Reclaim

Aslan

                                         Aslan
                       Georgia
            12/19/26
Coming to this country was a great idea, perfect idea, such a perfect idea, in fact that I ended up hating it.

My family ended up moving around to cheaper and cheaper neighborhoods just to reach the quota we were given, and with every school and every group of friends I lost, I got more and more bitter, why make friends when they'll be gone next month? Soon, I got labeled "Aslan the loner who kinda looks like a girl." From every school I'd go to.

My bad english mixed with my long hair covering my face didn't make the comments let up. Occasionally, I'd get called "cute" or "metal," but it was usually just insults like "emo" and "loser." Moving so much was maddening, and the amount of fights I nearly got into made being lanky not worth it anymore.

I started ripping my arms until they were busted and burly. It may have taken most of my free time and a lot of willpower, but the comments definitely let up. Although not enough to prevent a fight that would change things for the worst.

11th grade, I met this girl who liked talking to me a lot. She wasn't the first, but the fact she went through the trouble of talking to me any time she could was nice. I didn't want a relationship because I knew how it would end, but she made me take a chance. She really made my world feel a lot better, like things weren't that tough anymore, and of course, that was too good.

Some kid who I never bothered to learn the name of thought it would be funny to mess with her. He was twice my size, but every time he did, I felt worms burning under my skin.

It was one day that I wasn't in a good mood that he pushed me to my limit, something I thought had been broken too many times before to matter to me. I can't even remember what happened. It was all a blur of red, but when I came back to my senses, two teachers were pushing me to the ground with my arms behind my back. I'll never forget how drenched my fists felt and how much they throbbed. I remember tons of kids screaming at the fight, gathering around with phones ready to record, but I don't remember hearing him yell. Whatever might have happened, I hoped it would never happen again.

Too bad it was a lot worse than I thought. They put me in the back of a police car and took me to a holding cell. Everything after was an anxiety soup of police station phones beeping, conversations of cases, and that red clock ticking louder than was necessary, just to rub in my face how long I'd be there.

After a couple of hours of staring at my bloody hands, I refused to wash, and I got approached by an officer.
He told me I'd be serving time because apparently, the kid had a seizure.
I was scared, not for me, or him, but for anybody who was dumb enough to push me too far.

I didn't even care that the next three years of my life would be spent in an Instigate prison, at least I could do something productive for the next three years that didn't involve paying attention to some chicken scratch on a white board I wouldn't have any reason learning about.

There was a lot of moving around, going to cells, and getting ready for a court date I'd be ready to vouch guilty for, but none of that really stuck with me as much as visitation day did.

I sat on that squeaky rusty metal chair and stared into plexiglass, separating me from freedom. The voices of husbands to wife's, boyfriends to girlfriends, fathers to kids, and friends to friends filled the room, a constant reminder that I was sitting here alone with a corded phone like it's a solo cup with string, all by myself. I had one phone call, and I used it to call my parents, who put me to voicemail.

I told them that I wanted to see them one last time before I'm gone for three years and that I still loved them and needed them right now.
Too bad I stayed in that chair for half an hour before the only person who cared to come came. Not my dad, or my mom, but my uncle.

Walking in here with a smile on his face and a black jacket, making him look like the Turkish Korean Bruce Lee. He sat down and picked the phone up, bringing it closer to his face.

"Aslan! How's my fighter doin'?"
Just the type of confidence I needed right now, we could be burying a dead body, and he'd still say, "Aslan, how've you been? Where do we start digging?"
"I'm good, Jun... mom and dad didn't come?"

He just scoffed and waved his hand away as if it were typical of them.
"Work today, they called me about it though, thought you killed someone, had my heart goin for a good minute, you didn't kill anyone right?"

I had to think about it. Surely I didn't kill him with just my fists, right? I'm not that strong. He noticed my silence immediately, and his smile faded into a concerned look.

"Jesus." He whispered, leaning back in his chair.

"I don't think I hurt him too bad, honest."
"Aslan, Aslan, Aslan, what did you do?"

It sucked that my favorite relative was disappointed in my stupidity, but it could've been worse, my dad would probably be yelling by now, and my mom might just walk out as she found out, at least Jun cared enough to hear me out.

I told him what happened, and at first he just stared at the table, lost with those sad eyes. He finally picked himself up and pursed his lips before looking back up at me.

"Aslan... I don't know what to do, but maybe this isn't over yet, we might be able to find a way to lighten your sentence or get rid of it entirely."
He sounded serious.

"Uncle, it's alright, I don't care."
Now he looked offended that I didn't try to encourage him.

"Aslan, it's three years. What about your future?"

I just shrugged at a loss for words upon hearing myself.
"I could go full Instigate."

He stared at me for a good minute before slamming the phone down and nearly getting up to leave. The bang of the table made my heart race, and seeing him so angry was terrifying.
He took a breath and then picked the phone back up.

"You're not going out like most of our family did... you hear me? Be the change. You're not the first to be put in the system, but don't let that put you in the Instigate without so much as a fight."

I couldn't come up with anything to say back, I felt at a loss for words. I tried to speak but couldn't. All I could do was stare at my hand, drenched in sweat, on the table.

"Your parents love you, we all do, we'll find a way Aslan, stay safe."
He put the phone down, and when I looked up, he was gone.

We'll find a way, Aslan.

Eight months later, there still wasn't a court date. I got used to the place, made sure people knew who I was, and rarely ever had problems, but still, there was never a court date.

I missed summer, Halloween, and Thanksgiving, and next up was Christmas in a week. Worst of all, though, is that I missed my birthday just yesterday. I forgot It was even coming up, and I only found out I was 18 when an officer came up to my cell and told me I'd be moving from Juvy to Prison in the morning.

Waking up knowing I was going to a prison full of real adult criminals was rough. They opened me and two other guy's cells and walked us to the prison bus. The two other kids were my age, which meant they had their birthdays earlier in the month and were waiting for mine to legally take us all to the prison.

I didn't really talk to too many people, but I vaguely knew one of them. Puerto Rican guy who was friends with a big fella who almost killed me. He convinced him not to, the reason being I was too tough to kill, they needed someone to help keep the newbies in check, and I was built perfectly for that job.

We didn't talk much, but we respected each other enough not to go to each others throats. Him and the other guy were sat behind me, and I sat next to a guy from another prison being transferred. He just stared grimacing at the seat in front of him. I was smart enough to know not to bother him.

We made one last stop at a police station to pick up two other guys apparently involved in a riot, then set off for our new future.

I can admit I was scared, but I wasn't gonna let being scared leave me shaking, I was gonna be strong. Then again, what other choice did I have?