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even dared to step up, but my main bitch Dee had lost her life trying to save mine. It depressed me to no end because Todd was trying to kill me, not Dee. She was innocent in all of this.
    I had lain in my cell three days, refusing to leave for yard, chow, shower, nothing. It was all my fault that Dee was dead. I kept picturing her face and all of the things she had done for me while I was locked up. I could’ve never imagined that she would’ve given up her own life for me, though.
    The depression had hit me so bad that the prison psych came by to speak to me and even that soft-spoken, mousy-faced bitch couldn’t get me to utter a word. She kept whispering my name and asking me if I was okay or if I thought I needed to see a doctor. What the fuck did she think? Dee was like my little protégée and my family. I didn’t know what I was going to do without her, because the rest of the bitches in my so-called crew wasn’t about shit. I hadn’t said two words to those weak-ass bitches since I had been back and I had something special in mind for each one of them too. Them bitches all stood around while I was literally getting the shit kicked out of me and they ain’t do shit.
    When it was all said and done, I had landed in the infirmary with three broken ribs, a small fracture in my skull, two or three subdural hematomas, both eyes swollen shut, six missing teeth in the front, a broken nose, a broken collar bone, two busted knee caps, a shattered ankle, and five broken fingers on my right hand. I heard I had pissed and shitted on myself during the beat-down and blood had leaked from my pussy too. I probably could never have babies again. It was really a wonder that I was still alive. Even the doctors and nurses in the infirmary couldn’t believe that I had made such a miraculous recovery. I chalked it up to God wanting me to get my revenge . . . or else why would I have made it through that beat-down alive. Especially now that I walked with a limp and one of my eyes never opened back all the way. Yeah, I was all messed up and I refused to look in a mirror to see just how ugly I had become. I could feel the raised scars still on my neck and left cheek—remnants of the slicing I had taken from those Latinas. I felt like the hunchback of Notre Dame when I was going through physical therapy to learn how to walk all over again. It was apparent without even looking in the mirror that I was not the same flawless Shannon as when I had arrived. Whoever made up that saying beauty is in the eye of the beholder was full of shit. Either your ass was beautiful or you wasn’t. I would never be considered beautiful again and that was final. I was used to being drop-dead gorgeous and getting what I wanted because of it. That’s how I had snagged Todd in the first place . . .

    â€œI never seen nobody as gorgeous as you, ma,” Todd said, sidling up next to me at the skating rink where everybody hung out on Saturdays. I didn’t look or smile at him; instead, I rolled my eyes at his corny-ass game. I was so used to niggas pushing up on me with whack game that I had already formulated a plan to dismiss them. I was that stuck up.
    â€œOh, it’s like that? A’ight, ma, you got it. I just wanted to let you know that your face is flawless,” Todd had continued. I sucked my teeth, ready to say something smart to his ass. That was until I turned all the way around and noticed the huge diamond-encrusted Jesus piece dangling from his neck, his iced-out Rolex, and the crispest pair of white Gucci sneakers I had ever seen. I couldn’t even look in his face because I was already feeling ashamed of myself by just what he wore. Dollar signs rang in my head and right away I felt inadequate. Finally, I shyly looked up at him with my heart racing a mile a minute. I was screaming his name in my head because I couldn’t believe he even took the time out to say something to me. Shit,