Edge Of Retaliation : Books 1-3

by Bella Jewel

  I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised that Tanner and his group have had a few encounters with the law. They’re bad boys with a capital B. But I wouldn’t say they’re bad people. Not even close. They’re good in every way it counts. They may be trouble, but they’re not horrible—there is a big difference. I’m not a good person. I’ve done bad things, but does that mean I’d deliberately hurt anyone or do something horrible? Absolutely not.

  At the very least, everyone deserves a chance. “Maybe that’s true, but they’ve been good to me. I’m not in the business of judging people without first knowing them.”

  Ethan’s jaw gets tight, and he mutters, “That doesn’t mean you need to be stupid with your choices. Getting involved with a bad crowd could end you straight back up in that place. Is that what you want?”

  He’s frustrating me now. I know he’s looking out for me, and I respect that, but sometimes I think Ethan thinks he has control over the things I do. He’s protective, which I adore about him, but he needs to understand that I’m not stupid, and I can take care of myself.

  “I have learned a lot, and I use my brain. I’m not going to do or get involved in anything bad. If I see he’s doing something bad, I’ll remove myself from the situation. But I like Tanner, and I’m going to see where that goes.”

  Ethan looks pissed, but he doesn’t say anything more. “I’ve got to get to work.”

  He turns and walks out, slamming the door behind him. I exhale and my shoulders slump. I wish he could understand that I’m not trying to hurt or upset him. I just need to figure my own life out.

  Starting with right now—going to my father’s house for the first time in over six years.

  This could go well.

  Or it could be very, very bad.

  “IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU, Callie.”

  I stare at my father. The years have been kind to him. Of course, I knew they would. He looks just the same as he did the last time I saw him.

  He told me he was moving away. Max said for a while he did, but he got a job and came back. Of course he didn’t tell me that, and he never came to see me. That hurt more than he’ll ever know. Because he owed it to me to be a supportive father. I never thought he’d let me down. When I was little, he was my everything.

  Even the people you love the most can let you down when you least expect it.

  So the best thing to do is not expect it.

  “Dad,” I say, my voice low and hesitant.

  “Come here. Let me look at you.” He steps out into the light of his front porch and takes my shoulders in his hands. I flinch. His eyes meet mine, and he knows that I don’t want him touching me. He knows, deep down, that I hate him so much I want to scream and tear his eyes out. Yet I love him so much that his betrayal kills me. It’s a horrible feeling to have. To love and hate someone so incredibly much.

  Which side do you choose?

  How do you even make a choice like that?

  He takes me in, and in a low voice, he says, “You’ve grown up so much.”

  Of course I have. When you go away for six years, you’re bound to change. I’m not a young girl anymore; I’m a young woman. A hardened young woman who has seen far too much.

  “Yeah, that happens,” I mutter.

  He lets me go and says, “How rude of me. Come inside. Deanne is dying to meet you.”

  Deanne, the woman he left us for. Then he basically adopted her two daughters, Crystal and Shirley. The perfect daughters. Both of them left school with perfect grades and went to college. Both of them have incredible partners and are making their parents proud with every breath they take.

  Then there’s me.

  The daughter who killed someone.

  The daughter who went to prison.

  Yeah, that’s me. The sunshine of people’s lives.

  As I walk into my father’s huge house, I look around, and the urge to shake my head is massive. He provided my mother with things too, of course. We had the best of everything. This, though? This goes above and beyond what we got. There are chandeliers hanging from the damned rooftops, for crying out loud. Who actually needs that crap?

  The house is twice the size of the one I grew up in. Hell, those girls probably have bedrooms bigger than my house.

  It’s insane.

  “Deanne?” my father calls as we round a corner into the biggest country kitchen I’ve ever seen. There’s white wood, cupboards for miles, and bench space big enough you could dance on it and not knock anything off.

  “In here!” Out comes the lady herself. Deanne.

