Chapter 226
Freya’s arm was still wounded, and every time her arms were restrained, the pain was excruciating. She wondered if Kieran had deliberately arranged things to make her suffer. Freya found herself incarcerated in the most notorious women’s cell block. The inmates here hadn’t been convicted yet, but they were as good as sentenced to death or life imprisonment. Clearly, this was no place for her. Freya knew it was unfair, but all she could do was bide her time.
A chunky, middle-aged woman spotted Freya as she entered and deliberately sidled up to her. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Dawson family’s little princess? Quite the looker, aren’t you?” The inmate’s hand casually caressed Freya’s face; the greasy touch made Freya’s stomach churn. She recoiled in disgust, snapping, “Back off!” Before she could finish, a sharp slap landed on her face. The slap rang in Freya’s ears.
“Think you’re still Ms. Dawson? Dream on! You’ve crossed the wrong people, and they can easily make you rot in here!” Another inmate chimed in menacingly, “Recognize your situation and save yourself some trouble!”
At that, Freya burst into laughter, loud and clear. The other inmates were taken aback. Never had they seen someone laugh after being struck! “You’re all without a future, crossing me… you should be wary.” Freya’s lips curled into a smirk. “After all… someone can get me out of here, but no one’s coming for you.”
Hearing Freya’s bold words, an inmate scoffed, “Delusional till the end! We’ll see how tough you are!” A few inmates exchanged glances, quickly moving to restrain Freya’s limbs. Freya’s arm, already injured, was gripped tightly, turning her face pale with pain as beads of sweat formed on her forehead. One of the inmates grabbed Freya’s lustrous black hair, demanding, “Are you gonna confess, or what?”
Enduring the pain, Freya gave the inmate a scornful smile, stating, “You… are not qualified to judge me.” “Not talking?” The inmate pressed on Freya’s wound, reopening the dried blood to bleed anew. Freya knew these tactics were common in prison. Kieran had bribed these people to force her confession. But she wouldn’t break. The more they pressed, the broader Freya’s smile grew, as if she felt no pain. Seeing this, an inmate yelled, “Beat her!” Two restrained Freya’s arms while another began to pummel her abdomen and stomach.
The guard stationed outside seemed oblivious to the commotion within. “How long are we gonna beat her if she doesn’t talk?” one asked. “What else? You want your sentence reduced, don’t you? Keep going!” The lead bully approached Freya, now slumped against the wall. The floor was smeared with thick blood; Freya’s arm was covered in it, blood even trickling from her mouth. “I’ve heard Ms. Dawson’s hands can play the piano. What if they’re ruined? How will you seduce men then?”
Freya looked on as the inmate stepped on her bruised arm. With a grimace full of malice, she ground her foot down and snapped, “Speak up or don’t!” Amidst the searing pain spreading through her body, Freya initially winced but forced herself to laugh loudly. The tormentors wanted her tears, but she offered laughter instead. In time. She awaited the day these people would regret their actions.