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Writing.Com Time

Wednesday
May 30, 2012
9:01am EDT


Content Rating Notice: GC -- May Contain Graphic Content
Only For: 18 and Older, Not Easily Offended
  >> Static Item >> Novella >> Action/Adventure >> ID #1656582  |   Show DetailsPrinter Friendly Page Tell A Friend
Work In Progress
True story written as fiction
Rated:
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This item contains Edit Points (EPs). EPs are the red numbers (~#~) that you see within this item. The Author has placed these at various points in order to gain detailed feedback. Readers may click any EP to leave comments about that particular point in the item.

Chapter 1

"A correctional officer is entirely different," Bill explained to Rhonda. "It's so frustrating. You can't just lock 'em up and leave. They do everything in the book to antagonize each other and officers."

Life had been harsh the past couple of years. Bill had lost his job first at the Casino as Security Director, then the deputy sheriff job was only temporary and was not available when government funding had fallen through.

Rhonda thought maybe, just maybe, things would be better when Bill got a full time job in the adjoining county as a correctional officer. He had been a police officer years before and all he talked of was being an officer again.

The phone interrupted Rhonda's train of thought. "Yes, this is Mrs. Rogers."

"Mrs. Rogers, this is Lt. Hadley. Bill has been injured in a jail fight. He isn't seriously hurt but is at the hospital being checked out. He asked me to call you and let you know in case it came out on the news before he could let you know."

Rhonda hung up and made her way to the hospital emergency room. Bill was still angry when she arrived.

Before she could ask what had happened Bill blurted out, "Sons-of-bitches! I hate this job. One of the bastards kneed me in the nuts then pushed me down a flight of concrete steps. They were fighting and I had to break it up. None of the other officers came to help until it was too late. Bastards! They're as bad as the inmates."

The night went from bad to worse after they made it home. Bill stopped and bought a case of Bud Light on the way home to nurse his discontent with. This had become a daily event in the past few months. Rhonda couldn't understand how he could spend money they didn't have on alcohol. His job at the jail was barely above minimum wage and he had become almost disgusting to her with his drunkenness. Something had to change and quick.
"Rhonda, I know things haven't been going well between us lately. I know you can't stand for me to drink and I can't stand not to. I hate this job. I hate getting up in the mornings. I met someone today though that may have given me an opportunity to change it all."

"And how is that?" doubt permeated her tone.
"We had an inmate brought in today by a company that only extradites prisoners from state to state. The agent says his company is in need of more agents and gave me an application to fill out. He says they make good money. I'd be wearing a badge again and feel more like a law officer."

Bill filled out the application and mailed his resume to the extradition company. He received a call to set up an interview in Nashville, Tennessee the following week. While he was on the phone he requested another application be sent out.

"Rhonda, it would be great to have a two-badge family. I had an application sent out for you too." Bill announced.

"What makes you think I want to transport prisoners? I don't have any experience, don't want any experience in that field." Rhonda replied.

"We could be a team. We would be able to work together. I would teach you anything you needed to know. Why don't you just try it?" Bill pleaded.

Rhonda agreed to make the trip to Nashville with Bill for his interview, but conveniently left her blank application at home. She felt all prisoners belonged there and she had no sympathy, no empathy, whatsoever for them. She had lost a good friend when a man shot and killed her for only a small amount of money in a country store register. Within a month, the store she worked at was robbed, trashed, and the thieves received only a year. She didn't want any part of dealing with any prisoner in any manner.

"William Rogers," Bill said extending his hand for a handshake to the receptionist positioned behind the impressive marble desk.

"Mr. Sullivan will be with you shortly, Mr. Rogers. He is running a little behind on interviews today." the pert blond explained.

"Not a problem," Bill stated, "My wife forgot her application. Do you happen to have another she could fill out?"

Looking directly at Rhonda she asked, "You want to transport too?"

Without waiting for Rhonda's answer, she dialed a number and began a conversation, "That's right, his wife wants to get an application too."

Slinging her long blond tresses back, the receptionist told Rhonda, "The director of agents, Mr.Lopez will see you now, Mrs. Rogers. Mr. Rogers, Mr. Sullivan will be with you shortly."

"I haven't filled out the application yet," Rhonda protested.

"It's okay. You can do that later. We really need some female officers and Mr. Lopez would like to talk to you to see if you qualify."

Before she had time to think, Rhonda found herself in Mr. Lopez's office answering questions about her life and before she could express her doubts about the job she was employed with a company she had no desire to be affiliated with.

The next two weeks were a blur of furious packing to make a move to Nashville for the two week training course. Rhonda took a two week vacation from her current job and turned in her resignation with reservations.