  I’ve seen pictures, of course. My father used to try and get me to meet her, but I wasn’t interested. Why the hell would I be? She’s a damned queen, and she took everything I had left.

  Okay, slightly unfair, because he did it too, but still.

  Long blond hair falls upon Deanne’s dainty shoulders. Her eyes are big, and round, and perfectly blue. She looks like a china doll. Her skin is so perfect and so wrinkle free it makes me wonder what kind of injections she’s into. Either that, or the woman has some pretty incredible genes. She’s wearing a sunflower-colored dress, with a blue checked apron wrapped around her tiny little waist. Can anyone say perfect house wife?

  I can.

  Perfect housewife.

  “Oh, hello! Welcome! I’m Deanne!” she says, rushing over and extending her perfectly manicured hand. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

  No, it’s not. We both know it’s not.

  She doesn’t want me in her house. She’s putting on a show for my father, but I can see the way she’s studying me, taking me in, scrutinizing me. She’s not impressed with me. Oh, no. Not at all. In fact, I’m sure if she had her way, she wouldn’t have me in this house at all.

  “You, too,” I say to her, taking her hand. I can see the way her eyes twitch just a little when my hand curls around hers.

  “The girls will be here momentarily. I’m going to go and get freshened up. You can catch up with your father.”

  I watch her go, and then turn to Dad. “Nice place.”

  He looks around. “Yeah, it is. Sit down. Can I get you a drink?”

  I nod, and he brings me back a soda. God forbid I should drink alcohol; maybe I’d do something stupid like steal a car and kill someone.

  It’s safe to say my parents were shocked when they found out I was completely sober that night; they even asked if I had drugs in my system. They couldn’t process how or why I’d steal their car and go for a joy ride if I was completely sober.

  “How have things been? Have you caught up with Max?”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen him once. I’m not in a rush to see him again.”

  My dad frowns. “Your brother was worried about you. I’m sure he’d love to see you again.”

  “My brother abandoned me, just like everyone else in my family. I owe nobody a single thing.”

  He exhales. “Look, I know I didn’t come and visit you like I should have, Callie. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean it to hurt you. Things out here, they were crazy, and I moved away. It wasn’t intentional.”

  “I don’t want to hear your excuses, to be honest. You could have picked up a phone. Written a letter. There are a million things you could have done. You chose not to. Instead of blaming everything on how crazy things were out here, maybe try owning that.”

  He goes to open his mouth, but the front door opens, and two incredibly beautiful women walk in. Ah, they’re here. The perfect children. Their eyes immediately go to me, and Crystal, the youngest of the two, scowls. Oh, she doesn’t like me. Well, the feeling is very mutual. Shirley gives me a small smile, but she still looks like she’d rather I was anywhere but here.

  “Daddy!” Crystal cries, rushing over and hugging my father when he stands.

  Daddy. He’s not her god damned daddy. She probably has a daddy somewhere who couldn’t deal with her stuck-up mother, so he ran off with another woman. Oh wait; that was my father. Ten bucks says their stories are scarily similar. I w
atch as my father hugs the two girls like they’re his own daughters, and when he pulls back, I see the pride in his face.

  It hits me like a punch to the stomach.

  An unfamiliar longing grabs at my heart, and I hate it. I despise it. Because it means it still hurts. It means I still care.

  “Crystal, Shirley, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Callie.”

  I nod at the two girls, who are both studying me. Taking me in as if I’m some sort of street scum. Damn them. Who do they think they are anyway?

  “Is Max coming?” Crystal asks, not even acknowledging me.

  “No, he couldn’t make it. Let’s sit down.”

  We all go and sit at the table, and it’s the most awkward feeling of my life. I want to scream and claw my eyes out just to make a scene because it would probably be more comfortable than the one I’m sitting in right now.

  “So, Callie, have you found a job since being let out of prison?” Crystal asks, her voice snippy.

  Bitch.

  Rude bitch.

