High-pitched. Hysterical. Coming from down the row.
I stopped. So did everyone else.
More screaming. Then: “OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. SOMEBODY HELP.”
Women started moving toward the noise. I followed. Adrienne fell in step beside me, her face tight.
“The fuck is going on?” she muttered.
We rounded the corner and stopped at Mona’s cell.
The crowd was already forming. Women pushing to see, then stumbling back with their hands over their mouths. One girl was crying. Another one was throwing up against the wall.
I pushed through until I could see.
And there she was.
Big Mona. Laid out on her bunk. Eyes open. Mouth frozen in something between shock and a scream. Blood everywhere—soaking the mattress, pooling on the floor, splattered on the wall behind her.
Someone had carved her up good. Multiple stab wounds to the chest and stomach. Deep ones that said this was personal. But that wasn’t even the best part.
Next to her body, fanned out like somebody took their time arranging it, was a stack of Monopoly money. Colorful. Fake. Ten thousand dollars worth, if I had to guess.
I almost laughed.
Prime.
My man really sent a message. You wanted ten thousand? Here’s ten thousand, bitch.
Adrienne grabbed my arm. “Zainab. We need to go. Right now. Before the COs lock everything down.”
She was right. But I couldn’t move yet. Couldn’t stop staring at the body of the woman who threatened my baby less than twenty-four hours ago.
Funny how fast things change.
I cradled my belly with both hands. Seven months deep. Big as a house. And my baby was safe, for now.
I turned away from Mona’s cell and walked back toward mine. Behind me, the chaos was building—COs shouting, alarms starting to blare, the whole block about to go on lockdown.
But I was calm.
My man handled it.
And I loved him even more for it.
They locked us down for six hours while they investigated.
I spent most of it sitting on my bunk against the wall, staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything and nothing. The block was quiet for once. No yelling. No drama. Just the occasional announcement over the intercom and the sound of investigators moving through the hallway.
Nobody knew who did it. Or if they did, they weren’t talking. That was the thing about jail—snitches didn’t last long. And whoever took out Mona had done everyone a favor. She’d been running this block like her own little kingdom for years. Terrorizing women. Extorting the weak. Making life hell for anyone who didn’t fall in line.
Now she was gone. And nobody was crying about it.
Around noon, a CO came to my cell.
“Ali. You got a medical appointment.”
I sat up. Right. The prenatal check. I’d almost forgotten.