Bill was like a new person since they had both been hired. He had pep in his step that had become dull. He was excited about life again. His drinking had deminished from being drunk every night to one or two beers.

Rhonda still had serious reservations. I'll never pass the course to be able to do this job. I wouldn't mind living in Nashville though. I could get a job doing something I'm sure. Bill won't care as long as he passes.I know nothing about law enforcement, handling prisoners, no way I'll make it through the training class.

Day one of class found them filling out form after form for employment purposes. Rhonda had to fill out all the original application forms as well. She had promised Bill she'd at least give class a try. He hadn't had a drink since they arrived, so she was more than willing to try if it made that kind of difference. There were two other females in the class, both at least twenty years her junior.

Knocking on fifty years old, they were at least twenty years older than most of the other students. There were twenty-two males and three females. The younger males didn't attempt to hide the fact they felt Rhonda was way out of her league in this atmosphere.

Smart alecks. These kids don't have a clue what I'm made of Ronda thought. They don't have any idea the hardship I have lived through raising my four natural children and five adopted ones single-handed.

The second day of class was spent learning the history of the company and it's goals in the extradition business. It was interesting to say the least Rhonda had to admit. She had no idea hundreds of thousands of inmates were transported across the nation yearly.

"I think you are beginning to like the idea of this work," Bill said over dinner that night.

"I have to admit it is interesting work and much different than I anticipated, but it is still early yet. I don't know enough yet to even consider making a final decision."

"Well, I'm glad you are trying anyway." Bill added.

The bubble almost burst the next morning. "We'll be taking a safe driving class today," Lt.Dumont their instructor announced. "You will all have to take the commercial driving test later today."

Fear gripped Rhonda to her core. She was horrified to drive in heavy traffic. She was a country girl and was petrified of driving in a small city, much less Nashville. Nausea overtook her as she tried to focus on the instructors directions.

"God must have been driving that van," Rhonda told one of her classmates. "I don't remember anything past driving out of the driveway. I can't believe I passed the test. I won't even visit my sister who lives in a small town because I've always been afraid of driving in the traffic. Maybe an old dog can learn new tricks."

Each day found Bill becoming more and more of a mentor to the young males in the class with his experience as a former law enforcement officer and a correctional officer. Rhonda found herself becoming a competitor wishing to show these young folks they didn't know everything. She had Bill practice self-defense with her in their hotel room each night and she was finding the extradition business more and more intriguing as each day passed. He coached her on the proper way to restrain and handcuff prisoners and drilled her on proceedures in handling inmates.

"This ought to be good," Robert said as a laugh escaped him.

"Today will probably put granny out of the running to pass this course," Nate answered.
"Yeah, why would a woman that old think she could do this kind of work when she has never done anything even close to it?" Robert went on.

The younger group had taken bets over drinks last night that Rhonda's last day would probably be today at the shooting range. She had surprised them thus far, but come on, this gave new meaning to granny get your gun!

"Don't underestimate determination and perseverance," Lt. Dumont said.

"Come on, Lt., you don't really think she's gonna pass this and make an extradition agent." Robert rebounded.
"I'm afraid Rhonda is one tough lady, who doesn't give up easy. I've seen stranger things happen. You and your buddies may have to recant some of your jokes when you have to ask for her help." Lt. Dumont added.

"Won't never see that," Nate piped in.
"What the hell? Who would have thought?" Robert stood amazed.

"What, you guys never seen a woman shoot a shotgun?" Rhonda asked. "Been hunting since I was five. I may not know all I need to about extradition yet, but I know how to handle people, and I know how to handle a weapon. My daddy taught me if I pull the trigger it better not get up." The elation Rhonda felt at having the best shooting score shone in her face.

"Can you help me out, give me some pointers?" Juli asked Rhonda with a new respect ringing in her voice. "You should have seen the guys faces. The more you shot the wider their mouths got."

"First of all you have to hold the stock of the shotgun tight against your shoulder. Then lean into your shot a little more. Aim for center mass. This is a shotgun, you'll hit something if you aim for the center. Now squeeze the trigger."

Day by day, the quiet grandma metamorphosed into a self-confident woman ready to tackle whatever obstacle necessary to become an extradition agent. She scored the highest of all the students in class, she out shot all of them including Bill who had been a sharpshooter in the Army and even withstood being sprayed with freeze + P spray better than most. She aced the fight stages and pressure point self-defense.

Heart in her throat, Rhonda had been assigned as junior agent to Master Sgt. Vila for the on the job training phase of her employment as a special extradition agent. She still had much to learn, but learn she would.

"Where are we going first," Rhonda inquired of her trainer.

Sgt. Vila's Puerto Rican accent spouted, "New York."

