Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Shaking, I quickly move back to the corner of the cell, where I slide down to the floor and huddle up in a ball. All I can do now is hope no one gives me any trouble. I know enough to ask for a lawyer – I’ve watched enough Law & Order to be aware of that - but I don’t know when I’ll have the opportunity. Hell, I could be stuck here for the next three days, waiting for someone to hit me with some bullshit revenge porn charge.
I’m not sure how much time passes as I listen to the moans and groans of the other prisoners. My stomach is in knots and my mind reels. What the hell? How can this be happening? Even worse, as the minutes tick by, my sense of anger and injustice only grows stronger.
This is all Patrick’s fault, I rage, my face twisting in scorn. The bastard actually had me thrown in jail, after everything we’ve been through. Unbelievable. This is so unfair, and for what? For hitting send? What’s the big deal? How could any other girl look me in the eye and tell me she wouldn’t have done the same thing?
I slowly start to relax, but the scowl on my face remains. Patrick is so immature. How did I not see it before? More importantly, what the hell did I see in him in the first place? Any guy who would have his own girlfriend arrested deserves whatever’s coming to him.
Now, leaking his pictures seems mild by comparison. I shouldn’t have stopped with the Bible study group. I should have posted them all over the internet, so the while world can see what kind of a sicko he is. He’s getting off easy, and meanwhile, I’m rotting in a jail cell.
I close my eyes, but remain wide awake because I’m too agitated to sleep.
An indeterminate amount of time later, there’s a rough nudge against my thighs. For a moment I don’t know where I am, but then it all comes flooding back to me. My eyes flutter open, and the sunlight coming through the tiny window tells me I must have been here all night.
The foot nudges my ribs roughly again. Craning my neck, I look up to see one of the other women glaring down at me. “They’re here for you, princess,” she spits.
I struggle to my feet, my muscles aching from the concrete floor, and turn to see one of the other prison guards staring at me by the cell door. “Libby Rain,” she says in a monotone. “Come on. You’re out of here.”
For a minute I’m sure I’m hallucinating, but I shuffle over to where she’s holding the door open. “What’s going on?” I ask, still a little disoriented.
“You’re being released,” the guard grunts.
“Why?”
She rolls her eyes. “Your boyfriend’s decided not to press charges.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” I snap.
“Whatever,” the guard says, grabbing me by the elbow and shoving me roughly in the direction of the front room. “You got off lucky.”
I turn to her to give a sassy retort, but then think better of it. Instead, I hold my head high as I stalk back to the processing area, still seething harder than I’ve ever seethed before.
You got off lucky. Right.
Patrick Arrington hasn’t seen anything yet.
The police don’t even give me a ride back to my place, and I’m stuck waiting for one of the cross-town buses for what feels like ages. Portland is cold and humid this time of year, and I didn’t exactly have time to dress for the weather before I was dragged off to the precinct. I stand at the bus stop shivering, utterly miserable in the misty morning, but my rage is enough to warm me up until I get on the bus. Once aboard, I rest my head against the window, all kinds of horrible fantasies running through my mind. Maybe Patrick will get struck by lightning on the way to his sex club. Or maybe Raina’s cunt will grow teeth, and they’ll bite off his dick altogether. You never know.
The thought makes me smirk all the way home. Part of me hopes that Patrick will be waiting on my front doorstep, ready to beg for forgiveness and tell me what a mistake he’s made. He didn’t press charges, after all, so that has to count for something. But he’s nowhere to be seen, and when I let myself in, my apartment is completely empty and still. The groceries he picked up are still sitting where he left them - he didn’t even bother to put them away - and by now, most of them have spoiled. Great. Another waste, just like our relationship.
Patrick doesn’t deserve to get away with this. He can’t just break up with me, have me arrested, and then expect me to let it go. I know that forgiveness is what the Bible preaches, but I don’t care. Who knows? He’s probably off with Raina right now, doing god knows what.