I consider it. Like, really consider it. If I go to trial, there’s a chance Austin might serve a longer sentence, but then Gregory and Parker walk. If I take this deal, all of them have to pay for what they did to me. It’s not enough, but if I’m honest with myself, I don’t know that anything ever would be. They took something from me. No punishment can ever give it back. At least this way?—
“I need an answer.”
“Whatever I agree to now won’t hold up in court,” I tell her. “I can still change my mind.”
“I’m aware. But I’ll take a verbal confirmation now, regardless.”
I chew on my bottom lip. “All three serve time behind bars,” I echo her earlier statement. “Five years for Austin and I want three years for Gregory and Parker.”
“I can make that happen.”
We’ll see.
“And I want all three going through court-ordered therapy upon release.” They’re already menaces to society. This way … I don’t know. Maybe other women like me will stand a chance.
Jaymin nods, her movements slow and deliberate. “I’ll ensure the necessary arrangements are made.”
Then … silence as Jaymin rises from her seat without a word and slips out of the room, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor. The sound fades, and I’m left standing in the middle of the room, frozen, unsure of what comes next.
I turn toward the window, the heavy fabric of the curtains brushing my fingertips as I pull them further back to peer out. The alley is empty, devoid of life. No cars, no people. Just the quiet hum of a distant streetlight and the shadowy outline of buildings looming in the dusk.
The seconds tick by, painfully slow. My eyes track the flickering light at the end of the street, watching it go in and out, like my breathing. Steady, but not enough to chase away the anxiety gnawing at my insides.
I press my palm flat against the cool glass, my thoughts slipping into a dull buzz. My fingers curl into a fist, pressing harder, trying to ground myself against the growing unease.How long are they going to keep me here?
The room feels empty without her, but not in a comforting way. It’s the kind of emptiness that’s full of tension, wrapping around me like a cold hand on my throat. I clench and unclench my fists, feeling the soft satin of my dress between my fingers. I try to remember my therapist's grounding exercises.
I’ve got this.
Finally, the sound of a phone ringing cuts through the heavy silence like a sharp blade. My body jerks at the sudden noise, adrenaline flooding my veins. I whirl around as Jaymin steps back into the room, calm and collected as always.
Her driver comes in from the opposite end of the house. His phone is pressed to his ear. He doesn’t speak at first, just nods, his face unreadable.
After a pause, he lowers the phone and turns to Jaymin who stares at him with an expectant look.
“Your son is home,” he tells her.
She exhales, a slow release of tension I didn’t even realize she was holding. Her shoulders drop, her mask of cold indifference faltering just enough to reveal the relief beneath. “Well then,” she says, her voice softer than before. “It looks like we’re finished here.”
Relief washes over me, mingling with exhaustion, but I can’t bring myself to feel the same level of calm that she does. “Great. Can I go now?”
Jaymin retrieves my phone from her purse, holding it out to me with a small, polite smile that makes my skin crawl. “I’ll have my driver drop you off.”
I nod, clutching my phone tightly in my hand, the familiar weight of it somehow comforting now. “Fine.”
cecilia
. . .
I followJaymin’s driver to the car, my legs shaky but determined. The night air is cold against my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the icy dread that’s coiled in my stomach. The SUV looms ahead, dark and intimidating, and I swallow hard as the driver pulls the door open for me.
The ride is silent, the air inside thick with unspoken tension, so heavy it feels like I’m choking on it. My thoughts spin, tangled and knotted in the aftermath of everything.
Five years.
I can’t believe I agreed to five years.
I stare out the window, watching the dark streets blur by, but I don’t really see anything. The idea of him walking around, free, is almost too much to process. My fingers curl into the fabric of my dress, twisting until my knuckles turn white. Every time I think I’m safe, it’s like the rug gets ripped out from under me again.
