by Jenika Snow
“Having you here, knowing motherfuckers look at you like that, do lewd fucking things to you right in front of me and I can’t do anything about it, has this rage filling me.”
I gave his hand a squeeze back. “Don’t worry about them. They do that shit to get a rise out of people. This is about you and me. This is our time, okay?”
He nodded and closed his eyes, lowering his head and kissing my knuckles.
“I miss you so much, Arsen.”
He swallowed and opened his eyes, only holding my gaze for a second before looking away.
“Harper.” He said my name, his voice a guttural groan, his pain evident. “You should leave. You shouldn’t come back, not here, not seeing me like this.”
“I’m not going anywhere; do you hear me?” He shook his head and exhaled. “Look at me,” I said, urging him to focus on me. He lifted his head, his dark hair short, slightly disheveled. The man I’d fallen in love with had changed, that much was clear. He stared right into my eyes, and I into his. “I won’t leave you. Ever.”
Chapter Five
Arsen
One fucking hour.
That’s how long I had outside a day. Apparently killing a lowlife motherfucker and getting locked away meant you only got to see the light of day—literally—for sixty damn minutes.
But unlike every other day I looked forward to these sixty minutes. I had one goal in mind, and that was to teach that motherfucker who’d looked at Harper, who’d thought he could make sexual gestures her way, that there were repercussions.
Once outside I stood there for a second, staring at the barbed-wire fencing that surrounded the courtyard and the tiny fucking swatch of grass off to the left.
Some prisoners leaned against the chain-link fence that separated the courtyard into two sections, while others played basketball, lifted weights, or sat on the picnic benches and watched with a hawk’s eye.
It wasn’t unusual for a fight to break out while everyone was congregated in the same area.
A row of workout equipment, aged by the sun and worn down by use, the weights clanking clanked together and the noise echoing in the air as prisoners used them. There were guards stationed all around the enclosed area, a few in the towers catty-corner, their bird’s-eye view and rifles giving them a perfect advantage to lay out any motherfucker who got out of line.
And they had used those rifles more than once during my time here. I’d seen a few assholes get laid out—justifiably so, but dropped regardless.
I could either play some ball with the others or work out.
I opted to pump some iron, beef myself up good and big. Because while inside you had to eat or be eaten, kick ass or be someone’s bitch.
And I sure as hell wasn’t anyone’s bitch.
So working out was what I did. I was a big motherfucker now, bigger than I had been when I was on the outside.
I thought about Harper, how I missed her when she left, how I wished things could be different. I had at least five more years in this motherfucker, and I was counting down my time, thinking about finally being able to hold her in my arms again.
What would she say when I finally admitted everything to her—that she was mine, always had been and always would be?
And then I saw him, the motherfucker who’d looked at Harper, who thought he could be a fucking asshole to her. I made my way over to him, ready to fucking kill him, or at the very least beat the shit out of him and put him in his place.
“You motherfucker,” I said low when I was right in front of him. He was on a bench press, the sweat glistening off his chest and face as he stared at me. A group started to form around us.
Shouting and curses rang through the air, the prisoners knowing what was about to go down. They were getting hyped up. I rolled my head on my neck, adrenaline pumping through my veins. This was going to be a dirty fucking fight.
The fucker put the weights back and stood, his chest rising and falling as he stared me down.
“You don’t want to go there, boy.”
I didn’t react. He was a big bastard, but since being in here. And what I had going for me was the fact he’d done something down and dirty toward my girl. That always had my blood boiling, had me seeing red. That would give me the upper hand because I had something worth fighting for.
He stepped right up to me, our chests brushing together, the testosterone moving between us. I stared the fucker right in the eyes, picturing the filthy gesture he’d done to my girl. It didn’t take much to set me off where Harper was concerned.
“You think you can take me?”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. He could see this was a done deal in my eyes, that I was sure.
He made the first move, swung out first. I let him hit me, let that pain of his fist slamming into my cheek fuel me on.
All bets were off, but I had to get the job done fast because the guards would break this shit up before it could get real violent. I swung out, knocked my fist into his side, heard him grunt and felt my body get even more pumped with violence.
We grappled, punches getting thrown, blood filling the air. It juiced me up. All I could picture was Harper’s face, the way she’d looked shocked at the fucker, how my innocent girl was subjected to this fucking place.
I punched him in the side of the head, went for his gut, kneed him in the balls. He doubled over, grunting. I didn’t stop, just saw red, saw all the shit that could happen to someone as pure and perfect as Harper if she were with a bastard like me. I’d already ruined her life, killed her father … right in front of her.
I found myself knocking the asshole to the ground, straddling his chest as I went to town, hitting him over and over again. Blood covered his face, my hands, his chest. It was everywhere, the viscous fluid thick … fuel in this place. I heard shouts, cheers. I forced myself to stop even though I wanted to kill this prick.
