A torrent of corruption rises once again, but she’d have to dive in willingly. There’s always a choice to be made. She must carefully count the cost. Desperation is a powerful plight often birthed through the love of another. It’s a terrifying vulnerability to let someone in.

The evil we entertain always changes us, always alters the very fibers of our being, though it can remain unnoticed for a time. We all see what we want to see. At some point, there’s simply no going back.

Her own identity has been marred by the stain of compromised morals. It creeps along like poisonous tendrils quickly spreading beneath the surface of her skin. Justifications can’t save her from the things she’s done, no matter how compelling her reasons.

Whose classification of right and wrong is unchallengeable? Whose judgement is unquestionable, and how do you make someone genuinely accept them as truth? Is it an impossible task for the souls of the lost? God only knows, and even then some don't believe.

Despite her efforts, she could never truly break the hedonistic addictions of another. We make our own decisions. Hers have unintentionally allowed him defense against any hope for rehabilitation. He'd have to want it for himself. He'd have to wholeheartedly welcome the unbribled agony that must accompany such a sacrifice.

And the clock's always ticking. There’s a fine line between helping and enabling. These lines blur more deeply each time she gives in. It’s hard to love someone you’ve grown to very nearly hate - to let go of who you know they couldve been.

How do you save a man who exults in his crookedness - someone who clings to it like a life preserver - someone whose perception is so skewed that they refuse to see reason? He runs back to his ruination every time and embraces it as he would a lover.

To abandon him would surly mean his death. To allow that must be unforgivable.

Imagine a first-time Father, sitting in a hospital room, holding His innocent baby boy. The doctor begins, taking needle after needle, pressing them painfully into the boy's tiny limbs. The child is scared, crying, confused, and suffering. Why is the Father permitting such a traumatic and agonizing experience when He could put a stop to it at any time?

But the Father is also struggling. He looks away to allow what He knows must happen in order to make things better in the long run, even though it’s so hard to watch the one He loves so much endure such suffering. But He never left. The Father held on the entire time.

He's still holding on, even when we don't know it.

Believing a lie doesn't make it any closer to the truth.

Love isn't something that can be created or forced. It either exists or it doesn't. It can be entirely one-sided.

There may be no lie more cruel than to pretend to love someone.

He doesn't deserve a single thought in your beautiful mind.

Never has anyone made her doubt so greatly yet believe so completely in their love.

Then she remembered who she is. She remembered her strength and her independence and the fact that she doesn’t need anyone else.

There is unspeakable strength in surrender. She will yield to the truth.

So when the fire burns out, she will be all that remains - no longer who she used to be, but something new.

Something stronger.

Something refined and beautiful.

“Miss Hawkins,” the judge says, “Would you like to take a fifteen minute break and continue after that? I believe it’s vital that this information be disclosed in order to have a comprehensive idea of what actually took place. That way the jury can make a fully informed decision, and I may then offer the most fair sentencing.” I only know that he said I have to tell them what happened then, and it’s not going to be any easier if I do it later.

“May I just… try to get it over with then?” I ask.

“Of course,” he says. “Whenever you’re ready.” I need to just say it and be done, just get through this. I feel like I might throw up again. The whole room is staring at me, waiting for me to tell them about how my life ended, about how I lost everything I’ve ever cared about. I don’t know them, and they don’t like me. I don’t want to tell them. I don’t want to tell anyone. I don’t want it to be real. I look around anxiously and find a spot on the floor. It’s stupid, I know, but I think maybe I can tell the floor what happened. The floor has already caught so many of my tears, so maybe I can do it. I know I have to try. I clear my throat and force myself to begin. I close my eyes and let it all play out again. It’s like releasing a door I’ve been fighting to close for so long.

“Pops was screaming my name when he got out of the car. He dragged Daniel out of the backseat and threw him down . . . He was taped up and crying. There was blood, but it didn’t look like he was hurt. He was scared and so was I. I tried to yell at Pops, but my throat was messed up. I told him to let him go and tried to get to Daniel. Pops punched me in the face and I fell to the ground. Daniel was… he was trying to get loose… to help me.” My chest heaves, and the weight of it all seems like it might be too much. “Pops told me it’s my fault. He… he told me he killed Daniel’s family because of me,” then I have to take another minute. I hate myself. It was my fault. One tissue left. I just have to tell the floor the rest and then I can leave. I have to get it out of me so I can be done. The room is so quiet. I can almost believe that I’m alone in here if I don’t look away from the spot, there in front of me. I keep going once I am able again. I breathe and swallow down the bile I taste.

