because they ask for it.”

  “Then you’ll have to steal it. Nurse Jen keeps them…” Charlotte pauses, like she’s checking someone else’s mental file for the answer. “She keeps them in the bottom drawer.”

  I dread asking her the question that’s no doubt on all of our minds. “Any particular reason I should be asking for a healing pill that’s used on people coming out of a dire surgery?”

  Charlotte blinks, like she’s trying to see through the wall and into the future. “I don’t know, but you need it. We need you to take it.”

  Gray touches my fingertip. “If we have to make a run for it, then you have to actually be able to run. Maybe that’s it.”

  Paxton’s mouth pulls to the side. “The chemure tab isn’t supposed to be taken unless you’re severely compromised, and you cannot heal on your own.” He stands abruptly. “Now. You have to go to the nurse now. If Charlotte’s vision is hinting that you’re severely compromised, then there’s more going on than just bruises that aren’t healing.”

  A shock of anxiety shoots through me, but I do my best to maintain a level disposition. “You lot are overreacting. I’m totally fine. I’ll heal up. And like I said, I’ll go to the infirmary tomorrow. I don’t like Nurse Jen’s replacement. Maybe she’ll be back tomorrow, and I can go see her then.”

  Gray’s jaw ticks, but it’s Cass who speaks up. “Today. Charlotte calls the shots on this, so if she says this is what needs to happen, you’ll swallow whatever denial or fear is keeping you from marching your way down to the infirmary, and move your skinny butt down there.” I open my mouth to argue, but she stills my protest by pointing her spork at me. “If you’re willing to ignore Charlotte’s vision, which you know will cause her pain, then you’re the spoiled princess I thought you were before I got to know you. Put your hang-ups aside and do what you need to for the team.”

  I don’t like this. Everything hurts, and has for too long. The medicine Nurse Kyle gave me has made my joints feel like there’s no lubrication. Every motion causes a grinding on my bones.

  My stomach roils as dread climbs. “Charlotte, your vision wouldn’t tell me to take a chemure tab unless something was very wrong.” I drop my plastic utensil and lean my elbows on the table, cradling my head in my hands. “It’s all well and good for you to tell me what to do, but I’m the one who has to deal with it. I’m the one who gets to worry about what kind of diseases are swimming around in my body that weren’t there before I got here.”

  As soon as the panic pours out of me, Gray and Paxton each band an arm around my back, forming a wall of protection and support.

  Voicing my fear is that first step. But I don’t feel any better. I only feel worse, now that I’ve stopped running from my worry and it’s spilled out all over our table for my friends and boyfriends to dissect.

  The denial was getting me through so much. Now that I’ve voiced my concern, my joints ache that much more. The hunger that constantly eats at my insides now feels like knives rocketing around in my belly. I can feel every bruise on my body afresh, and there are too many to count.

  Gray grips my shoulder and gently massages. “Go on. It’s going to be okay.”

  “Unless it’s not,” Cass says indelicately without a shred of pause. “The sooner you go to the infirmary, the sooner you get to the bottom of this.” Her blunt demeanor comes across as harsh but necessary. It’s her way of letting me know she loves me.

  “I love you, too.” And I really mean it. I love all four of them.

  And as much as I want to run and hide from every terrible thing, they love me too much to let me. Though I have no appetite, I finish off my biscuit, and then make to stand.

  Involuntary grunts escape me so often these days. I’m not supposed to let people see me falter, but I’m barely upright. The fact that I’m not howling about my pain is something I count as a victory, however small. My stomach protests the biscuit (and pretty much everything else these days). It takes me a few bolstering seconds to convince myself I won’t vomit if I get up.

  Paxton stands fluidly beside me, his hand still across my back. He gives Gray a nod, and for the life of me, I
don’t know how I got so lucky that they communicate so seamlessly with each other.

  Paxton is careful with me as he walks me over to the nearest guard. Every step feels like too much. I’m better at running from the things I don’t want to feel, and this whole thing is rife with everything I can’t touch, for fear of my whole world collapsing. Walking towards it into certain doom isn’t something I have the strength to endure on my own.

  As much as I don’t want to cling to anyone, in this moment, I know I cannot let go of Paxton’s arm, because it’s the only thing guiding me toward the intervention that might save my life.