"New York!" Rhonda looked toward the heavens, "God, you better know Your way around there, cause You know You're going to have to take the wheel when we get there!"
* * *
Chapter 2

The extradition team had already picked up eleven males across the nation for transport to different prisons and jails. This last inmate was female. That meant she would have to travel in what the agents referred to as the "hot box."
Extradition vans are equipped to carry a maximum of twelve inmates and two agents. The vans are customarialy Ford 350 vans or comparable size in another make vehicle. The back doors opened up to reveal two bench seats on either side of the van capable of seating four individuals on each. The rear side door opened only from the outside to ensure inmates are transported securely with no chance of escape. Another bench seat is found with a small compartment formed on the far side by iron mesh with a door opening toward the rest of the compartment. This door is secured with lock and key and is only 30 inches wide. It gives new meaning to tight space. The remainder of the bench seats three people forming a tight fit for even small individuals and excruciating closeness for large people. The agents, of course, are up front in bucket seats with an area for paperwork and the console. The front of the van is separated from the back by iron mesh-work as well.
The agents refer to the small compartment as the "hot box" because it is often used as a diciplinary measure to separate an inmate causing problems on the trip.
It is also used when transporting both male and female inmates to keep the genders seperate. As a usual, rule if all twelve inmates are the same gender the door to the small compartment is locked in an open position. Each compartment resembles a cage with no windows and reinforced by steel and iron. Each of the three compartments is outfitted with a metal door six inches square with a hasp and lock. This is used to pass food, drink and medication to the inmates enroute to their destinations. These trips can take anywhere from a few minutes up to six weeks or more to complete.
Inmates are transported fully secured. At pickup time they are placed in handcuffs, leg irons, martin chain (also refered to as a belly chain), black box, and a chain from the handcuffs to the leg irons or interconnected to another prisoner. They are kept in these at all times while in the van.
And today, Rhonda and Vila are picking up a female. They already have eleven males on board. The only option they have is to place her in the isolation compartment. It would be bad enough to be confined in such a small space, but the stench of body odor was becoming strong. They had been on the road for two days now and it would be another full twenty-four hours before they were scheduled to house the inmates at a facility to rest, shower, and give Rhonda and Vila opportunity to clean and freshen the van.
Vila pulls the van into the sally-port of the facility. The inmates are unloaded and escorted into the jail . A correction officer directs them to an empty cell and Rhonda and Vila make their way to an officer to take care of routine paperwork before the rest of the process of picking up an inmate takes place.
Rhonda is escorted to the holding cell the inmate is in to do the necessary questioning, inspecting, and searching to be able to transport the woman is completed.
"I am officer Rogers. I need to ask you some questions and check the personal property you will be taking with you during extradition. First of all your full name is Rochelle Renae Reynolds?"
Looking much like a little scared mouse, the twenty-three year old seemed taken off guard. "Yes, but I didn't know I was going to be extradited today. Can I call someone before I leave? I need to talk to my boyfriend and let him know Maryville is going to make me come back?"
"No. Security reasons prevent you having any calls before extradition. I'll make this as painless as possible, but there are rules that must be followed. Do you have any medical problems? Take any medications?"
"I have anxiety attacks. I am claustrophobic. I almost can't stay in the small cells here. I just can't breath." The young woman's voice was filled with fear.
"Do you take any regular medication for these attacks?" Rhonda asked.
"Nothing I have medication for with me. I just need it when I have an attack and I haven't seen a doctor in a while. I don't have money for meds. I lost my job." Tears began to trickle down Rochelle's cheeks. "I was on my way to an interview when I went through a road block. That's how they found out I had broken probation from Maryville. I had to get away from there to get straight though. That's why I left. I've kept a job and everything since I moved here."
Rhonda had heard the same story over and over as she traveled state to state extraditing inmates. No one was ever guilty. If they were, they were always breaking parole or probation because it was the ONLY way they could change their lifestyle. They were framed. There was always some excuse for being in jail in the first place. Probably one percent of the time the inmate was telling the truth. The remainder of the time they just didn't want to take responsibility for the mistakes they had made landing them in jail.
The interview process complete, Rhonda and Rochelle were escorted by a deputy to a place of privacy so Rhonda could strip search her inmate.
"I need for you to remove all your clothing. I will provide you with an extradition uniform you will be required to wear for the duration of the trip. This trip may be short. It may be long. We are given the itinerary on a daily basis as to where we will go. We may go several states in the wrong direction to reach Maryville. This is a normal proceedure in extradition. This trip will not be an easy one, but based on behavior, I will make it as easy as possible. I need for you to lift your breasts. Now squat and cough."
"It's so embarrasing," Rochelle said in a small voice.
"Everyone has to go through the same process, " Rhonda explained. "It is for your protection as well as others. I have found weapons or things that could be used for weapons."
Rochell's property had been gone through, listed and properly placed in a property bag for transportation. This property could not be accessed again until delivery of the inmate to her destination. All forms were filled out and in order. Rhonda had signed a release form accepting transfer of custody of the inmate, placed Rochelle in restraints and now to the van for the long extradition trip.
Vila had given the eleven male inmates a bathroom break while Rhonda was gaining custody of Rochelle. He had eight seated in the back of the van waiting for Rhonda and the female to load up.
"Rochelle, this is going to be difficult for you. I know you told me you have a problem with small places. You are going to have to get in that small space and I am going to have to lock that gate behind you."
Panic in her eyes, Rochelle gasped, "No! I can't. I just can't get in there. I won't be able to breathe!"
Calmly Rhonda spoke to the frightened woman again. "Rochelle, I will help you. We don't have a choice as to whether you will go or not. We also don't have a choice as to how. You are traveling with eleven males and you have to be seperated by iron mesh from the males. That leaves only this compartment. Now, I am going to take your arm and help you up the step to the seat."
With a heightened sense of anxiety, Rochelle inched closer to the open door of the van. Looking back at Officer Rogers, she got into the van and sat on the seat. Her breath began to come in fast gasps.
"Just sit here a minute, " Rhonda coaxed. "Now, inch over a little. I am going to get in beside you and help you move over to the corner.
Eyes wild with fright, Rochelle exclaimed, "I can't! I can't get in that place and no window or nothing!"
"Yes, you can. Take a deep breath. That's right. Take another one. Okay. Now I want you to close your eyes. That's right, just close your eyes and breath deep. Take your time. Don't open your eyes, but scoot over just a little. That's it, Rochelle. Little by little, " Rhonda gently coaxed.
As Rochelle's shoulder touched the wall of the van, her eyes popped open. With a catch of her breath, she wailed, "I'm going to be sick."
"No you're not. Close your eyes again. Deep, even breaths. Just keep your eyes closed until you can handle it. I am going to close the gate now. Every time you feel overwhelmed just close your eyes. You will be okay now."
Vila placed the other three males in the van on the bench next to the isolation cage.
"Officer Rogers, " Smith, one of the males said.
"Yes," she responded.
"Mam, you know that's the first time I ever saw a officer do something like that."
"Like what Smith?"
"Help one of us that way. Most would have just throwed her in that cage, or sprayed her with pepper spray. They wouldn't of got up there and helped her do what she's got to do."
* * *
Chapter3}


