But then again, Ariel didn’t suppose jail was intended to be comfortable. She looked around again, noted the small basin-toilet combination and then let her eyes drift to the bars that separated her from her daughter and her husband and her life. She still could barely believe that she was here. Matilda had been goading her for years, and she’d finally lost control. Too bad it was in the worst possible way and at the worst possible time. She was going to lose her daughter, and it was all her fault. If she had just managed to keep it together, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. Yet here she was. And she had no one to blame except herself. Not even Matilda, really. Ariel had long ago acknowledged the dysfunction, had known that things were going to turn critical at some point, and sooner rather than later. But it had always seemed smarter not to provoke that inevitable outcome. She scoffed. Smart. Look where that had gotten her. She tried to keep her maudlin thoughts at bay, but it was difficult.