  25

  Bloody Mess

  Arlanna

  Officer Johnson hesitates when I ask to go to the infirmary. “Let’s give your injuries some time to heal. I’m not sure the infirmary is the place for you right now.”

  It’s clear he holds the same level of distrust for Kyle that I do.

  “She’s quite sick,” Paxton insists.

  When a shoving match starts up a few tables over, Johnson trots toward them, leaving me with my flu and my creeping dread of what else could be wrong inside my body.

  Instead of taking no for an answer, I amble toward Officer McGregor, leaning heavily on Paxton.

  It doesn’t take more than a feeble, “I’m not feeling so hot,” for Officer McGregor to give me permission to go. “Sure, Princess. You’re looking a little green around the gills. I’ll take you down.”

  Paxton squeezes my hand, but even that small affection makes me wince.

  McGregor and I walk in silence down the many hallways, with him slowing his quick pace to match my unavoidable limp. I wish Officer Johnson had been the one to escort me.

  Officer McGregor isn’t as stalwart as many of the others. He’s always reading his paperback western at his desk during sewing detail, and rarely asserts himself because he knows we’re adults and don’t need a firm hand. So when he comments on my fatigue, I don’t bristle. “You don’t look so good.”

  I pause to brace myself on the wall. “Must’ve forgotten to put on my makeup,” I joke, though there’s no smile anywhere on me. I don’t know if it’s my nerves, but every step I take makes me feel weaker, less steady on my feet. I’ve been careful thus far this morning, not to exert too much energy. Now it’s getting to the point that merely walking is churning the knives in my gut.

  The wall is cold, while every part of me feels sweaty and gross. I rest my clammy forehead to the concrete, my breath coming labored and heavy. I try to calm my stomach, but it keeps roiling. Daddy’s advice to never let them see me sweat is a mountain that’s too high for me to scale right now.

  Officer McGregor speaks into his comm, telling the nurse to get the room ready for me. Then to me, he says, “If you’re going to hurl, wait until we get to a bathroom. I don’t want to…”

  But I can’t hold it back any longer.

  I expect puke to pour out of me as my stomach finally protests loud enough. But that’s not what happens. There’s vomit, sure, but it’s stained crimson as it splashes on the wall and the floor.

  I can barely breathe; the vomit is coming so forcefully.

  Officer McGregor is shouting and swearing as he hops backward, calling for help into his comm.

  My whole body begins to tremble. Is this what it feels like to go into shock?

  Another guard races down the hallway as I drop onto all fours, the blood choking out of me with too much force. My eyes water as tears stream too quickly for anything to quell. I can’t even beg for help. There’s no one I trust in view anyway.

  When the ginger-haired nurse charges toward me, no part of him looks surprised. Rather, Nurse Kyle looks like he’s feigning concern. Even through my haze of tears, I recognize the act well.

  Dread coils in my raging stomach. I was healing just fine with Nurse Jen, but after I was jumped and then treated by Nurse Kyle, that’s when things started to go south. I stopped healing as fast. The shot he gave me was supposed to speed along my progress and dull my pain.

  And now I’m vomiting blood.

  The next flood chokes out of me, along with relief, as if my stomach is sighing at having forced out the last of whatever it wasn’t too happy with.

  Nurse Kyle crouches beside me, a few inches from the puddle of blood and sick. “I’ve got her. Here we go. This will help.”

  I scream when a syringe comes out. “No! I don’t want it!”

  Nurse Kyle frowns at me, and then chuckles up at Officer McGregor. “You don’t want me to put a stop to your sickness?”

  “I don’t want the medicine. Don’t you dare touch me with that needle!”

  His voice takes on a soothing quality that makes me want to punch him. “Now, now. This is my job. I’m here to help you, Arlanna Scarlett Valentine. Hold still.”

  “I said no!” I have no weapons as he aims the needle at my thigh. I have nothing to fend him off with, other than the contents of my stomach.

  I don’t even bother cringing as I slap my palm in the pool of crimson sick and smack his hand away from me with it.

  The façade of the kindly nurse slips away, revealing the murderous scowl beneath. “You’ll let me treat you, one way or the other. I don’t care if I have to strap you to the table. You’re getting your medicine!”

