This is the story of my tragic downfall. More specifically, why it ended. Not by choice, of course. It was taken from me. Let me start at the beginning. At the tender age of seventeen, I was framed for a murder I did not commit. Have thick skin when you go to prison. Everything you thought you knew about cruelty is wrong. You haven't seen cruelty yet. Prison isn't for the fainthearted. Some women are more brutal than others. Keep to yourself and you're straight. I wish I'd known all of this at the beginning, but I'm not even sure how I ended up here. Prison life isn't the most sanitary here. The walls are moldy and wet. The ground black as coal. We hardly get new uniforms. Some women like to sabotage the laundry. That's when we really get new uniforms. Our cells are four cold, wet walls with a toilet that looks like they have not done a mop on the floors in years. All we get is a slab of steel with the lumpiest pillow and thinnest sheet. Oh, and a mattress pad, like that's going to do us any good. Half the time I freeze to death in this place. This place reeks of vagina and mold.

I start out doing the same shit every morning. I wake up at six am and have breakfast for only 30 minutes, of course. After breakfast, I go to work. Literally. I do all the inmates' laundry and bed sheets. We make very little money. Only fifteen dollars a month. Sometimes we cannot even afford feminine hygiene products if our families don't give us any money, which I have none. They serve lunch at twelve pm, then we go back to work until three pm. After work, we're allowed to do our own thing. Obviously no violence. For women, we're tame. Unless you're a violent woman, then you get the night in solitary. That alone is enough to drive the most sane person insane. Five pm it's dinnertime. We don't have to be back in our cells until eight pm. It's nice to have amenities like a gym and a library. We have lives, just less freedom and a little harsh punishment, hence solitary confinement. There are two groups of women. The first group is the women who get away with anything because they have the corrections officers wrapped around their fingers. The second group is the outcasts, the ones all the other women pick on. I don't fall into either category. I don't like conflict but I also won't let anyone pick on me. Other inmates beat you every day and the officers here won't care. You're on your own here. You can make a couple of friends but they'll switch on you in a minute if they even think they'll get out early.

It was nearing seven pm, when the warden came to the library. When I heard the door open, I looked up from my book, raising my eyebrows. I sat my book down, standing up slowly.

"What can I do for you today, sir?" I knew he was here for me. I'm the only one who uses the library. The library is sacred ground in the prison. They do not permit fights in the library. Solitary confinement for a month.

"Violet—grunting—I have good news," rolling his eyes. "You're getting an early release. On exemplary behavior, of course. You'll have a meeting with the parole board tomorrow after breakfast."

"Yes, sir." I said politely. He gave me one last glance with a smirk as he closed the door behind him, not before brushing his hand against mine on his way out. I hate that man. The warden can get a little touchy, if you catch my drift. Of course you couldn't tell anyone, though. No one would believe an inmate in for murder.

I don't know why I'm here. I have no memory. Trying to maintain that innocence in court with no memory is hard. Just look where I'm at. My trial lasted months. There was little evidence, everything circumstantial. The police didn't do their job by not testing me for gunshot residue, but the odds were still against me being convicted and sentenced with the possibility of parole. Spending the rest of the evening in the library, I couldn't help but ponder 'how am I going to piece my life back together. I've spent ten years of my life here. I'm twenty-seven now. How do I go back to civilization with people who don't want to kill me daily? ' Closing my book in a fit of frustration, I stood up, heading to my cell. Everywhere I turn, I'm always being watched. I can never turn my back for too long or some women will get violent with you. The corrections officer never helps the inmates. If you so much as snitch to a guard, you'll get your ass pounded into a pulp. Never look some women in the eye for too long. And never let them throw the first punch. They'll never leave you alone if you don't. Here's a little tip, wear long Johns. It's easier to carry a shank on you to defend yourself against the others who will also have one. The guards know we have shanks, but you learn to hide them well in your cell so they cannot catch us with it until the deed is done. You'll get solitary, but they'll know not to fuck with you.

I left the library, going back to my cell, since it was time for us to turn in for the night. I get on my bunk, trying to quiet my mind enough to get some rest. It wasn't until the lights went out at eleven pm, was I finally able to get some rest.

After breakfast, I went straight to the parole room where all the parole meetings take place. I knocked on the door, hearing,

"Come in," A masculine voice rang on the other side. I turned the knob, pushing the door open. A man with a balding hairline and a gray mustache sat behind a table with another man to his right. The other man had sandy blonde hair with a sharp jawline and full lips, with blue eyes. In front of them both were my criminal record and court documents. An entire file on me.

"Good morning, Violet, I'm sure you already know why you're here." He took a pause, taking a sip of his stale water. He gestured to the man sitting next to him. "This is officer Cliff Calderon, he will be your probation officer. You are to stay in inmate government section housing, meaning you are to stay in an apartment building with other parolees. You must take a drug test every 7 days, which will be random.

"We will not permit you outside past ten pm. You may not leave until seven am. You will have court ordered therapy once a week. You must maintain a job which will be provided to you. We work with companies that hire criminals. You must check in with your parole officer once a day. The matter of how Malicious the crime is determines how hard the conditions are."

"I understand, sir." I sat down in the chair, crossing my ankles together, resting my elbow on the armrest and my fist under my chin.

"I will release you tomorrow. Officer Calderon will escort you to your new living facility. Failure to comply with these regulations, your parole will be revoked and you'll serve out the rest of your sentence back in prison. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir," I nodded my head, standing up from the chair.