“I tried to push him down…Pops, so I could help Daniel… but he moved and pulled his knife out. I stopped… I… I cried and begged him… I could barely talk then, but.... I begged him to let Daniel go,” and a sob escapes. I hate this. I deserve this. “He took the knife…” I can’t say it. I have to say it. I close my eyes again. “He… he looked right at me… while he drug it… across his neck.” I gag. I don’t know if anyone can even tell what I’m saying, but I don’t care. The floor wouldn’t care. “I ran to him… Pops threw the knife in the pond and walked away.” I feel my own shaking hand cover my throat as I try to breathe and keep going. “I held him… and covered his neck with my hand, but it didn’t help. There was too much. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save him. I took the tape off of his mouth. The blood… he was so scared.”

Then I feel it coming. I know there’s nothing I can do to stop it now. I cover my mouth with the back of my hand that’s full of soggy tissues, stand, and gather my hair as I look around desperately. The cop that’s always in the courtroom looks worried and steps forward, but thankfully the female officer that brought me here must understand. She comes running from the corner of the room just then with a trashcan. I run to meet her and collapse to the floor as I vomit what little I had left in my stomach out into the trashcan. Someone brings me a glass of water, and I thank them. I sit there for a moment, with one hand on the floor, while I sip the water and the bile down, listening to quiet whispers throughout the crowd. Then when I can, I say what happened next. Everyone gets quiet again so they can hear, but I talk only to the floor. It seems a little easier now that I’ve said most of the worst part. Saying it out loud makes it real. I wish it wasn’t. I wish it was all just a bad dream.

“Pops left me there. I held Daniel for a long time. He stopped moving and stopped breathing. I tried to wake him up, but he was gone. It was like a body from the business with the face of the boy I loved. After a while, I made myself get up. I went to the shed and got out the shovel. It started to rain but I kept digging. I dug for so long, my hands blistered and bled. I hurt all over, but I didn’t care. I pulled him over to the hole I dug next to where we buried my baby sister.” I have to take another second. I close my eyes and try to remember him smiling, like he was in that picture, instead of the way he was then. All of my tissues are soaked through now. I release my hand and drop them into the trashcan. “I kissed him one more time,” my other hand finds my lips, “and he was gone.” I take a few deep breaths.

“I took two pieces of wood and nailed them together, like we did for my sister before Pops threw it out. I pounded it into the ground, then I climbed down into the hole. I pulled him.... I pulled him into the hole with me. I laid there next to him, with my head on his chest, in the shallow, muddy rainwater, wishing I could die too. I wished that Momma hadn’t stopped him and Pops had killed me before.

The water slowly kept getting higher and higher around us. I thought I’d just stay there and hoped that it would keep going until it covered us. I’d just breathe it in and be done with it all. Then I heard him, my youngest brother, calling my name. He can’t say some sounds right, so he calls me Tallie. It was so late then, but he always came to me in the night whenever he had a bad dream. He’s the reason I made myself climb up out of that hole. I put Bub back to bed then went out and filled in the hole. I buried Daniel there alone so I could take care of my brothers. The law showed up later, and you know the rest.” I sit there then, with nothing else I think I should have to tell the floor. I feel empty and raw, like I just gave up the last bit of myself.

The Business is a contemporary fiction NA novel (73,563 words) by Ceadra Adley (31, BA in psychology). Callie Hawkins just wanted to be free from her abusive father, but not like this. As the red and blue lights flash, she is torn from everyone she's ever known. Incarcerated and hated for her part in thebusiness, Callie must relive her trauma in the presence of an angry mob at trial. Though she is granted leniency, no one involved with that many murders can be set free. Callie finds herself seeking healing, hope, and a chance at normalcy in a breeding-ground for just the opposite - TheGreenway State Hospital. In the face of persistent adversity, if she fails to overcome the anger and hatred that is encoded within her very makeup, she'll never get out. If she succeeds, she'll have to try and take back her life amongst a world that won't forget. 

I love God, my dog, and my amazing family. I live in Indiana, play volleyball, write fiction, and work in a correctional facility. Thank you for this opportunity.