Read If I Should Die: A Kimber S. Dawn MC Novel for Free Online Page B

wishing I still had my lucky charm necklace I swiped from Jacques’ bag before tossing it in the trash in the boys’ bathroom at the park before the darkness around the edges of my consciousness finally closes in.
    I remember the cold feel of it against my hand when I’d pray.
    I always wanted a crucifix growing up. Always. They’ve always been so beautiful to me. So simple, yet significant.
    But no one has ever really taught me much about religion, besides my grandmother. My mom doesn’t believe in anything, or at least that’s what I get from her spiel about reincarnation and how the body returns to dirt ‘cause the body was from it. My sister and I were named by our grams. She taught us what she could before our mother took us from Florida when we were really young.
    I’ve read snippets of the good book. Or scriptures. That’s what Grams called them. She was more churchy than Mom pretended to be. And when I lived with Donna and Darrell, we usually only went to church on Easter. And even then, it was hit or miss. But from what I’ve gathered from the few scriptures I’ve read, I like to believe in a greater power, I think. I don’t like the idea of turning into dirt after I’m buried. I don’t like the idea of becoming worm food, not one bit. My last nagging thoughts then finally cease when my face connects with the hood of the cop car. And as I feel the good officer’s knee shove between my thighs before the metal grate of the car’s grille digs into my hip bones, the car under me tilts sideways…and then the world just goes dark.
    And it’s only my prayer I hear as the outside world spins on around me. Only my prayer, and my prayer alone…
    Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
    If I should die before I wake…   
    ***
    I was booked into New York’s Juvenile Department of Corrections when I was just two months shy of my fourteenth birthday. And that was over two fucking years ago.
    To say things have changed since then, that I’ve changed, is an understatement to say the least.
    As far as I’m concerned, on most days, it’s all fucked up now—just like Puff Daddy said.
    “O’Malley!” The relentless sliding of metal against metal is my only constant these days. It’s like everything changes here, constantly—except the bars and the cold. That shit stays the same. Always.
    The people change, the guards change, your level of freedom even changes. But not the frigid temperatures, and not the damn metal bars sliding on their tracks.
    I slip my hands between the bars for the cuffs, and only slightly hesitate when the guard waves my hands back into my cell.
    “Not needed, Juvi. Not today,” the overweight Pillsbury dough-looking boy tells me as he slides his key in the lock before turning it. “Today’s your lucky day. You’re busting out, kid. Congrats.” When the guard smiles at me, his eyes stay on my chest a little too long and I visibly shudder, even as his words finally settle in the confused thoughts and questions circling my mind.
    “Busting out?” I blankly mimic his words and step from behind the bars before they slide closed and lock loudly behind me.
    “Yes, ma’am. Busting out.” He nods then holds his arm to the side and ushers me forward.
    I aimlessly wander in front of him, waiting for any cues such as straight forward, left, or right down the long dark corridors. And when we finally come to another gate, exiting the main building, the concrete floors turn to carpet. It’s shitty and navy, but it’s still the first time I’ve seen carpet in over two years.
    “O’Malley, step this way.” I’m guided through a few halls, and once we’ve entered the third or fourth door, we enter a hallway with an elevator. After Pillsbury the dough guard smashes his big fat finger on the arrow button pointing down, a petite brunette woman steps up and smiles at me.
    The initial freak-out wears off when she quickly introduces herself. “Hey, Eve. I’m