Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
“I just… walked over to them. I had the gun behind my back, already cocked and ready because I knew there was no way I’d have time to pull the hammer back once I raised it to aim. I deliberately got everything ready to kill Brandon. I used a powerful handgun with bullets that would explode as they entered his body. I made sure it was ready to fire the second I took aim. And I waited until there was no chance of true collateral damage. The mere fact that his buddies stood there and listened to him, laughing as he mimicked how my sister had begged him for her life told me it didn’t matter if they got hit because I was a lousy shot or because someone knocked my aim off target.
“So I approached them. At first they ignored me. But when I was just close enough I knew there was no way I could miss him entirely, they turned to me. Just as I raised my arm and aimed at Brandon.”
Cotton jerked as if remembering the report of the gun as she fired. “The first round went into his chest. The gun was positively deafening as it went off but had surprisingly little kick. It just bounced in my hand. His buddies jumped back, I’m sure in reflex while Brandon jerked when the bullet hit him. A spray of blood came out his back. I remember there was a strong wind blowing in my face. I was close enough it carried his blood back to me in a fine mist. I had it on my arms and in my face, though it wasn’t in large streaks. Just a fine, bright red spray. Little micro drops. I had on a white shirt, and it turned pink in places.
“Brandon was still standing, so I shot him again. This time in the head. I remember thinking the gun wasn’t as deafening the second time as it was the first, but my ears were still ringing so I’m guessing my hearing was just stunned. This time, Brandon dropped like a stone. I’m short and he was tall, so the back and top of his head was just gone. Blood was everywhere.
“His friends scattered. No one tried to disarm me or talk to me. One of them had a cell phone and managed to call the cops. I just stood there. I had no intention of leaving. At that point, I honestly thought about taking my own life. I’m not sure why I didn’t.” She looked down at her hands then and shrugged. “I guess I just wasn’t ready to die. At least, I didn’t want my death to be linked with Brandon’s.”
“So you were fifteen when you killed him and went to trial. I take it they didn’t even entertain the thought of trying you as a juvenile.”
“No. And I didn’t really care. I’d brought justice to that bastard, and I owned that shit. I confessed immediately. The prosecutor in the case didn’t want there to be any reason to overturn my confession so he made the judge assign me an attorney immediately. The guy did just enough to make it look like I had an adequate defense. He got the DA to agree to a plea of manslaughter. I got fifteen years. Would have been eligible for parole in four years.”
“What happened?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear any more, but if she could tell it, I could listen to it. Afterall, I’d asked her for this. In my mind, I was already plotting revenge on anyone who’d fucked her over, starting with her father and the judge who’d obviously pulled strings everywhere to save his son.
“The second I went to prison, I got hit hard by the gangs. Pressuring me to work for them. The guards, too. They wanted me to help them get drugs to the prisoners and to… service them. I couldn’t do much about the latter, but I never participated. In anything. When the gangs tried to beat me into submission, I took it. When the guards took what they wanted, I didn’t fight them either. I did my best to make it not worth anyone’s time to come at me. I wasn’t fun to rape. I couldn’t be relied on to deliver any product the gangs wanted to move. No matter what happened, I didn’t fight back. In any way. I think, subconsciously, I was punishing myself by taking the beatings. It was horrible and I won’t lie. I considered taking my own life again. I just didn’t feel like I’d paid enough penance, so I continued on. Just… taking whatever they dished out.
“It took about a year, but they all finally left me alone. Looking back, I think some of the guards were trying to get something on me to tack on to my sentence. That was probably the plan all along. I took a plea with the possibility I could get out in four years, but if I messed up and got extra time added on to my sentence, it pushed back my parole date.”