JUSTIFIED

by Danielle James

  “You don’t talk much, do you?” Michelle asked.

  Sarah looked up from her journal, deciding that the effort was lost as long as Miss Nosy still had questions. She regarded the woman through narrow eyes, studying her new cell mate. She was tall, taller than most women. Her frame was that of someone who should have had more flesh on her bones than she did. Where Sarah had initially thought she was bigger, then realized the girl was painfully skinny. Her black hair was cropped at her chin and stringy. Her eyes were light blue, sitting atop of high cheekbones that bore shadows underneath. There was a pink dot over her eyebrow and on her upper lip. Sarah figured it was where she had worn facial piercings at one time. Her eyes were sunken in a bit, surrounded by dark shadows. She looked ill.

  “No, I don’t talk much,” Sarah finally said.

  “Well, that’s ok. I talk enough for two people, or so I have been told,” the woman said. Oh, would the torture never cease? She continued to prattle on about how her mother used to say this or that, but Sarah found it hard to listen. The only thing she could think of was how she could get the woman to shut up.

  “I’m sorry, I wandered off, what did you say?” Sarah asked when she realized that Michelle had asked her a direct question and was waiting for an answer.

  “I said, what are you in for?” Michelle asked again, leaning forward on her bunk. She had dumped her measly bag of belongings on the bed and had been shifting through it while she assaulted Sarah’s ears with her chatter. There wasn’t much to go through, Sarah noticed. There was no more than a few personal hygiene products and a worn book.

  Sarah regarded her silently for a moment before replying. “First degree murder,” she finally answered in her best menacing voice. The woman sucked in her breath and jerked back noticeably. Good, Sarah thought. Maybe if she scared her, the woman would cease her mindless chatter.

  “I see,” Michelle said quietly. “I’m in for possession of controlled substance. Third offense.”

  “Good for you,” Sarah said with a roll of her eyes. “Look, I don’t like company. I don’t like to talk. I like peace and quiet. I just want to spend my time here reading my books or writing in my journal. Ok? If you would like, if it would help you, you can read some of mine if you don’t have your own.”

  “That would be nice,” she said meekly. Her tone made Sarah feel bad. She had never been so mean before, but this woman was as much as an intrusion as any. When had she become so blatantly mean? With a resigned sigh, Sarah reached under her bunk and took out her books. She shoved them to the middle of the floor so that Michelle could peruse through them. “Just put them back under my bunk when you are done.”

  The woman sat on her bunk for a minute before she edged off to look at the books. She looked them over one at a time before selecting one from the pile. Then, she shoved them back under Sarah’s bunk. “Thank you,” she said. Sarah nodded and went back to her journal.

  For the next two hours, Michelle was blessedly quiet. She had curled up on her bunk to read the book borrowed from Sarah. When it came to be supper time, Sarah nudged her roommate. She didn’t move. Sarah nudged her again. Nothing. Suddenly worried, Sarah shook the girl by the shoulders. That was all she needed, for her new roomie to drop dead on her first day.

  Michelle jerked and regarded Sarah with sleepy eyes. No wonder she had gone quiet! She was asleep! Sarah fought back the chuckle rising in her throat. “It’s almost time for supper,” she told Michelle.

  “Oh, I didn’t know, I fell asleep,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

  The guard passed the cell door, banging loudly on it as he passed. He did it every night to every cell on his watch. He thought he was being considerate, but Sarah found it more annoying than anything. At least he made an effort. Most of the guards treated the inmates like they were lower than the dirt on their boots.

  When the cell door opened, Michelle followed Sarah to the cafeteria. She situated herself in line behind her, and sat near Sarah at the table. Sarah ate her meal in silence, as always, while Michelle set out to make some more talkative friends. Sarah could hear everything being said around her. The new girl was asking about Sarah. She wanted to know who she killed, and why. She was given the usual stories, heavy with speculation. Sarah had considered at one point telling all what really happened, but she knew it would be embellished beyond reason. The story would end up even worse, or better depending on the receiving opinion, than it already was.

  Sarah dumped her tray and strode back to her cell. Michelle was hot on her heels. Although she knew that the new girl was lonely and probably afraid, Sarah disliked the idea of being followed around by a sick puppy. A very large, very thin, very noisy puppy. Sarah kept her eyes to the floor as she walked, knowing the way to her cell even with her eyes closed. She knew how many steps in what direction to take her there. She could find it without an upward glance.

  Just as Sarah approached her cell, someone grabbed her by the elbow. “Don’t look now, but there is a whole lot of gorgeous sitting on your bunk,” Michelle hissed in her ear. Sarah looked up and into her cell. Michelle was right. Jon was sitting on her bunk, waiting for her. Sarah smiled. She always enjoyed Jon’s visits. But he had just been there the day before, so why was he back?

  “Hello Jon,” Sarah said as she entered the cell. “What brings you by on this Saturday?”

  Jon returned Sarah’s smile with one of his own. His smile was blindingly beautiful and Sarah caught herself staring. “I came for more journals,” he answered.

