Chapter One
“Ugh. Annie Anne. I’m gonna miss you so fucking much, girl,” my cellmate and the only broad in this dump allowed to call me Annie Ann, cried out. From the second I had gotten into the Northville Correctional Facility for Girls, Stabby was the only person I entrusted. Stabby’s real name was Mya, but no one was allowed to call her that. If you tried, you were usually the lucky recipient of finding out why her nickname was as such. Both of us were luckily transferred to the same maximum prison when we turned eighteen and somehow we got put into the same cell.
Most people called me Flames, but Stabby said my red hair reminded her of her old Raggedy Anne doll. As soon as I got out from behind these bars though, the red would be gone forever. I needed a new identity, and the first thing to change had to be what people knew me for. I had been in the juvenile prison for four years and real prison for another ten. It probably should have been more, but my public defender, an overworked, goody two shoes, trying to become a judge, pleaded temporary insanity. The judge must have taken some kind of pity on me as well when it came to sentencing.
For the first four years, I spent countless hours in therapy. No one could seem to grasp that what I had done wasn’t a moment of weakness but rather a moment in which I took back my own strength. No longer would I have parents who controlled my every movement. No longer would I be saddled with feelings of inadequacy, unable to live up to their high expectations. Pulling that trigger was my version of freedom, and given the choice, I wouldn’t have done a damn thing differently.
I was twenty-eight now, and when the bars closed behind me, instead of in front of me, I took my first deep breath. I was finally free. Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Aren’t you on parole? Sure. If they can find me.
The public bus picked me up about a mile from the prison gates, and I rode it until it ended. For tonight, I was going to stay in the cheapest motel in the heart of Detroit. Tomorrow, my life was going to change.
“Last stop,” the driver yelled and I nodded to him, exiting out of the back doors. Spotting a rent-by-the-hour just a few blocks down, I paid the skeevy guy behind the glass and took my room key. My temporary accommodations were exactly what you would expect for $25 but I didn’t care. I wanted a shower where I could control the temperature, and there wouldn’t be ten other pairs of eyes roaming down my dripping body.
It was only seven when I was back to being fully clothed and I grabbed the phone off the nightstand.
“Yeah,” the front desk greeted me.
“Where’s the closest drug store?”
“Two blocks west and one block north.”
I hung up. Not too far at all.
I grabbed my bag and opened my wallet. My money was stuffed in there and I was sure it wouldn’t fit another dollar. I smiled wildly. Mr. and Mrs. Annie Anne had a will and trust, leaving everything to their only daughter upon their untimely demise. Since neither of them had siblings, and the only living relative was my dearly departed mothers grandmother, who at ninety-seven couldn’t remember her own freaking name, when I turned eighteen, everything was left to me. No one was there to contest it. Now I’m not saying my parents were unGodly rich or anything, but I am saying there was a reason we could afford a half million dollar home in one of the most glamorous parts of Eastern Michigan.
I shoved my wallet back into my bag and retrieved my room key, locking the door tight behind me. I knew I probably shouldn’t have been walking around with this much cash, but if prison had taught me one thing, it was if you didn’t want it stolen, keep it on your person.
The walk to the drug store was quick and I picked up all of the essentials I would need. Hair dye was first and foremost, and it felt fitting that I would decide on a solid black. I picked out some new makeup, also in the darker shades, and a pair of shears. I wasn’t adverse to cutting my own hair. It wouldn’t be the first time. Along with a few personal hygiene items and some snacks to get me through the night, the last thing I needed was a disposable phone. There was a phone call I was dying to make and I needed to do it soon.
After I checked out and made my way back to my hotel, I grabbed a bag of chips out of my bag and began to think. Now that I was free there was so much that I wanted to do, but it would all have to wait. My top priority was finishing what I had started fourteen years ago, and I would be damned if anyone was going to stop me this time.
I let my mind wander to that night, all of those years ago. After I had lit the match, I should have taken off, but something kept me grounded to my spot in the backyard. I heard the sirens of the fire trucks and the police, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the roaring hellfire in front of me. The sweet heat of revenge was all consuming and even as they handcuffed me and drug me away, I watched the fires burn hot around the brick and mortar of my old prison, and its jailers. I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face at the vivid memory behind my eyes.
I had fourteen years to plan my revenge on the family next door who poisoned my childhood love with their words and who called the police
