CHAPTER 5

Unexpected 

And before Mary could get started, the guard curtly cut us off, "Time's over. You gotta go." Mary turned to me with an apologetic yet determined look. A look in her eyes said something I couldn't quite define but made me feel even more miserable. "Goodbye, Isabella," she uttered softly, her words now soft-soothed-and a gentle good-bye amid my storm. She'd turn and be gone; now this figure retreated slowly from my view. I watched her go, last fluttering flame in the dark, until her form was lost. How final the glimpse of her departure was. I was the lone wolf again, with the world weighing on my shoulders. The guard clutched my arm tightly and started pulling me toward my cell. The steps were miles as my heart was focused on the weight of what Mary had just told me. I hardly noticed the handling; my mind was racing with the storm churning inside, the recent days, and the import of Mary's revelation. Her words entered my mind, like splinters being driven deep. Flung back finally into that small, dark cell, I threw myself on the hard bed; the chill, suppressive silence of the prison walls closed in around me. My mind seemed a maelstrom-a cacophony of confusion and despair. I glared into the bleak ceiling, trying to puzzle the fragmented narrative that had brought me to this juncture. The revelations by Mary were overwhelming; it was a bitter draught to the end to consider that corruption could teach its limbs down into the darkest nooks and crannies of the structure of justice. I knew full well the state of my situation was going so far beyond the things that I actually could see, but having that far-reaching conspiracy confirmed was almost too much to bear. The thought that big people had pulled strings to keep me confined made the walls of this cell tighter. I clenched my fists in an attempt to steady my racing thoughts. "I couldn't even kill a fly, let alone a human being," I muttered to myself with an unbelievably tense tone of my voice, an accurate reflection of the utter impossibility of the accusations against me. Labelled a murderer, that was just out of this world it was something so unreal. A nightmare currently being experienced, but I sure wouldn't wake up from a horror show of definite proportions now being played in the darkest corners of my life. The accusation was insurmountable. The accusations of infidelity and murder, all put together, weighed a ton. I had never done anything in my life that was remotely this bad, and now I was caught in some waking nightmare in which truth had contorted itself inside out. I tried piecing together how I'd come to be sitting here in prison. It was a night I remembered all too well, one unravelled in some sort of swell of confusion and terror. The day following was to bring back my husband Maxon from what was probably the most awaited business trip. The reason behind me hanging on every day since he had left me was to be with him again. That night, I had ordered a glass of juice, my simple pleasure in a world otherwise bereft of comfort. But what I hadn't known was that the juice was poisoned. The minute I took one sip, the world around me began to blur. Next, the darkness swallowed me, and I fainted. I'd woken up to find myself in one hell of a situation: lying naked in bed next to a man who wasn't one I knew. My heartbeat began racing instantly as I turned to look at the man beside me. It was quite a shocking instance to utter anything since realization hit me like a gut punch when I saw my husband standing there: Maxon. I couldn't even begin to wrap my head around what was going on. The only thing I could recall was the taste of that wretched juice. The discombulation in Maxon's eyes was real as he stared at me, his face a mask of utter incredulity. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice shaking with anger and betrayal. I didn't even have time to speak because the door swung open, and a person came in to utter words that would destroy my soul. Maxon's sister had been found dead. The accusation was instantaneous and heartless. Not only an adulteress but also a murderer of Maxon's sister. The world got uninhibited, and my life was accusations and misconceptions running one after another. The trial that followed was a sham, a farcical display of justice if ever there was one. Yet, the pieces did not quite fit, and I had been thrown into a role that I didn't understand of guilt and treason, valued at my very life. Lying in that cold bed, the memories of that fateful night replayed themselves through my mind-so much confusion, fear, and helplessness that was overwhelming. How could one who was never even capable of causing harm be accused of such atrocities? The weight of those thoughts was all but intolerable. In an instant, the guard reappeared and dragged me from my reverie. Indifferent, his face a mask, the cruelty of the job was only part of his routine. "You have a visitor," he growled. Automatically, my heart leapt into my throat. A visitor was both a godsend and a death sentence. The prospect of seeing someone, anyone, was comfort to me, but all that guesswork on exactly who would be coming started to stress me out. I trailed after the guard as he led me down one of the thinner hallways, my mind racing over all the possibilities. The moment I sat in that visitation room, Maxon stood before me.