  “It’s your medicine that’s making me sick!” Though I have no proof, I’m certain this is what is happening. I’m weak and I might be partially deranged, but I will fight off Kyle’s “help” with everything in me, which granted, isn’t much.

  Officer McGregor speaks up. “She has the right to refuse medical attention,” he reminds Nurse Kyle. “I’ll take her to the showers to get her cleaned up, if that’s what she wants.”

  I nod up at him, but Nurse Kyle isn’t having it. “She needs this medicine! Now hold still and stop being difficult!”

  “No! Don’t touch me!”

  I don’t expect him to attack me, but maybe I should have. He ignores the vomit and lunges for me, slamming me against the wall so I can’t squirm away.

  Everything hurts while I shriek out my horror. My bones grate against each other, and my sore hip goes out completely. I go for his eyes, because that’s all I can think to do, clawing at him while he tries to locate a good place to stick the needle.

  “You bitch! Too good for me, as usual. Too good for your own medicine!”

  I don’t have anything but more struggle, which is rapidly turning softer than is needed to fend off the attack. “Why are you doing this?”

  The beady hatred in his eyes tells me this is about far more than him wanting to replace Nurse Jen on the roster. “Did your father think I would fade away, simply because he fired me? He took everything away from me, so I’m simply returning the favor. You’re his everything! Soon enough, he’ll get to bury his everything!”

  McGregor is too shocked to be useful.

  I scrabble to scratch out his eyes, but my swipes are useless, with how depleted I am. “Help!” I shout into the air. Maybe I’m calling for Sloan. Maybe I’m calling to myself, rallying the last vestiges of whatever fortitude is left in me.

  Please let there be enough of me left to outlast this attack.

  There’s shouting as more officers finally come around the corner, but Officer Johnson’s voice carries above the din. “What are you doing? Get off her!”

  Johnson. Officer Johnson. Finally, someone I trust.

  Officer McGregor reaches for Nurse Kyle, but not before I feel a puncture in my shoulder that draws a scream from my lips. An icy burn rips through my arm, just like the first time.

  “I’m coming!” Johnson’s voice bounces off the walls as he charges in my direction, his face stern and positively heroic.

  Terror rips through me at the needle that’s still in my shoulder, even as Nurse Kyle is dragged away and cuffed on the floor.

  Officer McGregor shouts to Johnson, “Get that needle out of her and call the warden. He just confessed to trying to kill the princess. Careful with he
r!”

  I never thought most of the officers cared all that much about us, but they all wear matching expressions of revulsion and concern.

  Officer Johnson is my safe person, even with his often gruff exterior. I’m not sure how I shook loose his compassion, but the two of us understand each other more than most.

  Yet, even when Officer Johnson’s hands come near me, I scream for him to back up.

  Maybe I didn’t need to scream at him. But I don’t want anyone touching the needle. It’s my hand that grabs it out of my shoulder, making sure the serum doesn’t dispense into my body. It hasn’t been plunged all the way yet, which means this little thing is evidence.

  Officer Johnson holds his hands up, as if I’m the one in charge. “Careful. Don’t touch the end. Whatever that is, it’s halfway drained.”

  Tears cloud my vision. “It is?”

  He hesitates, and then nods. “Do you know what it is?”

  I shake my head as I pull out the needle, noting that indeed, half of the serum is in the tube, and half is inside of me. “He gave it to me before, and now I’m vomiting blood. I need Nurse Jen.”

  “She was supposed to come in today, but no one heard from her, so Kyle covered her shift. She’s been absent for almost a week.”

  More panic rips through me, though I have no idea how unfounded my fears might be. “Send someone to check on her. Send Sloan. He’s on my visitation list, so his number should be there. If Jen was supposed to be here today, she would be here.”

  Too much new information is coming at Officer Johnson. “I’ll have the warden look into it.” He glances over his shoulder. “McGregor’s taking Kyle away, so you don’t have to worry about him anymore. And I’ve got this… whatever it is, so that’s taken care of, too.” He holds the needle away from his body.

  A third officer chimes in. “I called the EMT, since Jen isn’t answering her phone. Help is on the way.”

  But something starts moving in my body. I can feel something wearing on my bones, more than the heaviness that comes from one’s stomach being emptied.