He Made Me Pay for Five Years; Now He Regrets

Charlotte’s POV. I stood at the gates of the women’s correctional facility, my hand raised to shield my eyes. It’s been five years since I felt direct sunlight on my face and the sudden change made the large scar on my cheek itch. Absent-mindedly, I pressed my palm against it without thinking. The rough texture of my glove scraped against the raised tissue, and I pulled my hand away quickly. Five years. I had counted every single day. A black car was parked at the curb. I recognised the Hill family crest on the door, the same one I had seen on the day of my wedding. I remembered thinking I was the luckiest woman in the world that day but now… it felt like a lifetime ago. Like I was a completely different woman. An elderly chauffeur stepped down from the car and I recognized him immediately. He took the small bag I was holding without a word and pulled open the door for me. “Where’s my husband?” I asked, my voice came out rougher than I expected. “He said he would come pick me up himself.” The chauffeur wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Mr Hill had business to attend to, ma’am. He tried to be here, personally.” A knot formed in my throat. I had spent five years dreaming of this moment, imagining my husband, Mason, waiting for me at the gates with his arms open and his eyes full of forgiveness. I had imagined him whispering into my ears that it was okay, that we could start over, that he still loved me. But he wasn’t here and I had no right to be angry. No right to expect anything. Quietly, I got into the back seat and the chauffeur drove off. I had forgotten what comfort felt like because it took a while for me to adjust to the leather seat beneath me. I simply sat stiffly, with my hands folded in my lap. The black gloves I wore were uncomfortable in the summer heat, but I couldn’t take them off. I couldn’t let anyone see what was left of my hand. My left ring finger and pinky had been cut off. The memory flashed through my head. The cold metal table, the hands that held me down, the blade, the blood and the blood curdling scream that tore from my throat yet no one came to my rescue. In prison, no one came to help anyone. My eyes dropped down to my gloved hands and my chest tightened at the image of what they used to look like five years ago. Long graceful fingers that could dance across the strings of my cello, fingers that could compose music and now they were broken and ruined. Just like everything else. From the rear view mirror, I watched the prison grow smaller in the distance. I had spent years picturing the day I would get past those walls and now that it was here, I felt nothing but emptiness. Because the mistake I made five years ago was still haunting me. It was raining heavily that night, I was driving home from rehearsal, hungry and exhausted. My mind was occupied and I didn’t see her until it was too late. Nerissa, Mason’s little sister. The sound of her body hitting my car still haunts me. I could still see her blood on my hands, still see the look on Mason’s face as the court sentenced me to five years in prison. He never said a word to me, he simply walked out of the courtroom and I knew right there and then that he hated me. I hated myself too. His parents, Jendry and Olivia sat in the front row, their expressions as hard as stone and I couldn’t blame them, I had taken their daughter. Now, five years later, I was free. But I didn’t feel free. I felt like I was drowning. Like I was still trapped in that cell, staring at those gray walls, counting the seconds until I could breathe again. I told myself I would never look back, but I couldn’t help it. I had been trapped in that place for five years. I had given birth there and only held my baby girl for thirty-seven minutes before they took her away from me. She was so small. So perfect. I had called her Little Grape but I never got to call her that again. After Mason took her away, I never got to see her again. I closed my eyes and tried to remember her face. Her tiny fingers wrapped around mine. Her soft cry. But the memory was fading and I hated myself for it. The car drove through the city streets, past buildings that still looked the same but different. The world had moved on without me. People were living their lives, going to work, falling in love while I remained frozen in time, locked away like a forgotten photograph. The car pulled into the Hill estate and my heart started beating wildly in my chest. The gates opened slowly to reveal the long driveway lined with oak trees. The grand mansion loomed before me. I remembered the first time I saw it, Mason had brought me here for dinner, and I had felt like Cinderella stepping into a fairy tale, except mine was never really a fairytale. The car came to a stop and the chauffeur opened my door. And for the first time since the chauffeur picked me up, I realized I had no idea how everyone would react. It didn’t matter if I was still married to Mason, it’s been five years, I was the woman responsible for Nerissa’s death, they would never see me the same way again. I hesitated for a minute, my legs dangling from the car. How could I possibly face them again? What would little grapes think of me? The absent mother she hadn’t seen for five years? How would my husband and his family react?