Tortured Teardrops (Tamara's Teardrops Book 3)

by P. D. Workman

  “But that’s not what happened?”

  “I could hardly hold her. She was so strong and tried so hard to get back up.” Tears streamed down Tamara’s face. She tried to swallow the big, hot lump in her throat. “I couldn’t do it again. I couldn’t do that to Julie too. So… I stopped. I didn’t know what to do. I knew when they got back from work, they’d find Corrine, and then… if both the babies were dead, I wouldn’t have to stay there. But if Julie was still alive… I didn’t know what would happen.”

  “You knew better than to shake her.”

  “No. I… Sometimes she would start to cry, and if I gave her a shake, she would stop. Like, she was startled, and it would stop her… for just long enough to find her soother, or think of something else… I couldn’t let her cry, because Mister or Missus…”

  “Tell me how it happened.”

  “I don’t know… I don’t even know. She was screaming after Corrine… drowned… because I had to put her down, and nobody was holding her or looking after her. I shook her… but she wouldn’t stop. Mrs. Baker was screaming at me. I couldn’t think of what to do to make Julie stop… and then she did, for a few seconds. And I got her a bottle, and fed her… and I thought she was okay, but she kept fussing and spitting up… She was acting really tired, but she wouldn’t go to sleep. Kept throwing up and then… she was just…”

  “Mrs. Baker was home?”

  “No. She was out at work. Mr. Baker was out… he finished work, but he liked to go do other things. Leave me with the kids so he could go… do whatever.”

  “But you said Mrs. Baker was screaming at you when you were trying to calm Julie.”

  “She always screamed at me when they cried.”

  “Even when she wasn’t there?”

  Tamara shook her spinning head. He didn’t understand. It didn’t work the way he thought.

  “She doesn’t like the babies to cry. So she screams at me to keep them quiet. Or if I can’t get them quiet, or I did something really bad, then she takes me… and whips me.”

  “It was wrong of her to do that and it makes me angry that she would treat you like that. It must have made you upset too.”

  “She just… hates me when I let the babies cry… she wants to hurt me…”

  “Before Corrine died? Or after? Which are you talking about, Tamara? Do you mean now?”

  “She’s not here now.”

  “No.”

  “She hates me. She says she does. And it hurts so bad…”

  “What hurts? Her words? Does it hurt your feelings when she talks that way?”

  Tamara rubbed her burning legs. “It hurts. She hurt me so bad. But it didn’t matter. I still had to work. Go to school. She didn’t care.”

  “She shouldn’t have done that.”

  There was quiet for a few minutes. Tamara tried to pull herself out of the whirlpool and think in a straight line, like Dr. Sutherland and everyone else. If she could just think straight, she could keep them all from hurting her.

  “Tamara, wouldn’t you like it if you didn’t have to hear them anymore? Wouldn’t it be better if we took the voices away?”

  “I can’t,” Tamara despaired. “I already tried and it didn’t work.”

  20

  IT WAS A relief to get back to her own cell. Tamara was so glad to get away from the eyes of the observers behind the windows. And she was glad to get away from Dr. Sutherland’s questions.

  She was sure that he had triggered the flashbacks on purpose. He wanted to get her wound up and feeling worse so that she would agree to take the pills he prescribed. And she had almost agreed. But in the end, she had managed to hold out and pretend to be normal long enough for them to move her back to her own cell.

  But there had been several new transfers in, and she returned to her cell to find that it was occupied by another inmate.

  “This is my room!” Tamara growled, immediately territorial. She stepped out of the room to make sure that she had, in fact, entered her cell and not someone else’s by mistake. It was her cell. She looked back at the guard who had escorted her back to make sure that she was right about the room, and that she hadn’t returned to her old cell by mistake. The guard looked at her and nodded.

  “You have a roommate.”

