The sun had barely risen when Hudson pulled up in his car.
His gaze swept over my cropped hair, and shock flickered across his face. "Thelma, your hair..."
He knew how much I treasured it. How much time and care I'd poured into it. How I used to wince over a single lost strand.
"It'll be easier to manage in there."
I looked up with an awkward smile, then turned to stare out the window.
The black Maybach sped down the highway and pulled up in front of the detention center.
"Thelma, it's only three years."
"I swear, the day you walk out, the kids and I will be right here waiting."
I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing at all.
Hudson didn't notice. He kept talking, laying out his plans for three years from now.
Three years. I'd already wasted ten on Hudson Farley.
Was I really going to waste three more?
I changed into the orange jumpsuit and walked through the prison gates.
A guard assigned me to a ten-person cell, impatience flashing in her eyes.
"Move it!"
"Keep your head down and behave yourself!"
She shoved me hard. I stumbled and hit the concrete floor.
A sharp hiss escaped my lips, but before I could even cry out, fists rained down on me from every direction.
"So this is the one the boss told us to give a warm welcome."
The women exchanged a look, and the blows came harder.
All I could do was curl into the corner and shield my head with both arms.
At some point, the one-sided beating finally stopped.
Three days. Just get through three days, and I'll be free.
The thought flickered through my mind as I curled into a corner and drifted into unconscious sleep.
On the first day, a guard rapped on the cell door.
"Thelma Pruitt, you've got a visitor. Clean her up, ladies. Make sure nothing shows."
The women laughed as they answered, smoothing my hair with deceptive gentleness.
"Don't even think about telling anyone," the ringleader hissed in my ear, her fingers finding a bruise and twisting until I nearly blacked out. "Or one day you'll just quietly stop breathing in here."
I stumbled to the visiting room in a daze. The moment I saw Colton Abbott, the tears came before I could stop them.
"Colton..." I picked up the phone, my voice shaking beyond my control. "It's Mommy. Colton, look at me. Please look at Mommy."
The little boy wore a crisp white shirt and black dress pants, styled like a miniature prince. I could see traces of Hudson in the line of his brows, the shape of his eyes.