Bella's POV:
"So, what are you in for?"
I could almost roll my eyes at how many times that question has been asked to me. I usually ignore it all together, yet, today feels different somehow, so I answer nonetheless.
"You know, how there are times when you get so angry you see red and you don't remember what you've done once you cool down? Well, I've always had a hard time keeping my anger in control. I've alway seemed to get the short end of the stick, but that just makes you realize how hard life truly is for some, more than others. See, we all have choices in life. Some tend to be difficult, while others are...less difficult.
Well, It's even more difficult when you have to live through what I've lived, seen, and been through.
As the daughter of the police chief, you could say I've brought shame to the man himself. Well, except for the fact that the man himself is as corrupt as they come.
Everything would have been fine, I would have moved on like nothing ever happened, except for the fact that I was taken to the wrong jail precinct.
Just with Georgio Lawrence, and it all went downhill from there. That mother fucker managed to pin a different crime on me. So, here I am doing time for murdering three different people, when I know for a fact I only did one in.
Anyway, the whole reason I am here, in the stoney lonesome is for one reason and one reason alone. His name was Michael Newton.
That abusive, chauvinistic , sexistist pig was a piece of work. Thought it would be alright to force me into complete isolation, all while cheating on me with all the motherfucking bitches that crossed his way.
I let it all slide, for what reason I still don't know till this day. Naitivity? No, perhaps my own stupidity. Or maybe I still held out hope that he would change. Anyway, it was that day, where everything that could go wrong did. My boss was angry with me for not turning the editorials correctly or on time. From there, the day just went to shit. My skirt ripped, my heel broke, a car passed too close to the damn curb and through a puddle, and drenched me from head to toe.
By the time I got home I was already, at my limit. I didn't want to deal with anything else. So, imagine my surprise when I get home, and hear the cacophony of groans, moans, and creaking springs.
I lost it. I ran up the stairs and through the door opened.
I didn't really give a fuck about him going at it with Jessica, and Lorenzo, aka Laurie Madison.
He quickly kicked their asses out of the apartment, and pulled his pants over his saggy ass.
The next part gets a bit blurry. I'm not entirely sure what happened. All I remember is him coming at me angrily. Then the next thing I knew, he had run into my knife ten times.
After that the cops showed up, then everything was set in motion. Though I don't have remorse, I do feel bad that Mrs. Newton never got to see what kind of slimeball for a son.
Once the trail and all started, I lost track of time. it meant nothing to me anymore. My father also disappeared for my life. I haven't heard from him since that morning, it was as if he disappeared into thin air.
It's been two years already, and it feels like it'll never end.
Just this past year alone I've lived through hell and back.
Why? Well, imagine being in total confinement, yet you feel free. Nothing matters anymore, not time, not life. Everything just feels like a tick down.
Now, I know everyone begins to feel remorse at one point in their lives, but I just can't bring myself to feel remorse. I cry, but no remorse is felt. I cry for the lost, and what would have been but I've never been happier than I am now, and that my friends makes it all worth the while." I say, shrugging, indifferently.
"Don't you feel even a little bit of remorse, Bellsy Babe?" Charlotte asks, smirking at me.
"No, the bastard deserved what he got. He asked for it when he charged at me. He managed to get one hit in, it was purely self defense." I said, smiling back.
Charlotte laughs at me, nonchalant smile. "We're all hopeless." She mutters, shaking her head.
"Hopeless? No. Vindictive? Maybe a little." I pipe back.
Just as I finish speaking Alice squeals in her normal peppy way. What she is excited about I have no idea. What could be more exciting than doing time for decapitating her ex-husband while her lover held him down.
"What's got you all hopped up, pixie?" I ask, raising a brow at her in question.
She giggles, and juts out her jaw in the direction of a group of guards heading our way. To our small little group.
Oh.
We've been doing this whole group thing for nine months now, and I gotta say, Mama likes what she's seeing, but Daddy didn't raise no bitch so I act like I don't and ignore them.
Now, I don't know why we are having this specific discussion, on this specific day, but I ignore the anger that is already bubbling in my stomach and look at Charlotte, and pretend I don't feel a particular stare on the back of my head.
"So, what are you in for Lotty, dearest?" I ask, spinning a piece of my hair in my pointer finger.
"Oh, you know, a little of this, a little of that…" She says, suddenly finding her cuticles interesting.
"Bitch, please, compared to all of us, you're the tame one." Rosalie says, cackling.
"Not entirely sure that's true. Right, Lottie?" Alice chriped, swinging her legs in the air, in a child-like manner.
"Sissy, can you shut your pie hole? Please?" Charlotte asked, sweetly.
"Why would I ever do that? Scared the man-candies over there will get us in trouble? What's the worst that could happen? Get more time? Solitary confinement? Get dubbed as a crazy ass bitch?" Pixie asks.
"No, bitch. If I get solitary confinement, the next time I see you, I'll kick your ass." She growls at Alice.
Charlotte May Wilkinson and Mary Alison Brandon, twin sisters, unbeknownst to them. See, their mother passed away just after she had given birth to them. When that happened, their father, Lou Brandon, decided to separate them.
Nobody knew about them being twins, not even their own family. Charlotte was given to Jordan and Cara Wilkinson, while Mary Alice was kept and raised by the Brandon family. Everything was fine until they both ended up in the same jail.
At first, they couldn't believe it, neither of them would, that is until Alice got attacked by some broad, who was envious of all the attention she was getting. Someone found the bitch dead a week later in Solitary Confinement, hanging from the fucking sheet wrapped around her neck.
I don't know if it was ruled as a suicide or homicide since there were scratches all over her arms and neck but when Esme said 'good riddance', let's just say I have my suspicions, but won't be verbalizing them.
"Is there a problem here ladies?" A deep voice asked us.
I knew that voice anywhere. Peter 'Yogi' Whitlock. Why Yogi you say? Well, for various reasons really. One, he's big as fuck, we're all short as fuck too, and he's one scary looking mutha fucka. Also he's like a big man child-slash- teddy bear. So, we dubbed him Yogi. We, as in our group, are only ones allowed to call him that.
"Not at all, Yogi Bear." We coo at him simultaneously.
"Uh-huh, and I'm the Easter Bunny." He snips, rolling his eyes at us.
"I thought your name was Yogi? Not Bunny." Lottie whispers, confused.
"No, it's Yogi, sweetcheeks, but you can call me whatever you like." He says winking at her, before he heads to his spot back on the wall.
A deep red, blush erupts from Lottie's neck and stops all the way to her ears, causing us all to snicker.
We all watch silently as Yogi goes back to his place on the far wall, then I turn to look at Rose.
Better known as the Ice Queen, Rosalie Lilian Hale, once a part of the most prestigious families here in Chicago, Illinois.
"What?" She asked, rolling her eyes as she ran her fingers through her long gold locks.
To other people she was an ice queen, heartless bitch. Not to me. Or anyone in the group. I mean, why judge someone when we're all in here for a reason.
"Peaches, I think now it's your turn to share why you're here…" I whispered, winking encouragingly at her, while tilting my head to the side.
She sighed, biting her lip before looking up at me one more time.
See, it's difficult to open up to someone. Much more difficult to share with people you hardly know, in my case, I guess you can say I'm one of the few that does know her story, but it's not really my story to tell.
To be honest, she'd been here longer than any of us... Seven years. Kate and Esme have been here the least, a few months.
"It happened a while back. When I was twenty-one." She began in a whisper.