Insatiable

by Allison Hobbs

  “Time’s up, ladies. Visiting hours are now over,” announced one of the guards in a booming voice.

  “Damn, you had me running my mouth so much, we didn’t get a chance to take care of any business,” Melissa grumbled. “Look here, I’m gonna send you some forms to sign. Like I said, I can fight your case on the outside better than you can handle it from in here. You’ll be hearing from me real soon…okay, baby?” Melissa blew Kai kisses and gave her a final reassuring smile.

  Chapter Fifty-six

  “Single file, ladies…up against the wall,” the correctional officer commanded the female prisoners as they streamed out of the visitors’ room. Dazed, Kai trudged to the end of a long line of women clad in garish orange jumpsuits.

  It had all happened so quickly…the unexpected visit from her birth mother and the devastating news she’d imparted. Kai’s entire life, it turned out, had been a complete sham, a cruel joke. She, Kai Montgomery, was not the biological daughter of an affluent Mainline surgeon as she’d always believed.

  She was nothing…a nobody.

  In truth, she was the spawn of a cheap, conniving hooker and quite possibly a fucking water ice man! Making matters worse, her adoptive parents had abandoned her, leaving her behind with that despicable creature posing as a mother. If that fast-talking schemer was the only person she could depend on, Kai knew she could just kiss all hope of freedom goodbye.

  She was utterly alone.

  Overtaken by agonizing despair, tears clouded her vision.

  As they waited in line, the woman in front of Kai shifted impatiently from foot to foot, and then turned around. There was a raw jagged scar on the woman’s right cheek. No doubt, a knife wound. Kai grimaced.

  “I hate it when they make us stand around like this,” the scarred inmate complained. “All it takes is for just one knucklehead to get caught tryin’ to sneak somethin’ in here and the next thing you know, they got us all on lockdown.” She twisted her lips in disgust.

  Repelled, Kai shrank from the woman’s intimidating presence, nodded her head and then quickly looked away. Making eye contact might encourage this revolting convict to try to engage her in more jailhouse conversation.

  Then, quite suddenly, an awareness of a more profound truth overwhelmed Kai.

  The power of the revelation took all the breath from her body.

  If her entire life had been a lie, then everything she believed about class distinction must also have been a lie. Thus, she had to accept that she was no different than this disfigured, common criminal or any of the other disadvantaged people she had looked upon with such contempt.

  Feeling lightheaded and grieving the abrupt loss of her former well-to-do identity, Kai’s knees buckled and she began to slide down the wall.

  Grabbing Kai around the waist, the inmate broke her fall.

  Kai looked into the woman’s eyes and what she saw shook her to her very core.

  She saw centuries of pain and suffering, strength and endurance, triumph and failure, compassion…hope…and love.

  This woman whose worth she’d been so willing to disregard just a moment ago, was now gazing upon Kai with unconditional love and sisterhood. And in that instant, she knew that her incarceration and life sentence for a crime she did not commit was retribution for all the hatred she’d felt and the pain she’d inflicted upon so many innocent people. Feeling deeply ashamed, Kai shuddered as the emotional catharsis traveled through every cell in her body.

  “Hey, you okay? Do you need to go to the infirmary?” the inmate asked.

  “No, I’m okay. I’m fine; I just need to get back to my cell and lie down.”

  “Girl, you almost passed out. Now, you know this ain’t the time to be going off by yourself. You’re new here, right?”

  Kai nodded.

  “Girl, you can’t make it in this place without a friend. You need somebody to look out for you. Oh, check me out…I’m just runnin’ my mouth and I ain’t even introduced myself. My name’s Shanita, but they call me Neet.”

  “Hi, Neet, it‘s a pleasure to meet you,” Kai said, in an uncharacteristically kind and sincere voice. “My name’s Kai and I‘d be honored to be your friend.”

  “Honored! Damn, girl. It’s all good and everything, but you ain’t gotta put yourself out there like that,” Neet said, laughing. Kai joined in the laughter.

  “Quiet down, ladies,” the correctional officer boomed.

  Kai girlishly covered her mouth, stifling more laughter.

  Her former life had been filled with the finest of everything from European vacations, haute couture fashions, luxury cars, and daddy’s inexhaustible funds, but none of those things had ever given her as much joy or gratitude as this woman’s timely offer of friendship.

  “You wanna hang out in my crib for a while—play cards or watch a little TV?” Neet whispered.

  Kai didn’t even bat a condemning eye when Neet referred to her cell as her “crib.” Nodding her head enthusiastically, Kai accepted Neet’s offer by mouthing the word, “Okay.”

  “All right, ladies, move it!” commanded the correctional officer.

  In the day room, clusters of women wearing serious expression engaged in card games, checkers, backgammon, and chess. The TV was dark and silent. No television until four in the afternoon. If an inmate wanted to enjoy TV before that time, she had to purchase her own.

  “That’s my crew back there.” Neet pointed to a group of women hunched over a huge piece of fabric. A sewing group. Their facial features were relaxed, their chatter sounded upbeat—more energetic than the other women in the day room.

  “Whassup, y’all? This is my new friend, Kai,” Neet said. “She’s gonna be hangin’ with us now.”

