Chapter 8 - The Restraining Order & The Final Mask
On Friday afternoon, Carmen’s high-priced criminal defense attorney—paid for with a retainer she had secretly put down using my emergency credit card before it was canceled—managed to secure an emergency bail reduction hearing.
Because of her age and lack of prior felony convictions on paper, the presiding judge granted bail at $250,000, which Aunt Evelyn and Marcus collectively posted by taking out a predatory second mortgage on Evelyn’s home in Baltimore.
They thought they had won.
They thought that getting Carmen out of the Maricopa County Fourth Avenue Jail meant she was going to walk back into her comfortable life, mount a defense, and browbeat me into an out-of-court settlement.
At four-thirty that afternoon, I was at our old apartment on North Central Avenue with a private moving crew. We were packing up all of Jessica’s and Olivia’s belongings, boxing up their clothes, toys, and memories so we could leave this cursed place forever.
Suddenly, the front door swung wide open.
Carmen walked in.
She looked disheveled—her scarlet dress had been replaced by a cheap gray sweat suit provided by the county jail, her dyed silver hair was matted, and her face was lined with deep, venomous exhaustion. Standing right behind her was my brother Marcus, carrying her designer luggage, looking around the apartment like an angry guard dog.
“Get these movers out of my house!” Carmen bellowed, her voice echoing through the half-packed living room.
The two burly movers stopped in their tracks, looking over at me. I calmly signaled for them to take a break in the hallway.
“You have five minutes to grab your personal clothes and get out, Zayden,” Marcus spat, stepping forward to chest-bump me. “Mom has squatter’s rights here. She’s lived here for over a year. You can’t just kick her out on the street. Her lawyer said this is her primary residence until a formal eviction is filed!”
Carmen smirked. It was that same hideous, triumphant smirk she had worn at the head of the dining table while Olivia was burning.
“Did you think you could destroy me, Zayden?” Carmen purred, crossing her arms over her chest, stepping toward me with venomous confidence. “I am your mother. You cannot erase me. This apartment is my home. You will continue to pay the rent, you will continue to pay my allowance, and if you ever want to see your daughter again without a court-ordered supervisor breathing down your neck, you will drop these absurd criminal charges. I built you, boy. I can tear you down just as easily.”
I stood perfectly still. I didn't yell. I didn't flinch.
I simply reached into my suit jacket, pulled out a thick, blue-backed legal document, and extended it toward her.
“What is this garbage?” she snapped.
“That is an emergency order of protection signed three hours ago by Superior Court Judge Kathleen Hammond,” I said clearly.
From the guest bedroom doorway, Arthur Vance stepped out, accompanied by two uniformed Phoenix police officers who had been waiting quietly inside.
Marcus took an involuntary step back, his face draining of color.
“Mrs. Ferris,” Vance said, his voice dripping with icy authority. “Under the terms of this order, you are legally prohibited from coming within one thousand feet of Zayden Ferris, Jessica Ferris, and Olivia Ferris. You are also barred from entering this residence, as the lease has been legally terminated by the property owner, and the premises have been declared an active crime scene by the Maricopa County Prosecutor.”
Carmen’s eyes bulged. “You terminated the lease?!”
“I bought out the remainder of the lease this morning,” I said calmly. “The apartment is vacated. Everything belonging to you has already been packed into twenty cardboard boxes and placed in a secure storage unit on 7th Street. Here is the key. You have thirty days of paid rent on the unit before the contents are auctioned off.”
“You can’t do this!” Carmen shrieked, lunging toward me with her claw-like nails outstretched. “You ungrateful dog! I will kill you! I will burn your life to the ground!”
The two police officers didn't hesitate. They lunged forward, grabbed Carmen by her shoulders, spun her around, and slammed her chest-first against the hallway wall.
*Clack! Clack!*
For the second time in seventy-two hours, steel handcuffs snapped around her wrists.
“Carmen Ferris, you are in direct violation of a Class 3 felony protection order,” the officer announced, wrenching her arms upward. “Bail is officially revoked.”
“Marcus! Help me! Call Evelyn!” Carmen screamed, kicking wildly against the baseboards, her face contorted into a mask of pure, demonic rage. “Marcus, hit him! Kill him!”
Marcus stood frozen in the center of the foyer, utterly paralyzed with shame and terror. He looked at our mother—writhing, spitting, cursing in the grip of the officers—and then he looked at me.
For the first time in his life, the veil was ripped from his eyes. He saw Carmen for what she truly was: a monster consumed by her own venom.
“Zay…” Marcus whispered, his voice trembling, tears welling in his eyes. “I… I didn't know. I swear to God, I didn't know she was like this…”
“You chose your side, Marcus,” I said coldly, walking past him toward the door. “You posted bail for the woman who burned your five-year-old niece. You and Evelyn can pay off that second mortgage on your own. Do not ever contact my family again.”
May you like
As the officers dragged Carmen out into the corridor toward the freight elevator, her vile screams echoing off the concrete walls, I walked out of the building into the brilliant Arizona sunshine, leaving the nightmare behind me forever.
***