  “You’re done with the first one already?” Sarah asked incredulously.

  “As it turns out, I couldn’t put it down,” he said. “It’s really good, Sarah. I don’t know what I thought it would be like when I left here yesterday, but it was nothing like I thought. I figured I would need at least a week to type it all up for you, but when I opened it, I couldn’t stop. I stayed up all night reading and writing. I have to admit, I’m hooked. I want to know what happens next.”

  Sarah didn’t know how to respond to that. She sat on the edge of her bunk pondering just that when her roommate decided to speak up, again. “I’m Michelle,” she said, reaching her hand out to Jon. “I’m Sarah’s new roommate.” Sarah stared at Michelle’s outstretched hand as Jon took it into his own. He gave it a firm shake and released it. Sarah fought the strangest urge to break that hand. She would break the fingers one at a time. She would enjoy the over talkative girl’s cries of pain, knowing it would teach her to touch what was Sarah’s.

  Whoa, what was she thinking? He wasn’t Sarah’s anything. It was odd how she spontaneously formed a possessive streak for Jon. She had never felt like that in her entire life. She shook the odd feelings aside and tried to focus. Maybe she wouldn’t break her fingers, just crush them a little bit…

  Jon cleared his throat and broke Sarah’s morbid daydream. “Um, I’m sorry, Jon, this is Michelle and Michelle, this is my Jon. I mean, my attorney, Jon.” Sarah chastised herself for her mistake. Of course he wasn’t her Jon. He was only there as her attorney. Just her attorney.

  “It is nice to meet you,” Jon said amicably.

  “How is it that you can just walk in here and sit with us?” Michelle asked.

  “This is a minimum security prison,” he answered. “I know several of the guards personally, and the warden. There are many things I can get away with.”

  “Well, you can come by to see,” Michelle started, but Sarah interrupted.

  “Jon and I have things to discuss,” she said. “Can we walk and talk?” she asked, turning to Jon. The look on his face was worth a million dollars. He was shocked. Sarah never wanted to walk. They had always met in her cell. He looked at Sarah, then at Michelle, then back to Sarah before he answered.

  “Of course,” he said, standing and offering Sarah his hand. For reasons Sarah did not understand, she took it. When they were out of the cell and into the hall, Jon offered her his arm like men used to do in medieval times. Sarah smiled and laid her hand on his for
earm. She suddenly felt like a princess, being escorted by a true gentleman to the ball. Not like the prisoner she was wearing a puke green jumpsuit, horrid black sandals, and walking through a dank and dimly lit prison.

  When they were sufficiently out of earshot, Jon finally asked, “So, why did you all of the sudden decide to walk?”

  “I don’t like other people in my business,” Sarah replied honestly.

  “You don’t like your new roommate?”

  “No,” Sarah said. “She talks way too much. She asks too many questions, and she’s rude. What’s not to like?” she said sarcastically.

  Jon laughed. “I guess I can understand. Not to change the subject, but I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Have you considered submitting your story when it’s done?” he asked, getting right to the point.

  “I hadn’t thought about it,” Sarah said.

  “Well, I know this woman; she’s a good friend of mine. She’s a literary agent in New York. She would very much like to read a sample of your work, if it’s ok with you.”

  Sarah wondered how this ‘woman’ would even know about her work when Jon wasn’t supposed to share it with anyone. He had promised. Anger rose up sharp in Sarah’s chest. “What. Did. You. Do?” she demanded through clenched teeth. She had trusted Jon and he went and shared who knew how much of her personal life and feelings with a total stranger! He would be lucky to get another one of her journals! He would be if Sarah even spoke to him again.

  “Whoa,” Jon said, raising both hands out in front of him. His eyes went wide in mock horror. Even though Sarah was pissed, the look was comical. She fought the twitching at the corners of her mouth as her irritation died down a little. “I didn’t tell her anything, not really. I didn’t tell her who you are or anything personal like that. All I said was I had gotten my hands on a true story that I thought had real potential. She said to get the author’s permission and send her a couple of sample chapters. That’s all, I swear,” he said.

  “I don’t know, Jon,” Sarah sighed. “I have sent my novels off to agents before, and I have never been accepted. I don’t want or need another rejection letter for my collection.”

  “I understand, but Sarah, you can’t give up on your dream. You have to take chances. I would not have acted without your permission if I didn’t feel so strongly about it. I’m not a leisure reader. But seriously, I couldn’t put it down!”

  The pair continued to debate the issue as they walked to the front of the building. The guards regarded them with curious but unconcerned expressions. They walked around the perimeter and out the front doors into the yard.

  “When did we go outside?” Sarah asked as she took in her surroundings. She had been so consumed by their conversation that she gave no notice as to where they were going.

  “We went out the front doors,” Jon replied with a laugh. “It’s a nice evening.”

  “It is,” Sarah agreed. She hadn’t been outside at night in two years. She looked up at the sky, admiring the stars. The sky was clear and the night was warm. The stars looked like God had tossed a handful of tiny diamonds across a black velvet blanket. She walked with Jon a few more minutes in silence before he finally spoke again.

