Code Green , ᶜᵃʳᵐᵉⁿ ˢᵃⁿᵈᶦᵉᵍᵒ

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Shock was written all over my face. The guard grabbed me by the arm and started to pull me out the door.

I can't explain how relieved I was to finally be out of that tiny cell.

Sure, they had times where it was incorporated into that shitty schedule at which the inmates would be watched in the courtyard for a bit, but it was never enough time to soak in all the sunshine and breath the natural air- or at the very least, air that was less contaminated and claustrophobically created in our constricted cell space.

I inhaled deeply, coughing a little at the car fumes curling into my lungs but appreciating the air nonetheless. I was out. I thought I would have to serve the rest of my three year sentence- if I had, I couldn't imagine the state I'd be in then.

But already, a year was enough to change quite some things about myself and my values, as well as I had reconsidered how I viewed the world.

Jail inmates were most definitely unfortunate- at least the ones who had received this sort of jail sentence in such a place.

I know not all are like the experience I had, yet I couldn't foster a connection between the word 'safe' and 'jail.'

I had been on the brink of starvation many times when the irresponsible guards had seemed to lack the memory that I was a living, breathing person and needed to eat.

"Here are your parole officers." The guard waved me off, letting go of my arm and stalking off.

I was standing at the curb, a long black limousine parked neatly there. Two lanky but rather slouchy formed men sat inside. A single door slid open for me and I cautiously climbed inside, immediately my eyes were locked on the VILE sign embedded in the cushion lying on the seat for me to find.

They would never leave clues for people to see, as it was a shadowy organization nobody was supposed to know even existed.

But I suppose they wanted to confirm it was them. So now, after rotting for so long in that hellhole, they finally decided to bust me out.

Looks like they recollected the fact that a good operative of theirs was locked up and abandoned on a mission.

Sure, I hadn't originally been placed on it. But I was a good agent nonetheless.

They lost a talented student and allowed the jail to lock her up, for an incoming sentence of a whopping three years.

I'm only seventeen, too, so maybe they would have considered the fact that they let a minor framed as an expert adult criminal, get thrown in the slammer.

I decided not to stew on my anger and sat down, buckling up.

The two VILE janitors sat in the front of the limo, behind the layer of plexiglass that separated us.

They flicked the wheel and the doors closed, the wheels shifting under the car frame and rolling us out onto the road.

Letting go of my breath, I whisper to myself, "Here we go again."