  “Yes, actually, I have. People are very forgiving of us criminals.”

  She scowls.

  My father gives her a look, as if to tell her to stop. That’s right, Daddy dearest. Keep your child in check.

  There is that pain in my chest again. That feeling I don’t want to surface.

  “How have you been enjoying living in the city?” Shirley asks. At least her question is kind.

  “I like it. I’ve made a few friends, met a few guys. It has been good.”

  “Have you told those guys you killed someone? I’m sure they wouldn’t want to know they’re putting it in an ex-criminal,” Crystal snaps.

  “Crystal!” My father admonishes. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy, but I don’t like her. She killed someone. You can’t expect me to sit here and be okay with her being in my house.”

  Her house. Jesus.

  “Crystal,” Deanne says, walking out of the kitchen. “That’s enough.”

  “Oh, like you can talk, Mother. I heard you talking earlier, and you don’t want a killer in your house, either. You said so yourself. Then, you proceeded to tell us to put away the valuables because she could be a thief, too. You never know what they’re taught in those prisons.”

  My cheeks burn and shame stabs at my chest. I feel stupid, and hurt, and incredibly embarrassed.

  Of course, that’s exactly what Crystal wanted. I can tell by the triumphant smile on her face. Tears burn the backs of my eyelids, tears I’ve managed to keep hidden for such a long time. But knowing that my father allowed this kind of talk, that he didn’t defend me—that hurts me. It hurts so badly.

  “Crystal!” he growls. “That’s enough.”

  I stand, tossing my napkin down. “You know what?” I say, staring at my father. “I don’t deserve this. I’m not going to defend myself to a bunch of stuck-up assholes who have never experienced anything outside of a hair salon. You want to judge me? Go ahead. I’ve heard far worse, but you, Dad, you can stay out of my life. You proved to me what I meant to you when you abandoned me. I don’t know what I thought I was going to get out of coming here tonight, but it certainly proved to me that I was right about you, about this . . . I deserve better. I deserve family. You’re not that.”

  I pick up my phone and my purse. “I’ll see myself out.”

  I turn, even when he calls my name, and I leave. My chest burns, my throat tightens, my nostrils ache, and tears push at my eyelids, threatening to escape. I walk out of the huge house and down the front path to my car parked on the street. I unlock it and go to get in when I see a piece of paper stuffed in the windshield wipers. I reach over with blurred vision and pick it up, turning it over.

  My heart feels like a knife has been taken to it.

  There’s a picture of Celia on the paper. A beautiful picture of her smiling. Then, scrawled in messy handwriting underneath it, it says, “She had a life. You took that from her. Killer.”

  The tears burst forth and roll down my cheeks.

  17

  THEN – CALLIE

  “What are you going to do about it?” I growl, crossing my arms and staring at the girl in front of me.

  She’s bigger than me.

  She’s scarier than me.

  But I no longer care.

  When you don’t care, you fear nothing, and when you fear nothing, you can’t be hurt. You can’t be hurt because you don’t care what happens to you. I’ve been hit, and abused, and constantly in trouble for the last year, but I’ve survived. I’ve taken on girls bigger than me, smaller than me, and everything in between.

  Trisha is a thing of the past. Long gone.

  These girls, the new girls, they’re far worse.

  “I’m going to cut your damned tongue out and shove it down your throat,” Amie hisses.

  Amie is in here for assault, major assault. She beat her mother close to death, then she assaulted officers when they tried to detain her. She’s not a huge girl, but she’s savage. She came into this place with a chip on her shoulder, and she wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone.

  She was going to make sure we all knew she wouldn’t be messed with.

  Of course, I didn’t heed that warning, and made sure she knew I wouldn’t be messed with either.

  And here we are.

  I snort at her threat, and lean in closer, saying, “I’d like to see you try. In fact, I dare you.”