"Alright, we're done here."

I went back to my duties for the last time, being in this hellhole. I shouldn't have been here to begin with. The last ten years have really turned me into a person I do not want to be. I'm always looking over my shoulder, waiting for one of the other inmates to shank me. Which has happened before. I got them back. It was worth the solitary confinement. You learn quickly to stick up for yourself. Because if you don't, you'll be six feet under, if you know what I mean.

It was eleven am when the warden came down to collect me from my cell. Officer Calderon was waiting outside to take me to the halfway house. I'm nervous but excited to move on with my life. I'll be able to make some decent money and finally be able to afford some decent tampons. Buy me some real clothes.

"Well, Violet, I wish you luck on your semi-gained freedom." He reached his hand out for a handshake. I gave him one in return.

"Thank you, sir."

He pulled me towards him with my hand still in his. "Just between you and me—sniffs my hair — you were my favorite." He moaned in my ear.

I yanked myself away. "I will not miss you, prick." He makes my skin crawl. I walked down the blue mile and all the women were cheering and shouting. One woman, Georgina, was bad-mouthing me.

"You're lucky you're leaving Stokes. You wouldn't have lasted much longer here."

"Piss off Georgina. Karma always bites you in the ass, you'll get what's coming to you. Bully."

"Good Riddance Violet" I put my middle finger up at her behind my back, walking away. When I walked out of the building, officer Calderon was waiting for me.

"Hello, Violet,"

"Sir,"

"Call me Cliff. Alright, get in" he opened the door, getting in the driver's seat. I put my bags in the backseat before getting in the passenger seat. The interior of the car was spotless and simple.

"I'm going to go over the rules again, random drug test every week, no leaving past or before curfew, and you must check in once a day. Here—reaches into a pocket, pulls out phone—take this, it has my number on the speed dial. Call me if you ever need me, day or night."

"Got it." Twenty minutes later, we were pulling into the government apartment housing for parolees. It's your average looking apartment. I grabbed my things from the back seat, walking inside going upstairs. We stopped in front of a door, number thirty-six.

"Before I knock on the door, I expect you to be ready to go to work tomorrow morning at eight am. Meet me downstairs." I nodded in acknowledgement.

"You'll have a roommate. Her name is Regina. She's around the same age as you. I hope you two will get along together. I do not do transfers, so you have to get along" He glanced at me, smiling. He knocked on the door. A few short seconds later, a tall, white girl with brown hair and hazel eyes answered the door.

"Sup Cliff," she paused, looking over at me, "Who's this?"

"Regina, this is your new roommate, Violet. I'm sure you two will get along fine. Behave yourselves and I'll see you in the morning Violet." He waved his hand in a shrugging off motion as he was walking to the elevator.

She gave me a small smile, stepping aside and gesturing inside. She has freckles peppering her nose and cheekbones, she's pretty.

"Welcome" I gave a small appreciation of thank you to her before walking inside. The inside looked pretty homie. Walking inside, I noticed Regina's book collection sitting on a bookcase next to the couch. I love to read, it's one of my favorite pastimes. I think this girl and I will get along just fine.

"Hey, I'm Regina," She smiled.

"I'm Violet, but please call me Vi. I love your book collection."

"Thank you, you're welcome to read them as long as you return them." Regina walked over to a door on the far right, opening the door.

"This is your room" I had plain, white, bare walls, a brown dingy carpet and a single tiny closet, the bed on the far left wall and one window next to it. It was perfect considering what I had before. More than what I had before, actually. All I had was a cell with a steel slab for a bed, toilet and a sink, and that was it. I had to share showers with other inmates. Two or three of us would shower in separate shower stalls. Ten minutes was all we got to shower, like that's enough time.

"How long have you been here?" I asked her.

"Been on probation for two years. That's how long I've been here." She turned around and looked at me. "I'm usually a chill person, so I'm going to give you some ground rules. Number one, don't wear my clothes. Number two, don't eat my food. If you can do those two things, we'll get along great." Oh, I can already tell we'll be best friends.

"Okay, so long as you don't use my toothbrush," Regina laughed, walking out the door. I sat my only bag down on the bed.

"So since we're going to be living together, forgive me for asking, but why are you here?" I asked carefully as I walked out into the living room. I don't want to offend her, since I'm going to be here for a while. That would be bad.

"Grand theft. Why are you here?"

"I'm going to be honest, murder, but I can't remember anything," I shrugged.

"What do you mean, you can't remember?" That's the response I always get. Honestly, it sounds like I'm making excuses, but I genuinely don't remember. I think I was roofed.

"Exactly that. I cannot remember. I was talking with an old friend and the next thing I knew, I was being arrested for murder. I don't know what happened." My boyfriend's murder. It was hard not breaking down in court, trying to maintain my innocence. Ian held my heart. I would never kill him. We were going to have a baby together until the stress of court and being in jail caused me to lose my baby. I know they frowned at teen mothers, but Ian was excited and so was I. But that's the past now and I need to move on.

"Damn girl." I nodded in response to her. Life has dealt me a shitty hand since I've been born. Putting my life back together is going to take time and hopefully I'll get out of here soon so I can really start living. I want to conquer the world. I'm already twenty-seven, I have time to have kids but I'm not sure I want to bring them into this fucked up situation I'm in. Look what happened last time. Maybe fate was trying to tell me something then. I just need to move on.