The Crash

By Katherine Parks

21 year old Alex Casey hits a turning point in her life when she gets into a fatal car accident and is sentenced to prison. It's Alex against the world. Her prison stay is filled with laughter, sadness, and friendship. Then, she ends up meeting a woman with a dark secret who has her eye on her. Will they last, or will the secret break them apart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katherine Parks
• Release date: Feb 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215517666

Book preview

Chapter 1

I sit up slowly and try to look around, tunnel vision clouding my sight. I can hear ringing in my ears and some kind of static. An eerie fog envelopes me as I struggle to breathe. It feels like I've been hit in the chest with a baseball bat.

I gasp as I take one big breath, my lungs rebelling against me. Blood drips down my nose as I clutch my head to try to ease the pounding.

What the hell happened? I think to myself. I must have hit a curb or something. My head pounds, making me sick. I don't think I have ever felt this terrible in my whole life.

Faintly, I can see the flashing of blue and red lights in the rearview mirror. Is that a police car? Then I see it, a flashlight in my side view mirror, accompanied by a hazy man in an officer's uniform. I roll down my window.

Are you okay, ma'am? He asks with genuine concern in his hoarse voice.

Yes, I think so. I tell him. Why is he so concerned? It's not like I got in a serious accident or anything.

Do you need medical attention?

No, seriously. I say. "I'm completely fine, just really confused.

A pit in my stomach forms as I realize I'm going to be going to jail.

I'm a bartender, and it was someone's birthday today, so we all had a couple of drinks. I wasn't going to at first, but everyone kept pressuring me, so I finally gave in.

Now that I think about it, I don't even remember driving. I must be more of a lightweight than I thought. I'm so dumb. Why did I have to listen to them?

I feel nauseous. I'm going to get a DUI. My mom is going to be so pissed. Gran is going to be so disappointed. Hopefully, this all blows over quickly.

I step out of the vehicle and turn around, the cold metal of the handcuffs digging into my wrists as they click. He walks me to the police car, and I sit down on the seat, hot from the engine.  It's eerily quiet from the back seat. There are no sounds aside from the occasional update over the radio, and I can't see anything but complete darkness outside the window.

The whole ride drags. I can't stop thinking about what I'm going to tell Mom and Gran. They're going to be so upset with me. And I don't even want to think about my boss. I'm probably going to lose my job.

I've been helping my mom with rent and utility bills since Gran moved in. Mom has dropped some of her hours so she could take care of her, so I've had to step up. What is this going to mean for them?

* * *

We get to the station, and I have one phone call. I punch my mom's number into the cold metal buttons, listening to the sound of dialing before hearing her voice.

Mom, I'm going to jail. I was drinking and driving, and I know I'm getting charged with a DUI. I promise I will be home soon. I say confidently.

Are you okay, honey? She asks, concern clouding her voice.

Yes, Mom. I'm okay. How is Gran doing?

I'm so worried about her. The thought of causing so much pain makes me sick to my stomach. The last thing I wanted to do was get taken away from her when she needs me the most.

She's doing okay. Please don't worry about her. I have everything covered.

Mom really isn't as convincing as she thinks she is. I know everyone is making plans for when Gran passes. She's getting worse every day that goes by.

I have to get off now. Everything will be fine here.

I have no idea if everything is going to be fine, but the last thing I need is my mom worrying about me. She has enough going on.

Okay, Sweetie. Call back when you can.

I hang up the phone and sit down in the frayed chair in the corner of the room. An officer sits across from me. He looks at me very intently as if he has something important to say.

You are being charged with one count of vehicular homicide.

My stomach drops, and tears stream down my face. I had no idea. I don't remember anything that happened aside from waking up in my stopped car. How can this be happening? I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket.

The room spins as I struggle to wrap my head around what he just told me. I had no idea it was that bad. I swear, I thought I just bumped into something.

My whole life flashes before my eyes as I think about everything I'm going to lose. My mom, my gran, and my dog, Banjo. Who's going to take care of them?

I cry into my sleeves as I rest my head on my hands. The room starts to fade away, and I'm stuck in a hurricane of my own despair.

* * *

For the next four hours, I sit in a holding cell, cold and alone. The cement benches are so uncomfortable. I can't sit still. The cell is filled with other women, definitely at their worst.

I feel like a stranger in this place. I don't fit in. I live in a good neighborhood with a loving family, and I've never even touched drugs. I've never gone to public school or even been in a fight. This isn't me. I'm not a convict.

Some of the women are sleeping to pass time, and some are throwing up from drug withdraw. Some are like me, starting into the void trying to process everything.

The air is thick with depression and hopelessness. Everyone looks a bit lost, mentally. I guess that's to be expected when you're in a place like this. Do I look like that, too?

There is a metal toilet with a sink attached to the top. There are no walls or anything. There isn't even a curtain. I have to pee so bad, but there's no way I'm doing it in front of all these women. I end up holding it the rest of the time, my legs squeezed together as tight as I can.

I curl up in a ball, thighs to chest, resting my face knees to chest. I follow some of the other girls and try to sleep the way through the grueling hours. There is literally nothing to do to pass the time, so it's either sleep or stay awake and stare at the wall for God knows how long.

* * *

The guard comes back, and I sigh with relief, knowing I'm finally getting out of this god-awful cell.

He walks me to an office where I end up having to answer a ton of questions while a really rude woman types away on her computer.

I really need to get home. I tell her. My grandmother is really old, and she needs me. My mom and I are the ones who take care of her.