  Her eyes flash and she steps forward, about to push me, or hit me, or something, when I hear someone bark my name. Amie steps back immediately, and I turn to see Officer Corel walking towards me. He’s angry; of course he is. He’s been trying to help me, but I don’t want his damned help. I don’t want anyone’s help. I just want to keep going on with my life just the way it is right now.

  “You can leave, Amie,” he growls to her, and she gives me a death stare before turning and walking back to her table.

  Officer Corel looks down at me, and snaps, “You’re coming to work with me outside today.”

  “Why?” I mutter.

  “Because I damn well said so. Now move.”

  He grabs my shoulder harder than he ever has before, which kind of tugs at my heartstrings. I like Officer Corel, and even though I drive him crazy, he’s always there to help me. Have I pushed him too far? Probably, and I deserve his wrath, too.

  I follow him outside without complaint. The second we step out, the sun burns down onto us. It’s hot today. The middle of summer isn’t kind to us, and we all try to avoid having to work outside, which is exactly why Officer Corel brought me out here, I’m sure.

  He walks over to the garden shed with me and opens it. “We’re going to plant trees and clean up the gardens. You’re not going to complain.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” I mutter.

  He turns to me, narrowing his eyes. “Why do you insist on doing this to yourself, Callie? I’ve seen thousands of girls come through those doors, none of them as good as you, and yet you’re out to prove that you’re just as bad as the rest of them. You’re forcing yourself to run off the rails. Why?”

  His words stump me.

  I don’t know how to answer them right away.

  “Because nobody cares about me, so why in the hell should I care about myself? I’m simply surviving in here, Officer Corel.”

  My words shock both me and him, because they’re brutal and they’re honest.

  “So your family let you down; that should be all the more reason to prove the world wrong, to have your own back, to get out of here and show all of them you didn’t sink.”

  I look away. “Can we just get to it?”

  “Callie . . .”

  “I don’t want to talk about this. You’re a guard, not a damned counselor.”

  Angrily, he turns and pulls out everything we need. He doesn’t say another word as we get to work in the scorching heat. I work hard, sweat running down my face. I don’t look at him, and I don’t talk
to him. I want to go inside, where it’s cool, but I don’t complain. I won’t complain. Not here. Not now.

  I’m busy shoveling a heap of dirt when I get distracted by a fight breaking loose over on the other side of the center. I bring the shovel down without looking and hit my toe. Pain radiates through my body, and I cry out in anger, and frustration, and pure agony.

  I throw the spade across the garden, and then I start kicking things. I kick, and I scream, grabbing anything in my path and tossing it as far as I possibly can. I’m so angry. So tired. So damned sick of being here. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I don’t want to cry myself to sleep anymore, then have nightmares of Celia Yates. I don’t want to feel the heaviness in my chest that makes me want to claw my own heart out.

  I don’t want to live the rest of my life in this kind of pain.

  “Callie!” Officer Corel grabs me, very quickly pinning my wrists to my sides. I’m panting, tears rolling down my cheeks.

  “I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” I sob. “I’m so tired of feeling so empty inside. I feel like even when I get out of here, I’ll have nothing. I’ll always be the girl who took an innocent life. I’ll always be a killer. I’ll never sleep a night and not see her face. I have no family. I only have one friend left. There is nothing left for me, in here or out there. I’m just . . . I’m done.”

  “Listen to me,” he growls, and I look up at him, tears streaming down my face. “You are not alone, not in here or out there. You’re going to get through this. It’s going to be hard. It’s going to feel like you can’t breathe. But you’re going to get through it. She deserves you to fight for her, to find out what happened to her, to get out of here and be the best version of yourself so that she didn’t die for nothing. If you give up now, she’ll never have anyone on her side. You might have made a mistake, but Callie, you can fix it. You don’t need family. You don’t need friends. You just need yourself.”

  “I don’t know if I can make it another five years. I don’t think I can. I don’t even want to think of it. It’s a lifetime when you’re my age. The idea of being in here, the idea of living with the horror I live with every day—it isn’t worth it for me.”