Page 27 of Fight or Flight
Remembering to keep my head down, I walk close by, praying that no one will start anything just as I’m about to head out.
You constantly hear those stories, and it’s what kept me up through the night. The dread of an inmate starting a fight, a crooked guard pulling some shit just because he can, or just a jealous guy causing trouble, so you’re unable to get out in time.
If you miss the release date, you have to wait for the protocol to start anew, and I can’t imagine the disappointment I would have to face if I didn’t make it outside today.
It’s been three years, two months, and ten days, and I don’t intend on spending any more time than necessary here.
Fortunately, we made it out of the cell block without any disturbances, besides some menacing words and slurs thrown from all sides, but I didn’t even hear it. The buzzing in my ears stops any coherent sound from getting to me.
When we enter the prison warden's office, I am told to strip before the whole bend and cough derogatory procedure takes place. The same one I had to go through when I was being admitted all those years ago and a few times after my mom visited me. I want to ask the three guys that circle around me why do I have to do that shit if I’m getting out, but I’m so scared, thinking that even a wrong look from me would mean I’m being sent back in. So, all I do is stare at my toes and wait for this nightmare to be over.
After signing a ton of papers, my personal belongings from the time I was first admitted are provided to me in a zip-lock bag, and I want to laugh for some reason. I wouldn’t even recognize these things as mine after all this time.
A black generic-looking wallet, a cell phone with a broken screen, clothes that surely won’t fit me anymore, what’s with me gaining some muscle, and a heavily creased photograph of me and a girl who years ago grabbed my heart and never let go of it.
A girl who was already lost to me from the first time our roads crossed. I knew it back then but was stupidly hoping that somehow I could still change the inevitable if the stupid lovesick look on my face is anything to go by. I thought I could distort the past with just the power of my want for her.
But it didn’t happen. And now, I’m here.
Starting over. Without the girl, without family, friends, work, or pretty much anything that I could have had at the age of twenty-two, if I hadn't been so fucking stupid.
For a small second, I battle with the ridiculous thought of smacking the guard standing in front of me just so they could lock me up again and throw away the key. The fear of facing what’s waiting outside is so strong.
But of course, I stopped this weird impulse immediately, the need to get out of this place overpowering everything else.
Another man comes into the room, this one dressed in a nice suit and lifts his chin at his colleagues in a silent question.
“He’s good to go,” one of the meaner guards chirps and then slaps me on the shoulder with enough force to make me wince but not enough to make me lose balance if that’s what the jerk was hoping to happen.
The other guy gives him a nod and then, in an official voice, addresses me directly.
“Aidan Linden, you are getting released, but it is my duty right now to remind you that you are still undergoing your sentence until it expires. While on your parole, you are to contribute to the community as your parole officer deems appropriate. If at any time you break the law requirements for your release, you will return to this correctional penitentiary to continue the rest of your sentence. Today, after getting transported from the facility, you will meet with your parole officer to discuss the details. Do you understand?”
Shit, it’s really happening, I’m getting out. I can feel a small drop of sweat collecting at my nape before it slowly travels down between my shoulder blades. My mouth turns dry, and I can barely manage to say yes, my voice sounding alien to my own ears, but the warden nods quickly and claps his hands.
“Right. Officer Simmons, please escort Mr. Linden to the exit,” then the older man pins me with a look as if ordering me to behave and leaves the room.
The guy who slapped my back shoves me not so gently toward another door, this one bigger, as if he wants to relish in his last minutes when he can overpower me.
Like a docile child, I hang my head low and go, trying to control my heavy breathing. I ignore every other sound, focusing fully on the tiles of each corridor the asshole is pushing me through as I squeeze my belongings to my chest.
I count each step I’m taking, and when I’m at a hundred and twenty, the fresh air hits my face. I look up at the sunny sky in wonder.
Yeah, we were allowed to walk around the prison yard every day for a limited time, but somehow, it’s different from there. Gray, sad, and cold.
Now, I close my eyes, trying to soak in the warm rays, smiling for the first time in... in three fucking years. I almost fall to my knees, wanting to bawl like a baby, but snap out of it when the guard reminds me of his presence.
He jabs his meaty finger toward a giant parking lot. “Wait there with other fuck-ups.” And then looks at me with a cruel gleam in his eye. “Till next time, princess.”
Despite knowing better, I can’t stop myself from snapping at him. “There won’t be a next time.”
Right away, I start to stiffen, thinking I just blew everything, and he’s going to take me back through the door I just came out of.
But surprisingly, the guy just laughs. “Yeah, like I haven't heard that one before.”
After serving me one last mocking glare, he turns and slams the door after him.
Right away, I do as I’m told, worried that they are probably watching me, and march in the pointed direction. When I get closer, I’m surprised to notice a small bench next to a bus stop post, with two guys already sharing the narrow space and two other guys standing separately, each of them wearing the same mask of confusion, relief, and fear I’m probably presenting right now too. I step close but leave a safe distance, giving them all a slow nod.