Oldies from the fifty's and sixties were blasting from the radio in the 1970 Ford LTD. Vila was singing along at the top of his lungs, the vehicle going faster and faster as the beat of the music became faster. He was feeling euphoric and filled with confidence Mindy was so dependent on him she would once again believe he'd just come in off of a trip. There was no way she'd ever know the lie he'd continually told her about him and Tonya breaking up was a lie.

"Oh, no!" One scream, then only blackness.

Juan Cordova, a policeman with the Taylorsville Police Department, was listening to his scanner even though it was his day off. When law enforcement is in your blood, you have to know what's going on even on your days off. Addictive, compulsive, whatever you want to call it, you don't stop being an officer on or off duty.

Dispatch was sending two ambulances and two units to take care of the wreck at the edge of town. Juan recgonized one of the tags being run as being on the vehicle owned by Vila. He called dispatch to verify he was right. Dispatch told him it was the vehicle Vila drove and one of the individuals being transported to the County Hospital was Valentin Vila, a hispanic male. The other individual was a female who had been driving a Chevrolet S-71. Dispatch told him the accident had caused significant damage to both vehicles.

"The Vila's are friends of mine," Juan told the dispatcher. "I will call the home and tell his wife about the accident and where he is being taken. Please advise the officers working the accident."

The phone rang as Mindy was leaving to go to Wal-Mart to get cigarettes and gas, "Hey, Juan. What?"

"Mindy, listen to me carefully. Vila has had an accident. He is injured, but I don't know the extent of his injuries. I heard it on the scanner and checked with dispatch to be sure it was him. He is being taken to Ross General."

"What happened, Juan?" Mindy asked with her voice trembling. "Are you sure it's Vila? He wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow."

"I am sure it is his vehicle from the tag number. I don't have any details, Mindy. Just where they were taking him. I knew you'd want to get there as fast as possible."

"You're sure he's alright?" Fear permeated Mindy's shaky voice. She knew all too well how fast and erratic Vila could drive.

"I don't know for sure, Mindy. All I know is he was in the accident and was transported by ambulance to Ross."

