Scarlett hadn’t asked me to take the blame in a long time, so I was shocked when she did this time, especially for something so serious. I didn’t even know who she had killed. The trial was a blur of accusations and pleas and before I knew it, I was sentenced. Three years later, Simon kept his promise.
Somehow, he managed to reduce the murder charge to attempted murder and I was out in just three years. I still couldn’t understand why it had to be me. No one came to pick me up when I was released, so I wandered back to my tiny house alone, dazed and uncertain about what was next.
The city felt alien, its streets both familiar and changed. My tiny house, the one beacon of stability in my life, stood waiting for me. Fortunately, I had saved enough money to buy the house after graduation; if I had been renting, the landlord would not have wanted to lease to an ex-con like me.
My parents had died long ago and I finished college with no one to rely on, so my little house was all I had to get by. Simon transferred the money he promised and Scarlett, along with her parents, did the same. Seeing the increasing zeros in my bank balance, I laughed, then cried, feeling hypocritical as I wiped my tears and forced a smile. For the first time, I realized how hard it was to genuinely laugh.
Then my phone rang. It was Simon. “Zara, I’m sorry I didn’t pick you up today. Scarlett caught a cold.”
I nodded, feeling sullen. “Simon, the contract has expired.”
There was a long silence on the other end, so long that I lost patience. Now I didn’t have much patience for Simon anymore. Finally, he said, “Can I pay more and renew the contract?”
“Pay it first, or I won’t consider renewing the contract,” I replied. Simon lightly agreed and hung up. Shortly after, the money came through, ten times more than the original amount and I didn’t plan on returning the extra.
I didn’t think Simon or Scarlett owed me anything; they paid for my three years, but it felt like a forced sale. Honestly, those years were awfully taken from me, so I accepted the “after-sales service.” The money was supposed to buy my silence, but it only fueled my resolve to seek justice.