"Inmate 4267, you have a visitor." I look up at the greasy looking officer with a serious face. He must have me confused with someone else. I haven't had a visitor the whole time I have been in here. My family reached out at first, they just wanted to know "why?" Which actually meant, they just wanted more reasons to tell everyone I had gone mad. It made them look better I guess. They didn't have to be the horrible parents that raised a woman capable of doing the things I did.
After a moment he looks up from the papers he is holding in his hand. His fingernails had dirt crusted underneath them. It looked like the collection had been there so long it had begun to dent and groove to fit the shape of his nail. "I guess you want me to mark it up as visit refusal?" He says raising his bushy black eyebrows. "No." I say raising myself off of the bench. "I will go." If there really was someone here to see me, I wanted to know who it was. Maybe it was my children... It has been so long since I last saw them.
I walk through the pods and hallways of the prison. The white hallways and rooms feel blinding sometimes. The officer leads me to a white door. On the other side are rows of glass and telephones. There are rows of orange jumpsuits on one side of the glass, and as I walk I see people in normal clothes sitting opposite of the other inmates. One woman has on a baby pink shirt. My walks slows and I can't help but stare at it. I hadn't seen any other colors besides white, orange, and blue and I missed them so much.
People think it is the big things you will miss. Like family, friends, work, or school. I don't miss any of those things. I wonder about my children; if they are doing okay, what they are beginning to look like, who they will be. However, not having all of those responsibilities was somehow better to me. Even if I was in this place forever. I got to be alone. The things I did miss though, were the small ones. I miss seeing colors splashed about everywhere I went. I miss taking baths, and pushing my head completely under the water...letting it overtake my body and relieve my stress. I miss the quiet.
The officer finally escorts me towards whoever my visitor is. He has his hand placed on my shoulder, the smell of canned meat was wafting off of them and plunging into my nostrils. I wanted to gag, but my curiosity and nervousness wouldn't let me. I will have to make sure to clean that shoulder as soon as possible. He finally stops towards the middle of the row, and I glance up to see an unfamiliar woman. She is wearing a white badge, but I cannot read it from where I am sitting. I roll my eyes, not wanting to speak to another journalist. There were dozens of them popping up to see me during the first few months after it happened. They haven't come in months since I had requested for all non-family visitations to be denied. Why did they not deny her?
She picks the phone up that is on her side of the glass, and places it to her ear. Her fingers gesture towards my phone and she mouths "please." Hesitantly, I sit down. I did not want to deal with any of this right now honestly. I am just becoming stable, and I need to keep my head together right now. My fingers brush the cold black phone, and I stare in disgust as I see she is wearing an all white and black suit. "Hello Mrs. Barlowe, it's nice to see you. I am-" "It's MISS Huxley now." The smile on her fact instantly drops, she almost looks terrified. I can't help but let out a little chuckle. I could have never imagined anyone being scared or intimidated by me. Now, it seems everyone was horrified and hanging on to every word I said with intrigue.
"Right. Sorry about that." She clears her throat, and I notice she did not make an effort to put that big cheesy smile back on her face. Instead, she looked at me with a nervous grin. "Ms. Huxley. I am Rebecca, your family hired me as a psychologist to try and help with your case." A weird prickly feeling spreads across my body. I sit there in silence wondering why they would hire a psychologist to help my case, if they wanted nothing to do with me? Was it all for their reputation, or did they actually still care for me? "I would never want you to share any personal information like this. If you agree to let me be a part of your team, we will have meetings in a different room where the laws of confidentiality will apply." She stares at me waiting for an answer, but I do not know what to say. I wouldn't mind being here forever, but the thought of getting out one day and doing all of the little things that brought me joy again was overwhelming me. "Okay, I will take you on." As these words escape my mouth, I stand to hang up the phone. "When do you want to meet?" I hear her trying to yell through the phone. "I'll be here. I'm always here." I reply back in my monotone voice. I wasn't sure if it was what I did, or the lack of emotions... but my voice never changes in tone anymore.