  “But I was…”

  Tamara knew very well how it worked. She only got a cell to herself for a short time, and then a new transfer would be assigned to her. They had let her stay odd man out for a few months, choosing instead to fill Tabby’s and Waterson’s places and to shuffle others around. Tamara had gotten accustomed to being by herself and thought that being an old-timer, she had earned the right to her own cell.

  “Sorry, but we’re full up. Can’t put her anywhere else. You’re going to have to adjust.”

  Tamara turned her eyes back to her new cellie, not pleased.

  “Bottom is mine,” she snapped, even though the fact was obvious, and the new girl hadn’t staked a claim.

  “Yeah, okay.” The girl’s eyes were wary, scoping Tamara out and trying to get her measure. “Top is fine with me.”

  Tamara spun around, looking over the rest of the cell, making sure that the girl hadn’t touched or moved anything. A second hygiene kit was on the top of the dresser, but it hadn’t been touched yet, and Tamara’s seemed to be where she had left it before going to court. She turned back to face her new cellmate.

  “I’m French. Who are you?”

  The girl’s head twitched to the side and back again. “Becky Chase. Aren’t you the one…”

  “You don’t know me, so don’t act like you do,” Tamara cut her off. “Just stay out of my way and we’ll be fine.”

  “Okay.” The girl’s voice was small. It grated on Tamara’s nerves. Chase wasn’t going to get anywhere by using that tiny, little girl voice. She’d get beaten up, or eaten up by the Sharks. She’d be recruited in two minutes by one of the gangs and that wasn’t a recipe for staying safe from harm, no matter what the gangs told her.

  “Toughen up,” Tamara grumbled. She knew she was echoing the lessons that Glock had given her. Glock had been right; she had known what she was talking about. “You gotta be strong and assertive, don’t be a little girl.”

  Chase frowned, not understanding.

  “You listen to me because I’m your cellie,” Tamara said. “But if you let everybody push you around, you’re going to get hurt. You need to stand up for yourself. Got it?”

  “Uh…” Chase processed this, comical in her attempt to come up with the correct response to the conflicting advice. “I will. Yeah.” She straightened her posture, trying to look more confident.

  Tamara had to shake her head. Had she ever been as green and uncertain as that? She remembered the way that Glock used to ride her, telling her to stop acting like a naive little princess and not to let anyone walk over her. It hadn’t been an easy path.

  “You need to make your bed,” Tamara told Chase, indicating the sheets and blanket piled on it. “There might not be time later on and you don’t want to catch trouble because it’s not ready at lights out.”

  Chase looked over at the bare bunk. “I’ll do it later,” she said, trying out her assertiveness.

  Tamara shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.”

  There were footsteps in the hall. Tamara looked up when they stopped at her door. Zobel looked in.

  “You’re back. I see you met your new cellie.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You let me know if you have any problems.”

  Tamara rolled her eyes. “You think I’m gonna have trouble with one like this? She’s not going to bother me.”

  Zobel gave her a smile. “Maybe I was talking to her.” He turned his attention to the greenie. “I’m Zobel,” he informed her. “And yeah, French here gives you any trouble, you talk to me or one of the other security staff.”

  Chase’s eyes widened. She looked back at Tamara. Zobel laughed. “She isn’t likely to cause you any trouble. That’s why you
were put in here. Just give us a heads-up if you do have any trouble with anyone. Right, French?”

  Tamara scowled. The security staff knew very well that snitching on a cellie or filing a complaint about another juvie was likely to lead to more problems, not less. But what was he supposed to tell her? Keep quiet about any abuse? Don’t come to us if there’s a problem? They had to say that they were there to help and that they would take care of any problems. Chase would have to learn for herself just how far to take the advice.

  Zobel raised his eyebrow, giving Tamara a look that she interpreted as meaning he wanted a private word with her. Kicking her greenie out to fend for herself while Tamara talked with him was probably not the right thing to do, so Tamara headed to the door.

  “Catch you later, Chase. Stay out of trouble.”

  Zobel stepped back from the doorway and they both walked down the hall in the same direction.