I stumbled back, looking at him on the ground. He was alive, the lucky bastard, but he’d be hurting. He’d think twice before ever doing that shit to Harper again. And if not, I wouldn’t stop myself next time.
Next time I’d slit his throat from ear to ear on principle alone. That’s what this place did to me, turned me into. I was a monster, a bastard who wanted Harper so damn badly despite knowing I wasn’t good enough for her. I never would be.
But hell if I could stop myself.
Chapter Six
Harper
I looked over the last invoice and marked off the two discrepancies that I’d noticed. I set the form aside and leaned back in the chair, staring at the computer that was off, the screen black, the only sound coming from the hum of the fan overhead kicking on.
Over the last few years I’d been focused on work, saving my money, my thoughts on when Arsen would finally be released, and the life that we could have once he was free. Since he was sent away, all I’d been doing was trying to live my life the best way I could, but with him gone, a little piece of myself was absent, the void in my life strong.
I had no dreams right now, none aside from the time that we could once and for all leave this shitty town and start over somewhere fresh and new. We both needed that.
I’d sold my father’s home two years ago, taking the first offer because at that point in my life I just wanted the fucking thing gone. It had been a reminder of all I’d gone through and all I’d lost.
And although I was pinching every single penny I earned, only living on the bare minimum, I was comfortable and content. The one thing that kept me going was thinking about Arsen.
The way he used to smile when he saw me, the life that he could’ve had if things had been different. I thought about that a lot.
My weekly visits to him brought that life back in me, had me genuinely smiling because things felt right in the world when I was with him.
And when I had to leave him, that light I felt was gone, like a candle’s flame being blown out.
I hoped when he was released, we could work on building up every
thing we’d lost, that he could find that center in his life once more, because if anyone deserved a do-over, it was him.
I grabbed my purse and headed out of my little corner and toward the front entrance. The only person still here was Neil, who looked worse for wear as he went over a client’s file. He was locked away in his office, his desk lamp on, his shirtsleeves rolled up, and this tired look covering his face. I didn’t say goodbye and risk bothering him and drawing him out of his focus. I knew well enough to leave him alone when he was on a deadline for court.
I headed out and locked up the front door, standing there looking up at the sign. Although this wasn’t my business, I pretty much ran the financial logistics of it all. I was the oil that ran the engine.
When Neil had found out what happened with my father and Arsen, he’d been one of the only people to show me true and genuine concern. The rest of this fucking town looked down at me, calling me trash, trouble. I ignored them and focused on what was important, which wasn’t them.
Neil had been there for me when I needed him, helping me get out of the crappy little barista job I had, and employed me so I could earn some real money. He’d given me the job Arsen would have had if not for the shit that had gone down. So, in a way—in all the ways, to be honest—I felt like I was honoring Arsen and what he’d earned by getting that job.
The fact that Arsen had probably been coming to my house to tell me he’d gotten the job, probably so damn excited over it, only to be dragged right down to hell, left this darkness in me. But I didn’t want to bring it up when I talked to him on my weekly visits, with the whitewashed walls and glass surrounding us, the clank of chains securing him.
Bringing that up just seemed like rubbing life in his face, something he wouldn’t have because of where he was.
And so when I was offered the position, I’d accepted, knowing that the extra money I made would go toward a life Arsen and I could have together. I’d make sure that was our reality.
Because I knew for certain that when he was released, I would tell him how I felt, I would explain that I’d kept my feelings from him all this time because at first, I hadn’t wanted to ruin our friendship, and then after because I’d been too afraid to tell him the truth while he’d been locked up. To be honest it felt wrong, telling him something so game changing while we couldn’t do anything about it, while he couldn’t fully process it behind bars.
No, I should’ve told him years ago, well before now. I should have opened up my heart, laid it all out for him and watched where the chips had fallen. Because his rejection would’ve been a hell of a lot better than him in prison. His rejection could have stopped all of this from even happening.
That I could’ve dealt with.
I faced the street and saw the late-night café open, a few customers sitting out at the bistro patio tables. The Christmas-style lights hung along the awning, this romantic ambience settling over at the little café. A few cars drove by, the center of town pretty quiet for a Friday night.
I started to make my way toward my car, my heels clicking on the cobblestone detailing of the sidewalk. I glanced to my right and saw my reflection as I passed one of the large windows of a boutique, the woman staring back at me one I’d never thought I’d see. Chignon-styled hair, a cream button-down blouse tucked into a pinstriped pencil skirt.
To anyone else I might look like I had my shit together, that I was doing well for myself. What they wouldn’t know was that I’d gotten this outfit, shoes included, at a secondhand store, had wasted an hour trying to get a stain out of the blouse, failed miserably, and just decided to keep it tucked in so it wasn’t noticeable. I’d spent thirty dollars on it all, but despite the price tag, I felt like a million bucks wearing it.
I felt like I really did have my shit together even though most of the time I was falling apart.