"Okay. Okay. The kids will be in from school soon." Fear was turning to panic by the second.

"Don't worry about that. I'll call Linda at school and have her bring the girls home with her." Juan told Mindy.

"That's good. I am glad Linda is a teacher at their school. You two have been such good friends. I am going to get off this phone and go to the hospital now. Thank you, Juan."

Mindy broke every traffic law possible on her way to the hospital. Her mind was racing ninty miles a minute with every horrible scenario possible evading her brain.

The emergency room was overrun with patients. Nurses, gurneys, orderlies, and doctors all going at warp speeds in an attempt to care for everyone. "We have two more ambulances unloading," RN Hollis called down the hallway.

RN Hollis found the In Case Of Emergency card in the Puerto Riccan man's wallet. Tonya Hembree was listed to call. Ms. Hollis had contacted the young lady who fell apart on the phone.

"Ms Hembree, Mr. Vila has you listed as first to contact in an emergency. You need to calm down before you try to drive here."

Calm down! How can I calm down? Vila is unconcious. Oh, my God he can't die, God he just can't die.

The blast of a horn brought Tonya back to reality. She had almost hit another vehicle. Okay, you want be any good to Vila if you have a wreck too. Calm down. Deep breath. Another one. Okay, watch what you are doing. Watch for the right exit. Ross General, did that nurse say the first or fifth street to the right. Dickens, that's it Dickens street.

Tears streaming, Tonya parked her car and raced through the emergency room doors.

"I am here for Valentin Vila. He was involved in a vehicle accident. A nurse from here called me," Tonya explained to the receptionist in the emergency room waiting area.

"Let me see where Mr. Vila is," the woman told Tonya.

"Mr. Vila is in exray now, but will be in room 216 West shortly. You may wait there if you wish."

"Yes, I'll do that," Tonya said. "Who is his doctor and when may I speak with him?"

"I believe Dr. Jonas is the attending physician. I'm not sure about when he'll be available for a conference. Maybe the nurses at the nurse's station can give you more information."

Tonya was agast at Vila's appearance as he was brought back from exray. His face had several lacerations and was swollen. Bruises had already formed on his forhead and arm, blotchy blue and purple areas as big as a baseball.

"He has been unconcious since before leaving the scene of the accident," the nurse revealed. "His vital signs have been irregular. He doesn't have any broken bones and that's good. He must have hit his head on the windshield. He does have a deep bruise on his chest, probably caused by the steering wheel."

"Why isn't he awake? Is he going to be alright?" Tonya questioned the nurse.

"I'm sorry I don't have any more to add. Dr. Jonas will have to discuss that with you. I wish I could help. I know it must be a shock. Dr. Jonas will be around in a couple of hours if not before. You can stay here in the..."

A deep cough coming from Vila interupted the nurse.

"Vila, " Tonya immediately reached and stroked his face.

Vila groaned in pain without waking.

Another car parked in the parking lot of Ross General. Today must be the day for females to make mad dashes to the emergency room. The woman burst through the doors as if hell were on her tail.

"My name is Mindy Vila and my husband was brought in from a vehicle accident, " Mindy told the receptionist in the emergency room breathless from her sprint.

"You're sure you are Mrs. Vila?" the receptionist had a puzzled look on her face.

"Yes. I am sure I am Mrs. Vila? Where is my husband? Is he going to be alright?" Mindy exclaimed. Panic was beginning to overtake her with the receptionist's strange behavior. He has to be alive. He just has to be alive.

"I think there has been a mistake," the receptionist began.

"What kind of mistake? Where is my husband? I want to see him right now!" Mindy exploded.

"Let me get our administrator for you. He can help you and answer your concerns."

What is going on. Why won't they tell me what is happening with Vila? He has to be alright! He just has to be alright. We are just getting things back together. Oh, God, please let him be alright. Mindy was having trouble breathing from pure fear.

A tall, dark haired, slender man entered the waiting room. "I am Ronald Heiman, administrator for Ross General, Mrs. Vila."

"Why won't anyone tell me where my husband is and what his condition is?" Mindy blurted out.

"Mrs. Vila, do you have some form of identification on you?" Mr. Heiman asked.

"Yes, but why do you need my ID for me to see my husband? He's not dead is he?" Mindy's heart was in her throat as she began to hyperventilate. "Tell me! You have to tell me!"

"Calm down Mrs. Vila. Mr. Vila is alive. He has been taken to room 216 West. There just seems to be a conflict of information here. Do you know someone named Tonya Hembree?" he asked.

"I do, but why?" Mindy asked, anger creeping in her tone.

"Mrs. Vila, that person was listed as first emergency contact on a card in Mr. Vila's wallet," he began.