I hear things like that all the time. She says. "It's not going to happen. You're just going to have to deal with being stuck here for a while.

I put my head down, a tear dripping down my cheek. She doesn't understand. Any one of these days could be Gran's last. Her memory has been really bad lately, and she's slowly deteriorating right before my very eyes.

I don't know what lies ahead of me, and I'm not sure I even want to try to fathom it. I’ve lost everything. This is my life now.

* * *

The guard comes back, escorting me to a small room where a male inmate stands in a booth behind a small widow with a narrow slot at the bottom.

I look around and see shelves stacked with tan pants and shirts, all the way to the ceiling. Black Velcro shoes line another wall. I'm assuming this is what I'm going to have to wear. I miss my real clothes already.

The officer escorting me urges me forward, and the inmate behind the booth hands me my uniform. It's a painful reminder of who I am now.

He looks at me with questioning eyes, full of confusion. You don't look like you should be in prison.

Well, look again. I snap. I'm in no mood for small talk. My life is changing on a dime, and I'm literally at my lowest point right now. I could care less what some con has to say to me.

I grab the uniform with a huff and turn back towards the officer.

I'm taken to a giant grey room, tucked behind a large pane of glass. There are two tiers with a white bar on the top level. The walls are lined with metal doors with tiny windows, encasements of women who have made the biggest mistake of their lives.

As I walk through the threshold, I feel dozens of eyes on me, a fresh piece of meat. They don't look particularly friendly, but I guess I wouldn't be either if I had been stuck in here this long. I'm sure it has a way of changing people.

The officer leads me to my room and instructs me to take the top bunk. I follow his orders and heave my heavy bag of blankets and hygiene items onto the thin, plastic mattress.

No one else is assigned here, so thankfully, I won't have a bunkie. The last thing I want to do is be forced to live with someone else I don't even know. With my luck, I would be paired up with a thief or someone with an assault charge.

He leaves the room, shutting the metal door behind him with a click.

I lay there for what seems like hours, time standing still. My mind is blank, and my body feels completely numb. I cover myself up with my itchy wool blanket and stare at the wall, crying like a child. The tears fall harder and harder.

Chapter 2

My door buzzes open, startling me awake. I climb off my bunk, put on my black Velcro shoes, and peak out of the doorway. Inmates are gathering on the first tier, forming a line in front of the door to the main hallway.

A large metal cart sits blocking the way out as a woman in a hair net hands out trays one by one. I'm assuming this is breakfast. I'm starving, but I've seen prison food on TV, and it barely looks edible.

I make my way down the steps and place myself at the end of the line, all eyes on me. I try to avoid any direct eye contact. I really don't want anyone saying anything to me. I don't know any of these women, and for all I know, they could have done something worse, or I guess I should say, intentional.

Slowly, everyone inches forward, waiting for their breakfast.

When I get to the front of the line, the cafeteria worker in a hair net hands me my tray. I look down to see a hard, square pancake and some awful-looking grits. I grimace as I slowly turn around, trying not to spill anything. That's the last thing I need.

I sit at a table by myself, hoping and praying that no one else will join me. But just my luck, a girl with caramel colored skin sits down next to me and grins as she puts her arm around me. I shudder as I cringe backward.

So, do you like girls? She says with a smirk.

What kind of question is that? I literally don’t even know you. What an inappropriate thing to bring up.

That's none of your business. I snap harshly. Who does she think she is? I'm not here to get a girlfriend. I'm here to serve my time and get the hell home if that ever happens.

Another girl with a light complexion and long hair sashays to the table. Her eyes twinkle as she lets out a high-pitched giggle. I already know I don’t like her.

Don't mind her. She's always looking for her new flavor of the week. My name is Amber, by the way. She cocks her head at me, studying my expression.

You’ve never been to jail before, have you? She asks.

Seriously? Do I look like I’ve been here before?

No. I say. And I don’t plan on it being a career.

The first girl rolls her eyes at Amber and throws her a playful punch. I'm Tee.

I have to admit, she's cute, but like I said, not here for a girlfriend. Not to mention the fact that she made a terrible first impression. I don't even know if I like girls. I've never been with one before. It doesn't matter, anyway. I have other priorities, like trying to forgive myself for taking someone’s life.

Alex. I tell them flatly.

I look down at my food, my stomach turning. The grits have chunks in them, like they weren't even stirred. The pancake is dry even with the large coating of crystallized syrup. I think I’m going to be sick.

I try to eat as fast as I can before taking my tray back to the metal cart.

I spot a television and carve a path through the other inmates to avoid as much interaction as possible. I've had enough for one day.

These girls think it's a joke being in here. They are oblivious to the fact that they are in jail. This isn't a fucking game. We really fucked up and it’s time for us to sit back and figure out what ultimately landed us in here so we can fix it and never come back again.

The TV is a small one, the same as Gran has in her room. She always refused to upgrade to the flat screens. I still don’t understand why. I’ve done my fair share of persuading to no avail.

An old episode of Friends is on, thankfully something I can actually watch. It’s been forever since I’ve seen this show. Mom and I used to binge-watch it all the time on the weekends. I kind of miss that.

I plant myself into a cold folding chair and try to zone out on the show. It works until a guard barks my name and instructs me to come to him at once.

What could he possibly want? I think to myself. I literally haven't even had time to get in trouble even if I planned to.

I walk over to stand in front of the officer, starting up into his harsh, hairy face.

Your bond has been posted. Time to go. He says without a hint of emotion in his voice. His eyes are a deep