Prisoner of Your Love

The front door was locked, but that was to be expected coming from this kind of person. All of the officers, holding their handguns firmly in between their two hands, turned to the chief for further instructions. It was a nice front door…maybe they should just pick the lock? Maybe not.

“You know what to do boys,” the chief said gruffly, “knock it down.”

Nobody moved at first. “What the hell, did I not just give an order? There’s a criminal in there who has ways of killing people through subtly. We’ve gotta confine her,” the chief explained, feeling as if he was working with a crew of amateurs.

Heaving back and forth, the police men used their shoulders and general brute strength to knock through the door, sending it flying off the hinges and falling into the foyer.

The rather large team of assembled officers stormed into the house. This was the first time for the LAPD that a murder had been committed, and that they had actually been on the trail.

“Imagine the publicity,” Chief Owens had said aloud when the folder of the case was being assembled.

He ordered immediate forensic attention, which is what led them to Adele. There were only two sets of fingerprints, one coffee pot, and one rivalry involved. The two prints, as you could imagine, belonged to CJ and Adele. The only decent coffee pot on the second floor was located in Adele’s room. Brief testimonies with some of the employees revealed that Adele was competitive and would do anything to eliminate competition.

Obviously, anyone with eyes could see that Adele must be the one responsible for CJ’s untimely, and unnecessary death.

Their heavy footsteps thudded on the stairs as they searched for the criminal’s bedroom. Adele jumped up in her bed. At first, she thought she was just hearing things, or maybe it was windy outside. But deep down inside, she knew what footsteps sounded like.

What she considered to be horrible scenarios popped into her mind. Robbers? Rapists? Crazed fans? No, it was actually something that would prove to be much worse than each of these. Someone kicked her door open just as she was about to get off her bed and hide.

“Freeze, LAPD!” the man shouted, pointing a gun at her.

“Thought you could get away before we found you, huh Miss Luis?” a man wearing a brown suit asked, stepping through the group of men.

“W-what the hell are you talking about?” she asked, confusion seeping into her body.

“Aw, isn’t that cute,” the man laughed, glancing at the cops surrounding him, “she’s going to play dumb.”

If they think that they can just talk to Adele Luis this way, then they were sadly mistaken! “Look, until you explain why you’re in my house, I suggest that you leave before I call the –.”

“The cops? Darling, we are the cops,” he snorted. “But if you must know, since your memory apparently failed you, we’re here to arrest you for the murder of CJ Morris.”

Before I could get any more protestation in, one of this man’s officers walked over and pushed me down onto my bed, handcuffing my hands behind my back. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the order of court. You have the right to hire a lawyer.”

This can’t be happening to me.

Mindy was busy walking as briskly as she could in her silver five-inch heels. Midnight seemed like the perfect time to stroll through Los Angeles. The cops had interrogated her only an hour ago, while she was lounging with some friends at a local bar.

She heard the news – CJ was dead. She pulled some act…saying through tears how he had been the best boss she had hoped for, how she didn’t think she’d ever be able to stop crying, and how she can’t believe her best friend had turned on her, killing her own boss.

However, what no one seemed to notice when she left the bar was the large smile on her face.

She finally made it home and wasted no time unlocking the key to her apartment. “How is it out there?” a male voice asked from within the shadows.

Mindy kicked off her heels and grabbed a beer from her fridge. “Even more perfect than we could’ve ever hoped. My story was genius. The cops are heading to her house now. Turn on the TV or something. I bet they’re doing a live story!” she gushed.

The man sitting in her room wasn’t exactly pleased with taking orders from her, but he decided to just this once. This was a special occasion, a celebration if you will.

~*~

Of all the CSI and Law & Order shows that Adele used to enjoy watching, she didn’t seem to find the same interest when she herself was the one being accused of a false crime. She had spent the past two weeks in a holding cell.

It would seem as if the only option she would have would be to admit to the guilt and avoid the death penalty, or possibly even life in prison without parole. “This is your last chance, Miss Luis,” the judge spoke, glancing up from his desk, “accept your guilt in this case and you will find yourself traveling down a much easier road for what you’ve done.”

Adele’s defense attorney, Marcus Rhode, nudged her, suggesting that she better take the sentence. Your situation must become pretty hopeless if your own defense is telling you to admit defeat. Adele wanted a lesser sentence, but she just couldn’t will herself to give in and give these evil bastards what they wanted.

But it was ok. Marcus took care of the immoral issue for her. “My client pleads guilty to the poisoning of CJ Morris,” Marcus said, standing up and pointing to Adele.

She looked up at him, feeling both relieved and pissed. How dare he point to her as if she were some criminal? She would make sure this would reflect in his final payment, that’s for damn sure.

The judge nodded his head thoughtfully. “Thank you for speaking your mind, Mr. Rhode, but your client needs to plead her own guilt before we can get anywhere.” The jurors laughed quietly, causing Marcus to turn red slightly.

Adele roughly pulled him closer to her. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You’re supposed to defend me,” she growled.

He shrugged, “I just saw an opportune career opportunity. Sorry, babe, it’s nothing personal.” It didn’t make any sense. How could a defense attorney benefit from not defending his client?

The judge sighed loudly. The case had dragged on much longer than it should have, in his opinion, and he was ready to get the hell out of that dismal courtroom. “Have you reached a decision yet, Miss Luis, or do we need to have the jury reach a verdict for you?”

Adele took a moment to analyze what was about to happen to her. If she pleaded guilty on her own, she’d be given an easier sentence. If she waited a few more minutes to hear the jury say that she was guilty, then she could end up dead real soon.

She swallowed the lump in the back of her dry throat. “I…I’d like to plead…g-guilty,” she mumbled, barely able to acknowledge that she was speaking these words.

That was the last time she really got to see the light of the sun.

The Los Angeles Prison wasn’t exactly the place where the nicest, pettiest criminals went. It was colorful, in the sense that there were criminals of all crimes here. Murder, rape, theft, stalking, DUI…you name it.

The majority of the population was male, mostly large, muscular, tattooed males at that. The outdoor yard was filled with men playing basketball, lifting weights, or just plain outright fighting.

Naturally, men who had been convicted of physically violent crimes, such as murder, tended to want to pick fights for no reason. “How much do you think we can break on that dude,” Matt Sanders, a murderous rapist asked, pointing to a lanky man standing alone toward the edge of the yard.

Brian Haner Jr., a feared murderer, glanced up from his game of Solitaire on the table. “I’d say three broken ribs, nose, jaw, maybe an arm,” he said, analyzing who would soon be their next victim.

Matt grinned, “Precisely.”

They advanced on the loner like vultures diving in on a fresh carcass. “S-Shadows…G-gates, what are y-you doing here?” he stuttered upon their arrival.

Matt grinned as he punched his open hand with his other closed fist. “We just need a little exercise that’s all,” Matt laughed. Brian counted to three.

Before the man could make a run for it, their fists collided on opposite sides of his face, stopping after they reached his nose. He was easily knocked down to the ground. The duo then proceeded to kick his ribs until they heard the desired cracking sound they had been searching for.

Once their work was done, the man laid in a twisted, uncomfortable position on the floor. Blood was spilling from his nose and some broken fragments of his ribs poked out of his skin. “Our work here is done,” Brian grinned, high-fiving Matt.

“Will Officer Brown please report to the front inspection office?” a voice called over the intercom.

Brian and Matt exchanged glances. They knew what this meant.

Officer Brown was always called to the front office when a new arrival showed up at the gates of the prison.

“Guess we better get ready to properly welcome our newest inmate,” Matt said as they walked back inside to get a look at their next victim.