“Luck or not, she managed it.” He laughed a bit manically. “But you’re right. She’s done now.”
Two
Chin up. Tits out. You got this.
—Ramsey’s personal pep talk.
Ramsey
A solid punch to the right solar plexus was enough to knock the wind right out of my lungs.
But I’d been fighting for my life for seven years now.
I wouldn’t let some sneak attack kill me.
With a solid twist, my elbow connected with the man’s jaw.
I heard the solid crack and knew that I’d just broken his jaw.
Blood poured down my eyebrow.
I’d need more stitches.
Great.
“Break it up!”
I backed away, blood now pouring down the length of my face, down my neck and across my chest.
“You, solitary.”
I rolled my eyes.
A guard roughly caught my arm and yanked me to the side.
I went, because I’d found that fighting the guards was pointless.
They were all fucking crooked, but they controlled my life in here.
Fighting them only made it worse.
Speaking of worse, I’d only thought that things couldn’t get any worse in this hellish place.
Yet, after refusing to sign the divorce papers, I’d experienced just that.
Soon, I’d be dead.
And I thought that might be okay.
I still had eight years to go on this sentence and probably wouldn’t make it that long.
I wasn’t getting any younger.
And it wasn’t like I had any friends in this god-forsaken place that would help protect me.
I…
“Kelly.”