  They looked up from their work, curious. They’d all heard about Kai—the callous murder she’d committed, but there were no judgmental sidelong glances, no utterances of disapproval.

  “How you doin’ Kai,” said an elderly black woman. “My name’s Selma.”

  “Whassup, girl?” asked a hardened white woman who sounded black. “They call me Pinky. Don’t ask me why ’cause ain’t nothin’ on me pink no more. Not even my gums.” Pinky, obviously a heavy cigarette smoker, laughed and coughed simultaneously.

  “So, what’s your story?” asked a young Hispanic woman.

  “Um…I don’t,” Kai stammered and began twirling a dry ringlet. “I really don’t know where to begin.”

  “Well, don’t even worry about it,” said Selma. “Sit down and join us. We all got a story and we’re telling our stories through this quilt.”

  Kai looked at the quilt, which was sewn together with fabric remnants that represented different aspects of a woman’s life. With bits of material from baby clothes to prison garb, the women were telling their stories.

  “Ain’t nothing but time in here,” Neet offered. “Talk when you’re ready. In the meantime, you might want express yourself on this quilt.”

  Kai had never sewn a thing in her life, and was too ashamed to admit it.

  “Heard you was rich,” Selma said, shaking her head sadly. “Can’t sew, can you?”

  Kai shook her head.

  “We’ll teach you,” Neet chimed in. “Like I said, ain’t nothin’ but time up in here.”

  Smiling hopefully, Kai hugged herself. She’d taken the first step toward healing the self loathing and alienation that had haunted her entire life. This feeling of acceptance and belonging was a soothing balm.

  But there was still work to be done. Forgiveness. She had to learn to forgive herself. She hoped God would forgive her and consider her unjust incarceration as debt paid in full.

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Most days Terelle was left alone in bed in her room with minimal stimulation, but due to the possibility of an impromptu state inspection of the facility, the nurses had gotten her out of bed and situated her in a Geri-recliner in the sun room.

  Terelle’s body was twisted into a rigid, bizarre fetal position. She lay motionless,
eyes wide open, but unseeing. There was no reaction to her surroundings; she was uncommunicative. Clinical and support staff swept past Terelle as if she were an inanimate object.

  Family and friends had sadly accepted that she’d had a nervous breakdown; snapped under pressure, which forced a break from reality, a disconnection from life. In essence, a living death.

  For almost a year, those who loved her had been trying through prayer and vigilance to bring Terelle back to life. Recently, their visits to the facility had become painful and unrewarding, dwindling down to just once or twice a month.

  The term, nervous breakdown, was no longer used by health care professionals. Terelle’s condition was diagnosed as Catatonic Schizophrenia. She was treated with antipsychotic medication and antidepressants. Nothing worked. There was little hope for recovery. She had become a forgotten person who was provided only basic care. Terelle was hand-fed by unenthusiastic nursing assistants, rarely washed, and her adult diapers were only changed when the stench became unbearable to the staff.

  Thus, the tiny whimpers she emitted as well as the slight shift in her position had gone virtually unnoticed all day.

  Until the whimpers became a scream.

  It was a long and loud, blood-curdling, God-awful, bone-chilling scream that sent staff scurrying in the direction from whence it came.

  Startled into awareness, Terelle heard the scream, too. Turn it off! her muddled mind demanded. Somebody, please turn it off! But the scream blared persistently. Oddly, she could feel it vibrating inside her. The horrible sound, she now realized, came from her own widely stretched mouth. But why? What could possibly cause her to produce such a gut-wrenching sound?

  Panting and winded, staff stampeded into the sun room and surrounded her. Worried faces peered down at her. Attempting to take vital signs and checking for injuries, the nurses prodded and probed the screaming and thrashing woman named Terelle.

  Now frightened and confused, she pleaded with her eyes for them to make it stop. Make it stop! Make me stop! She shouted in her mind as her wrists were being restrained.

  Then suddenly, the restraints reminded her of something. But what?

  Handcuffs! Oh my God! Someone was handcuffed. There were handcuffs on television—on the news. On Kai! Then the memories flooded her mind.

  Now the scream took the form of a word—a name.

  “Marquiiiise!” she screamed in a tortured voice. Her eyes, once beautiful, were now tormented and wild. “Oh God…Marquise…I killed him. Marquiiiise.”

  “She’s delusional!” the charge nurse said as she quickly injected a needle into Terelle’s arm.

  Terelle tried to fight the drug; she had to make them understand it had been a terrible accident. She didn’t mean to kill Marquise; she loved him. From the depths of her soul, she loved him. Then she felt herself sinking into the drug-induced void, but she fought to hold on to herself. She fought to hold onto the realization of who she was and the terrible thing she had done, but to no avail.

  Her screams dissolved into a muted wail as she sank deeper and deeper into nothingness.

  All that was left of her revelation was a single tear streaming down her face.

  And then came sweet oblivion. At least for a while.

  About the Author

  Allison Hobbs is the author of Pandora’s Box. She lives in Philadelphia, where she is working on her third novel. Visit the author at www.allisonhobbs.com.