Page 2 of On Your Life

***

The edges of my vision blur more with every step and I can’t find my friend anywhere. Some DD he is. I throw a tip onto the bartop, even though the guy was an asshole, and push through the dwindling crowd to walk home.

My house is only a few blocks away but I don’t particularly enjoy walking in the freezing rain.

The hood to my rain jacket does little to stave off the cold as I step through puddles on the cracked sidewalk. Cars fly past and I’m just waiting for one to send a tsunami right over my head. The incessant raindrops are already sobering me up and I decide that I can continue my party at home, fucking alone, since my friend decided to bail on me for some overused pussy. Anger flickers to life in my chest.

I’m going to kick his ass when I see him tomorrow, making me walk around in this shit for some whore is a new low.

The porch light is in view and I pick up the pace. A hot shower and a cold beer should fix my night. Before I can even get a few more feet I hear a car slow behind me. The water on the road sloshes as the brakes screech to a halt.

When I turn I can’t see anything past the bright lights. I offer a smile and wave them off. People in this town are always trying to help someone out. I’m not fucking asking or accepting. I don’t feel like dealing with anyone at this hour.

I spin on my heel and keep walking toward the beacon of light calling me home but before I even make it a few feet the engine behind me revs up—louder and louder. The sound turns my blood ice cold. What was once lit up by headlights turns dark and for the first time in a long time, I’m afraid.

Chapter 1

Kira

The gavel bangs on the podium and slices through the thick silence in the courtroom. The large wooden fortress is more imposing than ever. Weeks upon weeks of fighting for my fucking life all boiled down to this moment. My heart shatters the moment the verdict comes out of his tight lipped sneer.

“The defendant is found guilty on all counts,” the judge says. He gazes down at me from his cushioned leather seat with disgust. A pit viper would get more sympathy in this courtroom right now. “For the crimes committed you are hereby sentenced to life without the possibility of parole.”

Murmurs travel through the crowd and the gavel hits the podium again as the judge says something that I don’t hear.

The ringing in my ears muffles the harsh whispers traveling throughout the room. Someone shuffles behind me and I feel my body move but my mind is elsewhere.

Guilty.

Chains weigh down my wrists, my legs feel like they can hardly move. Every step is harder to make than the last as if I’m trudging through quicksand, sinking deeper and deeper. If only it would swallow me whole.

Guilty.

The second the doors open I’m hit with the fresh smell of fall air, something that I have never taken the time to appreciate. A breeze floats past and takes my hair with it, begging me to run, to get out of here as fast as I can. It almost calms my racing heart until the ear piercing ringing stops and the sounds of the street penetrate my fleeting thoughts.

Hundreds of people crowd the sidewalk and the adjacent lawns. Cameras and microphones are shoved in my face while I’m being dragged through the sea of bodies. I keep my head down trying not to listen to the insults and jeers thrown my way.

“Murderer!”

“Killer!”

“Give the bitch the electric chair!”

They’re creative. I’ll give them that. The twenty-foot walk feels like twenty miles. People are pushing and shoving while reporters are yelling. Officers keep strong arms out to keep the citizens at bay.

This is the only time I have ever been happy to be thrown in the back of a cop car. My head hurts from it being shoved down so hard to get me into the backseat.

I guess that’s how it goes when you’re a convicted murderer. My life is ruined.

Over a crime that I didn’t commit.

***

After my arm is damn near ripped out of its socket, the bright lights of the booking office swallow me whole. It’s a harsh contrast from the welcoming sun.

I’ve spent weeks in the county jail expecting someone to finally realize this was all just a big misunderstanding, that any minute a guard would unlock my cell and tell me that I was going home.

I used to believe in the justice system. Evidence was supposed to point straight to the person responsible, not someone who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Funny how quickly a lifetime of trust can disappear in the blink of an eye.