Mindy raced down the hallway toward 216 West with Mr. Heiman rushing after her. She opened the door just as Tonya reached out to touch Vila's face.

"Bitch!" Mindy screamed. "You get away from my husband!"

The nurse and Mr. Heiman stood eyes round with astonishment.

Mindy whirled around facing Mr. Heiman. "I'm the wife, she's the whore and here is my I D to prove it!" she said handing him her military dependant I D card.


* * *

There are several chapters yet to be written to interject here.

* * *

Chapter?}


Every day had been a living nightmare. Vila was Mindy's first love. They had married when she was still a teenager. He was her whole world. Finding he was not the man she'd married was hard. She'd thought he was the most handsome man, the greatest dad, Mr. Charming himself. She believed to the depth of her soul he felt the same about her. Now she was discovering more and more women he had been making feel the same way.

"Rhonda, how in the name of all that is holy did I so deceive myself. How could I not see some of this?"

"He's the ultimate in deception having fooled everyone. You have to realize there is still life to be lived. You must force yourself to get through the days until you are able to want to face each day again."

Mindy's depth of depression and hopelessness increased daily. She received no financial help from Vila. The piece of paper stating he was to provide child support and insurance neither fed them nor covered doctor bills.

"Can your Mom keep the kids while you come to the book signing tomorrow? I'll be helping and it would take your mind off your situation for a while." Sandy heard a deep sigh that turned into a sob at the other end of the phone line.

"Mindy what's wrong?"

"You know I told you my car was not running right? Well, Vila took it claiming he was going to fix it. He didn't bring it back. I don't have anyway of going anywhere. Clarksville is a forty-five minute drive to Nashville and walking is my only way of transportation."

"Is the title in your name or his?"

"It has both names on it or I would have reported it as stolen. With it in both names though my hands are tied."

Rhonda slammed the telephone receiver down. Okay, enough is just enough! She rented a vehicle for Mindy to use tomorrow.

Barnes and Noble was crowded to overflowing the next afternoon for the book signing. Mary Higgins Clark and P. J. Parrish were featured speakers this year at the forums. Rhonda was enjoying such distinguished company. This was the most fun she'd had in a long time.

Mindy had made it in time to hear all the speakers. She was thrilled when Rhonda introduced her to everyone. After the signing, they were enjoying a cup of coffee together.

"You know the old car isn't worth much and has not run right in a long time, but I can't afford another one. I wish there was some way to sneak up to the apartment where he is living and get it."

"You have a key?" Rhonda questioned.

"To what? The car? We'd never get away with it! They have Security guards on duty twenty-four seven where he lives. Oh, I'd love to though. Wouldn't you just love to see his face when he realizes it's gone." Mindy laughed out loud at the thought.

"Well, you can't be arrested for stealing your own car."

"What if he catches us?"

"What if he does? The title has your name on it too. Who can stop us?"

"Look he already choked me almost to death once. He wouldn't stop this time. You know he'd, he'd... Hell, who cares, let's go I've got the spare key.."

The two left Rhonda's car at a service station a few blocks from the apartment building knowing if Vila saw it in the parking lot he'd recognize it and their plan might not go well. They waited until it was dark and drove slowly around the parking lot.

"There it is!" Mindy squealed. "His apartment is there." Mandy pointed to the door directly across the parking lot.

There was a huge spot of oil underneath the car spreading beyond the tires. "It might not even make it out of the parking lot. What will we do then?" Mindy ventured.

Sandy crept by the parked vehicle and began her second trip around the entire apartment complex. She was fearful of being caught too, but Vila didn't need two cars and it just wasn't fair. Mindy should have the vehicle.

Fear clutched both women as the headlights of Security's vehicle caught them on their way through the back lot.

"Smile." Rhonda prompted. "Wave."

The guard waved back and they let out a deep sigh of relief. As they approached the little red car Mindy had driven for the past five years Rhonda stopped. Mindy got out of the truck.

Looking across expecting Vega's door to fly open at any second, Mindy's hand shook as she unlocked the door to the car. The motor tried to turn over on the first try, but failed. Her heart was in her throat. Tears began to stream down her face. She tried again and the motor sputtered then started.

Rhonda had been holding her breath and gazing at the closed door expecting a gun to pop out. Mindy sped out of the drive with the old car jumping all the way. Down the hill they drove. Each glanced behind them expecting Vila's vintage Ford to come roaring after them.

They never stopped until they reached Christy's home in Joelton. She had agreed to hide the car if they were successful in getting it. The little red car died just as Mindy got it in it's hiding spot.

"I wish I could be a fly on the wall when he walks out that door," Mindy laughed.