  “Good advice,” Zobel said. “How about you? Are you staying out of trouble?”

  “You know me better than that.”

  Zobel chuckled. “Unfortunately, that’s been true too much lately. I gather everybody has cleared you? Back to normal?”

  “Hospital cleared me. Sutherland and Psych cleared me. So, yeah. All back to normal.”

  “Are you… feeling up to it? You’re okay?”

  Tamara stared at the end of the hallway, not looking at him. “What other choice do I have? Here or where? Stay in Psych? What else am I going to do?”

  “Well, if you weren’t up to it… stay there a little longer or get moved to Forensic. See if they could help you get straightened out.”

  “I’m done with shrinks.”

  “Okay. It’s just… I know things didn’t go well in court.”

  “Don’t want to talk about it.”

  “What about when you go back? What’s going to happen then?”

  “I’m not going back,” Tamara said flatly. “That’s it. I only had one chance to testify against him.”

  “No, I meant… your other trial. You’ve got another court date, don’t you?”

  Tamara’s heart sank when she realized he was right.

  Next she had to testify at Glock’s trial.

  Tamara had been pretty calm when she got out of Psych, happy to be back out on her own recognizance and away from the mental poking and prodding. But Zobel’s remarks didn’t serve to make her happier. She walked back to her cell, bubbling with impotent fury. She wasn’t mad at him for reminding her about her second court date. But her anxiety over the second trial going over like the first made her want to throw something. Or hit someone.

  “Hey,” Chase greeted, when she walked in, opening her mouth to ask Tamara something. She saw Tamara’s face and closed her mouth, going pale.

  Tamara picked up her current read from the top of the dresser and threw it across the cell. She didn’t throw it at Chase and, seeing as it was only a paperback, it didn’t do anything more than hit the wall and then the floor with a soft thud with some new bent corners. Chase flinched away anyway, raising her hands in a half-placating, half-defensive gesture.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Tamara threw herself down on her bunk and covered her face with her hands.

  “Nothing wrong,” she growled. “Leave it alone.”

  Chase stood there looking at her. “Okay…”

  “Don’t need you staring at me, either.”

  Chase shifted. “Do you want me to go, then?”

  It was obvious from her voice that she wasn’t ready to face the rest of the unit yet. She wanted to just shelter in her room and not have to go to the common room and face the gangs and the rest of the girls. She was smart to be nervous about it.

  Tamara wondered briefly who Chase’s senior mentor was. Someone should have been assigned to her to help make the transition easier. But whoever it was, it would appear she had dropped Chase off in her cell and abandoned her there.

  “You don’t gotta go. Just give me my space.” Not that she had any space, now that she had a cellie. “Read a book or have a nap.”

  Chase was silent. Tamara spread her fingers so she could see Chase through the cracks. The girl was considering Tamara’s suggestions.

  “This book…?” She indicated the one that Tamara had thrown.

  “No, I’m reading that one. There’s some in the dresser.”

  The dresser had open shelves rather than drawers, so that nothing could be hidden from sight. Maybe that made it a cupboard rather than a dresser. But Chase knew what Tamara was talking about and didn’t have any trouble finding the small stack of books piled on one shelf. She took them out to look through.

  “My—I got a visitor who brings them to me,” Tamara said. “If you like something particular, I can have her bring it.”

  “These are great, thanks.” Chase made her selection and climbed up into her bunk, moving carefully and keeping an eye on Tamara.

  Time dragged on. Tamara was annoyed every time Chase turned a page in the book or put it down with a bored sigh. One of the hardest things to adjust to in juvie was getting used to doing nothing, a skill that Tamara couldn’t seem to re-learn and that Chase didn’t yet have a clue about. At least Chase hadn’t tried to initiate a conversation with Tamara, getting all chummy and asking her about her past. That was the last thing Tamara needed.

  The dinner bell rang, and they could hear feet and voices all through the block as people left their cells or other activities and headed toward the canteen.