What Arsen didn’t know, what I didn’t tell him, was that seeing him, even if he was chained up, even if I couldn’t pull him in close and rest my head on his chest, was my lifeline. I looked forward to that every week, needed it like I needed to breathe.
He’d always been crucial in my life, my rock, the one person I could count on no matter what.
That would never change.
When I reached my place, I pulled into the driveway, threw the car in park, and cut the engine. I sat there for a moment staring at the one-car garage that was filled with boxes of things that I’d kept from my father’s house. I didn’t bother unpacking them because this place wasn’t a home. It was a temporary house where I could sleep and eat.
I rested my head back and closed my eyes, listening to the sound of the engine cooling and making this soft ticking noise that filled the interior. It was almost calming.
A dog barked in the distance, and I opened my eyes. I couldn’t stay in here forever, couldn’t lock myself away in this steel and glass cocoon, no matter how appealing it sounded.
I climbed out of my car and grabbed my purse, shutting the door softly behind me and staring up at the house I rented. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was a corner lot in a cul-de-sac, and my neighbors liked their privacy as much as I did.
I went into the house and shut the door, locking it behind me and tossing my purse onto the small secondhand couch to my left. I could see pretty much the entire first floor, aside from the bedroom and bathroom, at the initial glance.
The kitchen was open concept, the linoleum once white but now a muted yellow from age and wear. The dining room table had come with the place, just a two-seater with the scratches down the legs and gouges on the top, as if someone had taken a knife and run it down the center.
I pushed away from the door and headed into the kitchen, grabbing the handle of the refrigerator and pulling the door open. I bent at the waist and rested my arm on the door of the fridge, staring inside at the contents. It was pretty bare, just like how I felt on the inside.
I reached out and grabbed a carton of milk. I shut the door and checked the expiration date. It wouldn’t surprise me if it had gone bad already. When I saw it was safe to drink the milk, I headed over to the stove and grabbed a pan, poured the milk inside of it, and reached for a bar of chocolate I knew I’d stashed away for when I was in an especially cranky mood.
A cup of hot chocolate would make an otherwise crappy day tolerable. Watching the milk start out white, then turn tan before ending in a deeper brown, my thoughts were on Arsen. They always were.
Looking over my shoulder at the fridge, I stared at the picture of the two of us, a Polaroid taken by a mutual friend. It was in perfect condition because that was the most valuable thing I owned.
I turned the stove off, poured the contents of the pan into a mug, and turned and walked toward that picture. I stared at it, seeing two kids. God, we’d been so damn young, so impressionable and innocent. Well, I had been. Arsen had always been rough around the edges, but then again that’s why I’d loved him.
From the moment I’d stumbled into his life, I’d felt like I was meant to be by his side. A gawky teenager had been an understatement where I was concerned. Compared to him I’d been this geeky girl who hung out with the bad boy. But we’d been like peas and carrots … chocolate and milk.
I stared down at my mug, seeing the perfect combination.
Just like us.
The picture had been taken so long ago … a lifetime ago. Arsen had his arm wrapped around me, pulling me close to his body. I had my head resting against his side. He wasn’t looking at the camera, instead down at me, a small smile playing on his lips. I’d never thought anything of that, the fact he seemed so content in that moment as I grinned like an idiot for the picture.
I lifted my hand and ran my finger across his image before curling the digits toward my palm and resting my arm at my side.
I could get through this. I would.
There was no way around it. When Arsen was finally out, I’d tell him exactly how I felt. I’d move heaven and earth to make sure I was finally honest with him
, because I’d wasted too much time. I’d hid too many of my emotions from him, and that had taken a piece of me away.
And until he was back, there would always be this hole inside of me.
Chapter Seven
Arsen
Five years later
I thought I would be nervous, my body strung tight, my anxiety high. Strangely enough, I was calm and collected, focused. I was getting out today, freedom just a locked door and gate away.
I’d been thinking about this moment since the day I was locked up, and although the time had finally come, it was almost as if I was walking through a fog, not sure what to expect right in front of me.
But today I’d be able to see Harper without chains holding my hands down, without the stench of containment keeping us apart.
I stepped up to the counter and didn’t say anything as my personal belongings were pulled out from the standard prison-issue plastic bag, the officer reading off each individual item before setting it in front of me. I looked down at the suit I’d worn the day I’d come in, seven-year-old blood splatter stains across the brown material.
The image of the night that had put me behind bars played through my head over and over again. I felt no remorse, no guilt. I’d done what I’d done to protect Harper.
I’d do it all over again to make sure she was safe.
It seemed like a lifetime ago, as if a different person had worn this outfit. I refused to put it back on to leave this fucking place, and instead wore a plain white T-shirt and prison-issued sweatpants. The shoes were slip-on, white and scuffed from wear, ugly and a memory of what had been my home for the past seven years.
Once the process was all said and done, I was let out of the holding area, the heavy metal door pushed open for me by one of the guards. I lifted my hand as the sun blinded me momentarily.