Prison Gate

Ciara Summers stepped out of the prison just as the sky turned dusky. She had been granted a one-day bail, with her freedom hanging on the ticking clock. Clutching a piece of paper with an address scribbled on it, she boarded a bus parked at the prison gate. The ride took her through winding roads, and by the time she arrived at a secluded mansion halfway up a mountain, the day had surrendered to night.

A silent doorman greeted her and guided her through the grand but shadowed halls, leading her to a dark bedroom. The moment she stepped inside, the heavy scent of blood hit her. Before she could adjust to the darkness, strong arms yanked her forward, pulling her into a tight embrace. A warm breath brushed against her ear. “So, you’re the last pleasure they sent for me... the call girl?”

The words struck her hard. “Call... girl?” she whispered, tears welling up. Fear gripped her as her voice trembled. “Are you... dying?”

“Yes. Any regrets taking this job?” The man’s voice was cold, his sneer almost visible in the dark.

“No,” Ciara answered quietly, sorrow filling her voice. Regret wasn’t an option for her. Her mother’s life depended on her completing this task. Though she couldn’t see his face, something about him didn’t seem like someone on the brink of death. 

bit by bit, the man loosensed his grip until he eventually let go of her losing conciouosness. Ciara rushes outside panickly. The sky had opened up, pouring rain over her as she ran through the night.

She reached the Luscious Residence by eleven, drenched and exhausted. The grand estate was locked, but the sound of laughter and celebration carried through the walls. Desperate, she pounded on the door. “Open up! I need the money—my mother’s life depends on it! Please, open the door!”

No response came. Ciara’s head swam as she swayed on her feet, the rain draining her strength. She kept banging on the door, her voice growing weaker. “Please, I did what you asked—I need the money!”

Finally, the door creaked open, and hope sparked within her. But the person who appeared regarded her with disdain. Ciara knew she looked like a beggar, but she didn’t care. She rushed forward, pleading with tear-filled eyes. “I did everything you asked! Please, my mother needs the money—she’s running out of time!”

The person sneered, tossing a black-framed photo into the rain at her feet. “Your mother’s dead. You don’t need the money anymore.” With that, the door slammed shut.

“What?” Ciara froze, staring at the photo, her mother’s face staring back at her. The rain poured down, but she couldn’t move. Reality hit her like a sledgehammer, and she screamed into the night, “Mother! I was too late... I couldn’t save you...”

She hugged the photo to her chest, curling up on the wet ground, her sobs lost in the storm. After what felt like hours, she began pounding on the door again, her voice raw and desperate. “Liar! I did everything you asked! You promised to save her—give her back to me! You’ll pay for this, I swear!”

Her cries were ignored, and eventually, Ciara collapsed from exhaustion, her body giving out in the rain.

When she woke, three days had passed, and she was back in prison. She had been in the medical ward, delirious with fever. As her strength returned, she was moved back to her cell, where a group of female inmates surrounded her.

“She’s back already? Though she got bailed out,” one of them scoffed.

“Word is she got sent out as a plaything for a night,” the gang leader said, grabbing Ciara’s hair with a cruel grin. “Time to show her some real fun.”

Ciara remained silent, barely reacting as they started tearing at her clothes. Just as things were about to get worse, a stern voice rang out. “What are you doing?”

The gang leader quickly put on a fake smile. “Just checking on her, making sure she’s okay.”

The correctional officer ignored the lie, her gaze icy as she called out, “036, step forward!”

Ciara complied, her voice flat. “What now? What did I do wrong?”

“You’ve been acquitted,” the officer said, her tone blank.

Ciara blinked, disbelief washing over her. “What?”

It wasn’t until she stepped outside the prison gates that she realized it was true. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, “Mother, I couldn’t save you... but I’m coming to find you. Where are you buried?”

As she stood there, a man in a suit approached her. “Are you Miss Summers?” he asked, his tone cold. Behind him, a sleek black car idled, and inside, she could see a figure watching her from behind tinted windows.

“Yes, that’s me. Who are you?” Ciara asked, confusion and fear swirling inside her.

The man didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and spoke to the man in the car. “Young Master Samuel, it’s her.”

“Bring her to me,” the man in shades ordered.

Before she could react, Ciara was pushed into the car, seated beside the man who radiated a cold, dangerous calm. She felt as if her life hung in the balance.

“I am Samuel Fury,” he introduced himself, his voice as icy as his demeanor.

Ciara trembled, barely daring to speak. “Am I... going to be executed?”

Samuel responded without any emotion, simply saying, "No. I’m taking you to get a marriage certificate." His words lingered in Ciara's mind, filling her with confusion and disbelief. How could this be happening? 

Her thoughts flashed back to that night when she met a man who left a deep impression on her. The memory of his voice and the way he looked at her, like he could see right through her, sent chills down her spine.

“What did you just say?” Ciara asked, her voice uncertain as she tried to grasp the strange situation unfolding before her. 

Samuel's words left her with more questions than answers. 

Was this some kind of cruel joke, a product of her imagination, or a twist of fate that made no sense?

Only time will tell...