  “Supper,” Tamara announced, getting up. “I’ll show you where it is.”

  Chase could have followed her nose or the other girls, all of whom were headed in the same direction, but it wasn’t just her navigation skills Tamara was offering. Chase was the junior cellie, and it was Tamara’s responsibility to help her get settled and learn appropriate behavior. Maybe it was the administration’s newest ploy to get Tamara to behave herself. Have her teach someone else the rules.

  “Finally,” Chase groaned. She jumped down from the bunk beside Tamara.

  Tamara looked at her, then looked at the bunk.

  “You can’t leave anything on your bunk. You have to put the book back.”

  Chase rolled her eyes. “I’m just going to come back after dinner and read some more.”

  Tamara shrugged. She wasn’t going to nursemaid the newbie and force her to follow the rules. If she didn’t want to listen to Tamara’s warnings, she’d suffer the consequences. She headed to the canteen, Chase stuck close to her side. Tamara gave her a glare.

  “Give me some space.”

  “Oh.” Chase adjusted, putting a few more inches between them. “Sorry.”

  Tamara moved a bit farther from her and Chase maintained the distance. Tamara didn’t say anything else on the way to the canteen, keeping a sharp eye out for any trouble. If she had a newbie to babysit, she had to be twice as alert as usual, and she didn’t know what kind of damage her rep might have suffered as a result of landing in Psych. No one challenged her on the way there. Tamara noticed that Chase’s pace picked up as they neared the canteen; she headed eagerly for the serving counter when they entered. Unless she was malnourished—and she didn’t look it—she wasn’t likely to be too excited about what she found there.

  “Slow down, Chase.”

  Chase looked back over her shoulder. “Why?” She slowed her pace slightly.

  “Look around and be aware.” Tamara drew closer so she could lower her voice. “Watch for problems. Who’s around you. If you cut in front of someone important, you’re going to be in trouble.”

  Her brow furrowed, Chase waited for Tamara to catch up again. Tamara was scanning the canteen to see who was already there, both seated and in line.

  “This is stupid,” Chase complained. “How am I supposed to know who’s important and who’s not?” Her mouth twisted into a sneer. It was obvious she figured she should have some standing. She might be a newbie, but she had an attitude.

  “Ri
ght now, you’re lowest man on the totem pole. Everyone else is ahead of you. You’re new. You’re green. You’re unaffiliated. I don’t know what you’re in for, but being bad on the outside doesn’t make you something in here. This is high security. You don’t get in here for shoplifting candy bars.”

  Chase folded her arms over her chest. “So what do I do?”

  “Get in behind me.”

  The other girl’s nostrils flared as Tamara passed her in order to get into the line. “So all of that was just so you could get into line ahead of me?”

  Tamara didn’t bother to answer. She scanned around before she actually slid into place in the line, making sure, as she had told Chase, that she wasn’t cutting ahead of anyone important.

  Brett, the girl ahead of Tamara, looked up and down the line as she stood sideways, facing the warming trays. She twitched an inch farther from Tamara, sneering. “What are you doing here?”

  Tamara struggled to keep her response low-key. She wanted to pop Brett right there. Just out of hospital and Psych, she needed to reassert her hierarchical position and ensure she didn’t backslide. But with a newbie to look after, at least until Chase made a decision about joining one of the gangs, Tamara had to be cautious.

  “Same old, same old,” she murmured. “Where else would I be?”

  Brett, stiff and ready for an overblown reaction from Tamara, blinked in surprise. “They put you on meds, or what?”

  Brett had better hope so, because Tamara wasn’t going to forget Brett goading her. Once she was free of her responsibilities…

  “I got eyes on me or you’d be on the floor right now.”

  Brett was a good fighter. Tamara probably wouldn’t have been able to get her down when Brett was the one initiating a fight. She’d have to catch Brett off guard for that. Maybe one day soon, she would do just that.