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“What did you think of the new book?” Officer Corel asks me as we walk down the halls towards the dining room for dinner.
It has been three years. Three long, hard years, but I’m finally coming out the other side of the hell I was living in. Officer Corel has been a major reason for that. He’s kept me afloat when I thought I would sink. He got me on the straight and narrow. He was there when my family completely abandoned me. He listened. He agreed to help me with Celia when I got out.
He made life so much easier to live.
I’m thankful every day for him.
It doesn’t help that I’m nineteen now, and very aware of how attractive and kind he is. We talk about everything, but never about his relationships. He’s completely unaware of the giant crush I have on him, of course. I mean, we’re in a damned correction center. It does give me hope for life outside these walls, though.
To experience this feeling, maybe even with him.
It’s hard to know if he’s dating or not. He doesn’t say and I’m too nervous to ask him, running the risk of it coming across wrong and creating distance between us, which would kill me right now. He’s the only thing that I wake up for, and he’s helped get me through the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. I can’t do it without him. I’m not sure I’m willing to risk that.
“I thought it was strange,” I tell him in regards to his question about the book. “I mean, I loved it and I couldn’t put it down, but it was really weird to read.”
He nods, grinning. “You’re right, it was, but I enjoyed it a lot. I have some more for you; I’ll bring them in tomorrow.”
“You’re surely going to run out of books soon. I’m the slowest reader in the world, but you’ve brought me so many over the years.”
“I have a lot of books; they’re my way to unwind after a hard day at work. Don’t worry, we’re not going to run out anytime soon.”
“Well, they should last me until I get out of here at least.”
“Yeah, they will, and if they don’t, I’ll go to the library and get you more.”
My cheeks flush as I smile. I like that he does that for me. I like that he gives me books and nobody else gets them. It’s like our little thing. We’ve never been inappropriate, nor have we ever given anyone reason to think there is something going on between us. Guards talk to prisoners all the time; Officer Corel just happens to like talking to me the most.
“What did you do over the weekend?” I ask him, as we round the corner to the dining room.
“I went on a date with Mary, actually,” he tells me.
I go quiet, purely out of shock. He’s never told me about much of his life outside these walls. Of course, I always ask him what he ate for dinner, and what he did on the weekend, and he’s usually happy to tell me the basics, but he never gets into details. Never. Not ever. So it surprises me he’s so openly told me this.
“Oh, really? That’s nice,” I say, but my stomach feels funny. It twists a little painfully. “Was it enjoyable?”
Is my voice different?
Do I sound jealous?
I sound jealous. I know I do.
“It was okay,” he tells me. “She was a little full on.”
Oh. Thank God. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure you’ll find someone soon.”
“Yeah, I’m not in any hurry.” He glances at me, and he has a strange expression on his face.
I flush and turn away, and we walk in silence for a few moments, then I say, “So, what amazing food did you eat on the weekend?”
He laughs. “You and your food.”
“Hey, we get the same meals in here, and you know how crappy they are. A girl has to dream. Come on, spill the beans.”
“I had pizza on Saturday.”
“Oh, God, what did it have on it?”
“You know . . .”
“Pepperoni and cheese!” I clap happily, making the two people in front of us turn around and look at me. I stare blankly at them until they look away. “What about Sunday?”
“Pancakes for breakfast, and then I had some steak when I went out on Sunday night.”
“I’m so jealous.” I sigh. “I think the first thing I’m going to do when I get out of here is go and eat everything in sight. I’ll probably end up so fat I can’t move, but I don’t care.”
“You’ll never be fat,” he murmurs.
My cheeks flush again. Dammit. I wish I knew why that happened.
“I’ve put in a few good reports for you, trying to see if you can get an earlier release on good behavior. I can’t promise anything, but if your lawyer looks at it, he might consider bringing it forward to the judge to relook at it.”
I look to him, eyes wide, and whisper, “You did?”
“Yeah, I did. You don’t deserve to be in here, Callie. I’ve never believed you did. Outside of a rough start, you’ve been exceptionally well-behaved, and I think you deserve to be rewarded for that. If I can get a few guards to put in reports also, we might have a chance. Of course, in the end, it comes down to the judge, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it. Oh, do I mean it.
I don’t know where I’d be without him.
I really don’t.
~*~*~*~
“IT WASN’T GRANTED,” my lawyer tells me, sitting across from me at the visitor’s table. “I’m sorry, Callie. I guess the judge felt strongly about the case. She would prefer you do your full sentence.”
My heart sinks. My body feels like it’s going to collapse in the chair.
Even though I knew this could happen, some part of me, a tiny part, hoped that maybe, just maybe, I might get out of here earlier. I know I shouldn’t have hung hope on that, but the truth is, I’d been hanging hope on it. I was dreaming of all the things I’d do, and all the time I’d get. Knowing that it isn’t going to happen feels like a knife to the heart.
“Did she give a reason why?” I ask, my voice crackly.
“No, she just denied it. We don’t really have the right to ask why. Her decision is her choice. I’m sorry. I’ll keep trying, but there isn’t much more I can do.”
I thank him with a dull and broken voice, and he leaves. I stare at the door, hoping he’ll turn around and tell me he’s just kidding. I am reminded of Celia, and all the things she missed out on. Who am I to cry about not getting out early? Maybe the judge does think I deserve to be in here for the full sentence. Maybe she’s right.
I’m escorted back to my room, and my heart feels heavy and tight in my chest. I sit on the edge of my bed, but I don’t cry. I stopped crying. I stopped letting the emotions eat away at me. I feel them, all the same, but I guess I just ran out of tears. After all, I cried for so long, I can’t possibly cry anymore.
I still dream of Celia every night.
I still think about her every day.
But she has taken all of my tears. She has taken them and they’re not coming back.
“I heard.”
I look up and see Officer Corel. He stands at the door, his arms crossed. “Sorry. I thought you had a chance. I shouldn’t have told you about it.”
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “Honestly, it is. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. I appreciate the fact that you tried, that you cared enough to try and help me. I really do.”
“It isn’t forever. You’ve come this far; you’ll make it through the rest. I know it seems like an eternity, but it isn’t. Soon enough, you’ll wonder what it felt like to be in here, because you’ll have forgotten.”
I nod, and stare down at my hands. “The lawyer said maybe the judge felt like I deserved to stay in here for what happened. He said she was passionate about the case. Is that how it’s going to be forever? Am I always going to be the girl who killed Celia Yates? Are people always going to judge me so callously?”
“Probably,” he tells me. “But it’s up to you how you choose to react and take their judgment. You can either take it in, or you can let them feel what they feel and move on with your life. In the end, you can’t make other people’s choices; you can only choose how they affect you.”
“I don’t know when you got so smart,” I say. “But it’s really annoying.”
He chuckles. “You know, I’ve been in the business a long time.”
“You should be a life coach, not a prison guard.”
“You’re probably right. Chin up, Callie. Just think—you get to put up with me a little longer, and I have plenty of books for you to read.”
I look up at him, and I smile.
“There are worse things in the world,” he points out.
He’s right; there are worse things in the world.
If spending the next few years in here with him as my friend is what I have to endure, then so be it.
I’ve come this far with him.
I might as well see it through.