"He will be blowing like a mad bull."

"If it can be fixed without much cost, I'll get it repaired. If not, he'll never know where it went. He'll think I have it, but never be able to prove it. That in itself is a small victory since he thinks I' m just as dumb hillbilly anyway."

Rhonda could hear the hope returning to Mindy's voice. The old car wasn't worth anything money-wise, but Mindy had finally won a small battle. Maybe this would be the turning point in regaining a life that had been dead too long already.

* * *

More chapters to be introduced later.

* * *
Chapter ?
{NOTE: This chapter will eventuall become more than one chapter~one when Mindy was being choked~another when Maryssa was visiting her dad. There is much fleshing out to be done.


Only a few days ago, life seemed to be on the right track; only joy flooded her heart. Ben treated her with a gentleness totally opposite of her last relationship. He cared about her...about her wishes, wants, goals, her destiny. He didn't go balistic when she disagreed with his opinions. He was different from any male influence she had ever had in her life.

Life at home had been less than a piece of cake before mom and dad had divorced. Dad was a narcissist in the purest form. He is a control freak. Disagreeing with him causes violent eruptions of physical, emotional, and verbal abuse swallowing up whomever was in his path at the moment.

He'd almost choked mom to death when she was pregnant with her little brother, Adrian, because Mom had taken enough money to buy school clothes for them. Dad had not given her permission to do so. She and Sissy ran next door for help. If they hadn't Mom would surely have died.

There had been a short reprieve while the courts decided on custody issues. She nor her siblings had to go visit Dad during this time. The dark clouds lifted for a little while and life was light, ballgames, music, and simple everyday living without the dread or fear of the emerging, raging animal Dad could transform into so quickly.

Then the judge made his decision and regular visitation began. There were normal arguments with Mom like every teenager and parent experiences. Sure, Mom could have fits of anger at times. Sometimes, she was too close and overpowering. She had rules and God help you if you broke them, but she wasn't going to kill you. You knew she'd calm down. It didn't change the fact that she still felt she was right and you were wrong. See, that's part of the trouble. Adults always think they are right and yelling and anger overflow onto you before they even try to understand what you are saying or feeling.

Still Mom, as mad as she could get, never put her hands around her throat and squeezed refusing to let go even when your face and lips began to turn blue.

Yeah, that really happened. Maryssa had gone to the refrigerator while visiting with her sperm doner to get a piece of cheese to eat. She was hungry. It had never been a problem at home. It wasn't like she was eating the last bit of food in the house or overeating. But Dad had not given her permission to do so. The fight began. The instant she tried to tell him she was just hungry his fist slammed into the side of her head. Dazed, she was shocked to realize her own father was choking her.

Sissy managed to slip out of the chaos with a cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. When the cops arrived, Dad convinced them she was the problem and was a rebellious teen with an attitude. Even when Mom showed up to tell the cops Dad was capable of such actions, they sent her home because Dad's parenting time was not yet up. Nothing done, no where to turn again.

Her boyfriends seemed to imulate her Dad. Mom had forced her to break up with the last one for that very reason. She thought it was just Mom trying to isolate her and not let her have any freedom. Not fun at the time, but in retrospect Mom had seen it with a clear head preventing her from being just another casuality of physical abuse.

Enter Ben. Even Mom approved of him. He had good manners. He was respectful to her, to Mom, Sissy, and took up time with Adrian. The dog and cat even liked Ben.

She could open up and talk about the things that meant most to her, the things she liked and disliked. She shared her innermost feelings and dreams with Ben. One of those dreams being to be free of all the constraints placed on her at home. There'd be no one to nag at her about a messy room all the time, or to constantly push her to study harder. There would be no one to monitor her every move. It seemed everyone wanted her to be an adult, yet they treated her like a child.

Ben walked her to class every day now. Ben listened patiently, compassionately. He understood her. Quality of life improved drastically. She could allow herself to dream again. She could share a part of herself with someone instead of isolating herself from the whole world except for Gracie, her cat, of course.

Ben reached for Maryssa's hand. Sparks of electricity flowed through her entire being. She felt more exhilarated than when she hit the winning homerun at the All Stars softball game last spring.

Mom was at work until after midnight tonight. Sissy had taken Adrian to the park. Maryssa and Ben were snuggled up on the couch sharing her favorite fleece blanket with the racing horses depicted on it watching a movie.

Her pulse raced at the nearness of him. Her nostrils caught the scent of his soap, fresh and invigorating. Ben reached out his hand and gently brushed her cheek. He bent his head and the touch of his lips on hers felt like butterflies brushing by. Her palms became sweaty. A tingling sensation was set off like fireworks beginning in the pit of her stomach radiating outward until they seemed to explode through her fingertips.

