Chapter 7 - The Confrontation in the Visiting BoothTwo weeks later, I walked into the Franklin County Correctional Facility visiting room. My ribs were healing nicely, the tape removed, and my posture was no longer that of a cowering girl hiding under paper gowns.
Derek sat behind the thick reinforced glass, wearing an orange jumpsuit that clashed violently with his blotchy, stressed skin. His eyes looked hollow, bloodshot from sleepless nights in a maximum-security holding unit.
He picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver. I mirrored him, picking up mine.
"Madison... you have to drop the charges," Derek whispered, his voice cracking with desperate rage. "We’re family! Mom is losing her mind in solitary! If you sign the plea deal Thorne suggested, we can settle this quietly!"
I stared at him through the smudged glass, feeling a profound, liberating sense of emptiness where fear used to live.
"You told me to choose how I pay or get out," I said quietly, my voice carrying clearly through the intercom speaker. "I chose neither. I decided to take everything."
Derek slammed his fist against the glass, his face distorting into a mask of pure fury as two corrections officers immediately stepped behind him, grabbing his shoulders and pinning his arms back.
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"You bitch! You’ll pay for this! You won't survive a week without us!" he screamed as they dragged him backward out of the booth.
I hung up the phone with a soft, deliberate click.