  “Sarah,” he said in just barely more than a whisper. “I have an idea.”

  “Ok.”

  “Why don’t you come stay with me next weekend?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ll just pack my overnight bag,” she said, rolling her eyes. The night air must had some invisible pollution in it because Jon was clearly high and losing his mind.

  “I mean it, Sarah. I have already filled out a weekend pass form for you. It’s in my briefcase. All you have to do is sign it. I know the warden will approve it. You have it coming after two years of good behavior. They would release you for forty eight hours into my custody. We could work on your book.”

  Sarah regarded her attorney with suspicion. Why on Earth would he want to be responsible for a murderer? She had committed a serious crime, and she had to pay for it. She would do her penance locked behind bars. She had killed a man in cold blood. Had he forgotten that? She had done the worst possible thing anyone could do to another human being. She had taken his life without remorse. In Sarah’s opinion, that made her the worst kind of monster. When she expressed as much to Jon, his answer was the same as it was two years earlier.

  “You are no monster, Sarah. Everyone knows that except you,” he told her in a stern voice. He grasped her upper arms in his hands and held her still, forcing her to face him. “You acted out of despair and rage. No one blames you. In fact, I tend to think he deserved it.”

  “No one has the right to take the life of another,” she whispered. “No matter if he deserved it or not. I am Not God. I have no right to judge who deserves what and I certainly don’t have the right to execute a man.”

  “No, but you admitted your crime,” Jon pointed out. “You have accepted your punishment. But please, don’t forget that there are people outside of this prison who care about you.”

  “They all say they do, my sisters and friends, but inside, they are afraid of me. I’m afraid of me. Don’t you understand? What is stopping me from doing it again to someone else? What if I hurt someone I care about because they make me angry?” Sarah’s voice was rising with each sentence, “I can’t take that chance, Jon. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” Jon said.

  “You should be,” she snapped, remembering how much she wanted to hurt her roommate just for looking at Jon. She wasn’t even going to get into the feelings she had when Michelle shook his hand.

  “Sarah, please. Just promise me that if it’s approved, you’ll come with me. You need to get out of here for just a little while.”

  “How much are my sisters paying you to do this?” Sarah asked.

  “They are not paying me. I’m doing this because I care. Because I want to. I know you’re not the monster you think you are, and I would very much like to prove it to you. I have put up with your self-destructive behavior for two years now and I have never asked you to do anything for me. Please Sarah, do this for me? Besides, by the weekend you might just need a break from your new roommate.”

  He just had to throw the roommate card out there didn’t he. “I don’t deserve you,” Sarah said.

  “Yes you do. Will you do it?”

  “If it’s approved, I will. But don’t get your hopes up.” Sarah couldn’t imagine that the warden would let her out. But if it meant so much to Jon, it was a small thing Sarah could do. He really hadn’t asked anything of her and this might be a start on trying to repay him for all his kindness.

  Jon walked Sarah back to her cell. He gave her the forms for her weekend pass to sign, which Sarah did, albeit reluctantly. She gave him three more journals to type up in the mean time. Michelle sat on her own bunk, blessedly quiet, during the entire exchange. When Jon finally left, Sarah dropped to her bed, exhausted.

  “Wish my attorney looked like that,” Michelle said to no one in particular. Her hands were folded in her lap and her expression was green with envy.

  “He is nice to look at,” Sarah agreed while staring up at the ceiling.

  “How did you get him?”

  “My sisters hired him when I was first arrested two years ago.” Sarah did not know what possessed her to talk to the new woman at that moment, but she did. “I know the things they say about me in the commons,” Sarah offered.

  “Is it true?”

  “Some of it.” Sarah admitted. “I have never told anyone here the real story. I just let them speculate and make up their own stories. They leave me alone.”

  “What is the real story?” Michelle asked.

  “You are very annoying,” Sarah said without any enthusiasm.

  Michelle laughed, “I know. My own mother will attest to that. Will you tell me anyway?”

  Sarah sighed. “I killed my husband,” she finally said.

  “Why?�
�� Michelle sat forward, not wanting to miss the story that every woman in the prison had speculated about.

  “Because he was an ass,” Sarah retorted. “That’s all I want to say right now, ok?”

  Michelle was disappointed but seemed to accept that. For once, she didn’t have anything else to say. Sarah flopped onto her side and pulled her thin blanket up over herself. She was unsure what made her tell her cellmate the few things that she had, but it felt good to get it out. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe she needed to open up a little.

  Sarah lay there, wondering what would happen if she did get a pass. Would she stay at Jon’s house? Or would he put her in a hotel room? Was he serious about giving her work to an agent? These things were swimming around in her head when sleep finally came to Sarah. And for once, she didn’t have bad dreams.

  FIVE

  Jon sat at his computer, typing and reading, reading and typing. He was working on the third journal when he came to a section in the story that he hadn’t been told by Sarah’s family or her. His eyes absorbed the page, completely engrossed in the story, but his fingers went still over the keypad as if they had a life of their own.