Ben's voice was husky, "You're trembling. Are you cold?"

Her whisper came out with a catch, "No."

As she leaned toward him with intentions of laying her head on his shoulder, Ben kissed her full on the lips, long and tender.

Maryssa reached out to touch his cheek now.

"I love you, Maryssa."

"I know. I love you too."

"I promise I won't hurt you. I want to touch you, hold you. I want to make love to you."

Maryssa's eyes shone with unshed tears. She was unsure if they were tears of happiness, sadness, fear, or a combination of all three. She took a deep breath.

"I don't want to make you mad, but I thought we'd decided to wait and not have sex until we finish school."

"I know. It's so hard. I love you so much. I just want to show you how much. It's okay. We'll wait." Ben hugged her tighter to him.

But they hadn't waited. Now she could feel her soul leaking from her body in droplets falling from her eyes. She never envisioned her desire for complete freedom would mean becoming a mom so soon.

* * *


More chapters to be written and placed.



~~~~~~~~~(Possible Last Chapter)~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tigger, the thirty-five pound black and white monster, excuse me! cat was on the dining room table enjoying his early morning cup of coffee as he did each day.

"You really do have us all trained to be your humans don't you?" Mindy asked the old cat as he dipped his paw in the cup of milky sweet coffee one more time. Self-satisfaction smeared all over his face, Tigger purred and returned to his coffee.

Mindy's thoughts wandered back to her encounter last night with Vila.

The old car sitting in the parking lot of Sam's Steakhouse fooled no one. Vila had staked out the restaurant where Mandy worked more than a few times. Even the other employees had come to recognize the scowling Puerto Riccan face by now.

"Why does that asshole keep on following and watching you?" Valerie asked Mindy as they worked on refilling salt and pepper shakers for the tables.

"It's a control thing."

"But you've been divorced two years! What is he accomplishing?"

"Vila thinks once he "owns" you, he is entitled to controlling your every move, thought, everything for forever. He doesn't want you, but nobody else can have you either. You are not allowed to think without his approval."

With the restaurant clean, tables readied for the next day's business, condiments all married, side work completed, the lights were turned out and Mindy made her way across the dark parking lot toward her car.

A voice screamed out the vehicle window, "Puta. Whore. Who you screwing now?"

"Not tonight, Vila. I have had a long day and I'm tired, too tired to try to argue with you, talk to you, have any contact whatsoever with you. Just give it up. Go home." she calmly, quietly said.

"Bitch!" Vila goaded her, wanting a fight.

"You know, there was a time I would have cried all night when you talked to me that way. Not now." she replied, never changing the tone of her voice.

Blotchy red color crept up his neck and his usual demeanor of pursing his lips in frustration and blowing like a mad bull in a bullfight was his reaction to Mindy's complacency.

Laughter pierced the darkness. "You know you are going to bust, or have a heart attack or something, if you don't calm down. Your anger doesn't bother me anymore. Can't you see that?"

"Fucking hillbilly!" he screamed the degrading name he always used when he wanted to push her over the edge.

"Look Vila, it's like this, the threats don't scare me anymore. You have hired ex-cons to scare me, assault me, even kill me. All the hell you put me through is over. I know I wasn't imagining things, my mind is just fine. Yours is the deranged one. Anyone that can do to me and the kids what you have has to be deranged."

"I ain't crazy!" he screamed at her huffing louder.

"Well, you must be. You just keep on." Knowing life could change in a heartbeat, she felt a twinge of the old fear return. At his hands and those of the one's he'd hired, she'd come so close to being dead. But I'm alive, really alive again, she thought. Turning toward Vila as he began the next approach, she simply shook her head.

"I've always loved you," Vila began. Pleading now, "You know you still love me, Mindy. Why you acting that way? I just want to be a family again," he was begging in earnest.

"In those famous last words, 'frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn'." Mindy whispered to him with a peace in her voice that had not been there for a very long time. Smiling, she turned and got in her car to go home knowing she really didn't care about Vila anymore.

True to form, a barrage of angry obscenities followed her.

Mindy arrived home to hear screeching tires turning the corner as Vega sped by the house. No matter she thought. I refuse to let him bother me tonight. She reached for the phone and called the police. Juan, was the officer taking the call.

Just as the police arrived, Vila rammed his car into the shed in the yard.

Mindy's thoughts came back to the present. "Tig, the look on Vila's face was priceless as Juan put the handcuffs on him."

"Meow," Tigger answered as if he'd understood every word she said.

She was over that bastard, really over him. Tranquility took over as they finished their morning cup of coffee.

He may have won more battles than she had, but she had won the war.



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