jailbird ☍ cth

☍ four

Words couldn't explain how I felt.

It was a normal day. I woke up to go to the kitchen like usual at the crack of dawn, making sure not to wake Tyler up since he got cranky when I was too loud in the mornings. I desperately needed a shower, so I made my way towards the showers with Manny the security officer close behind.

Later that evening, I was working in the workshop with some other guys that I had never even spoken to, when one of the more stern security guards came in. He spoke my name and I looked up, and our overseer ushered me out. Things moved so fast and it sounded like the guard was speaking at a dozen words per second and I tried to keep up but he was walking and talking and his words overwhelmed me that I had to stop.

"What?" I asked, and he smiled.

"You're out, Hood. Your clothes are on your bed, as well as a bag for you to put your stuff in. Pack your shit and go see your resource officer, and he'll tell you what to do."

My emotions got the best of me as my vision clouded. I wanted to fucking hug this guy. I nodded frantically, not shuffling my feet and pressing my lips together to hold in the absolutely ecstatic shout I wanted to make. In my cell, Tyler was reading a book, and I grabbed my clothes. He stood up to tug me into an embrace, and I hugged back so tightly I thought he'd burst. I stripped out of the uniform they made us where and changed back into my beloved tee that I'd had since high school, originally belonging to Luke but I stole it for the sake of wanting it. And then my skinny jeans - oh, my skinny jeans!

I piled whatever I'd collected, including the picture of Amelie with zero smudges on it into the bag and carried it over to Casey Benjamin's office. He raised his eyebrows upon seeing me and I smiled giddily.

"Today's the day, lucky boy," he cheered with a condescending tone, and even his sarcasm couldn't rain on my parade. "Fill out this paperwork for me, and get ready for a mouthful because you have half a million regulations for being released. Do you have a solid place to stay that can and will be under a constant surveil?"

I nodded. "Yeah, with my fiancé, and if not then my best mate Luke."

"Write both addresses down if you know them and when you're escorted there, you'll be asked which one is correct," Casey said and I nodded, and began filling out the paperwork. "The parole board discussed your case rather thoroughly, and it concerns me that there was so much conflict upon the outcome. In the end, they decided that you may be released today and granted parole, which leads me to introducing you to your new best friend."

He rifled through his desk drawer for a second before pulling out something that made me squeeze the pen in my hand.

"Your new ankle bracelet. Keeps you in the government's control while looking absolutely fabulous," Casey Benjamin said and I actually let out a laugh, because at the time, that was the most beautiful tracking device I'd ever seen. It was also the only tracking device I'd ever seen. "Are you done? I've gotta' tell you all your fun rules."

I finished up filling out the last of the papers in my possession before sitting back in my chair and clasping my fingers together. My full attention was on the man who'd helped me a lot throughout my sentence as I awaited my inevitable chokehold of a framework. He opened up a book and licked his finger before he found a certain page and began naming off the rules.

"It's pretty self explanatory. Obey all the laws, if you perform even a misdemeanor you could be subject to a return. You'll often have to report to your parole officer, who I haven't met and I don't even know the name of, where you're going if you decide to go somewhere. If you decide you wanna' go across the continent for whatever reason, you must obtain permission and it'd probably be a super complicated process, so I wouldn't recommend any road trips 'til your parole is over. You are going to be searched and seized randomly, without probable cause. Don't go drinking heavily and for Pete's sake, don't get high. I'm sure the tolerance on alcohol will be much stronger than any kind of drug. Don't step one foot near that Daniel guy, Hood. Not within fifty yards. Don't go near him or his family or his house. If you see him on the street, turn around."