꧁ Cʀᴏᴏᴋs: Bᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ʙʏ Bʟᴏᴏᴅ ꧂

5. A Nᴇᴡ Bᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ

*𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘: 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗰𝘀/𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗰 𝗱𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗶𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀*

April 1977, Manhattan NY

It's finally happening: I am getting released from prison.

I don't know exactly all that happened to get to this point. I think it's called... uhm, pole? Pal-uh-role? Oh...  parole! That's the word. They never really explained to me why specifically I was being released. It's been, I think, eight years, and they're just now deciding to release me? It was all so confusing. I'm just glad that I get to go home. Maybe they realized I'm innocent? Who knows, but I still ask myself this to this day:

Who really killed my dad?

As soon as I step out of the doors of this place, I'm going to find out the answers to that question. That's going to be my goal.

If only my cellmate Stephanie were here to see me being released now. After her death, life in this hell hole has gotten progressively worse. Not that it wasn't already bad, but at least I had somebody to support and protect me. We would talk about our lives before prison almost every night, but now I could only talk to myself and the walls. I just imagined that she was here next to me, or looking down at me and wishing me good luck for my future. I smiled at the thought.

I woke up early, preparing myself for the big day. The officers gave me my new clothes my mom sent me that I'd be wearing home- a striped, long sleeved shirt with some jeans. They were slightly small, but it wasn't too tight. It's not like my mom, who hasn't seen or visited me since my sentence, would know my size.

They walked me to the front office desk, and made me sign all kinds of weird papers. How many times did I need to confirm that I was, in fact, Cynthia Quinn for crying out loud? I'm right here. After endless amounts of paperwork and checks, all I had to do was wait to be picked up. And after about an hour, I heard my mom coming through the front doors, feet away from my holding cell.

Something was very different about her. I know it's been a long time, but I didn't think she would be nearly unrecognizable. But, next thing I know, I'm being handed off with all of my belongings to the woman I was reluctant to call my mother.

As we made our way outside,  suddenly everything felt complete. That first deep breath of fresh clean air felt therapeutic, soothing. Seeing cars passing by and the nature outdoors for the first time in eight years took off a weight I've been carrying on my shoulders for so long. Although life would be very different now, considering I missed out on proper education, and there were many things I needed to relearn, the feeling of freedom was pure bliss.

But as we got in the car, my focus switched to the woman next to me. There was an awkward silence between us, like she still held a grudge against me. I don't blame her, but the silence was so loud that it almost forced one of us to say something. Thankfully, she spoke first.

"Well, it's nice to have you back Cynthia."

I could tell by her tone of voice that she didn't truly mean that. It was more of just an icebreaker than anything. But, at least she bothered to say something.

"Yeah, it feels great being free again. There's so much I've missed, so much to look forward to, but... what happened to you? You changed something."

We stopped in the typical New York City traffic and she glared at me over her shoulder.