Chapter 5

Friday, 7:30 p.m.

Today was a rough day. Trials normally didn't get me this stressed…well, actually they did. I keep telling myself the next one will be different. Fear seems to be in my DNA. The doctors told me years ago it was because of the trauma I went through as a kid.

I think about the day my stepfather died. For years, all I could remember was what they said. That my mother heard me screaming, rushed into my room, and found him on top of me. He was dead, blood oozing from his neck. I was under him, the knife in my right hand. That's all. Simple.

I didn't serve a day in jail. I didn't live another day with my mother, either. The court forgave me. She didn't. I'd killed her man, taken her livelihood. The person who brought me into this world left town and never looked back. I ended up in foster care. My stepfather had taken my innocence. My mother had stripped me of my dignity. Still, sometimes I can still hear my mother’s screams, the police, the social workers, the decision not to prosecute her for letting that bastard of a husband do what he did to me, and the judge’s decision to set me free—

It was all there, coming back to me. Why now? I don’t know. Life had a twisted sense of humor. Ugh.

I drew a bath, poured in Epsom salts, and stepped into the tub. I immersed my body into the steaming water, and with a cry of relief I inhaled the saline vapor.

Sam, short for Samantha, my German shepherd, lay on the floor next to the tub. I scratched between her ears. “This is exactly what we need after a hard day, huh girl?”

Sam wagged her tail, turned her head sideways and licked my palm. Then she rested her head on her paws, her big, brown eyes staring up at me.

The salt penetrated my nostrils. Beads of sweat formed on my brow as the mist hung in the air. My breathing slowed.

Eyes closed, my muscles relaxed and soon the cramps floated away.

My cell rang, bringing me out of my tranquility.

Let it go to voicemail.

The mobile chirped. A text. I tried to ignore the intrusion, but my mind wouldn’t let me. I glanced at the screen.

187

Well, at least I was still alive, which was more than I could say about that poor soul.