When one person makes an accusation, check to be sure he himself is not the guilty one. Sometimes it is those whose case is weak who make the most clamor"-Piers Anthony
"STOKES" C.O Anderson shouted across the court yard. I paused my hand midair, turning my head to the call of my name. Anderson is a tall and stocky man. He can definitely hold his own in a fight. He manages to break the inmates up with little to no help. The tone of his voice, sounded like the scolding of a young child. Anderson walked over to me, pushing my tray aside. He seemed particularly abrasive today. His dark brown eyes held an beep hatred behind them, making his emotions known. That's the first mistake C.Os make in this place. Once you show emotion to the other inmates, they will use that to their advantage in here.
"Come with me now" he barked, moisture landing on my cheek.
Wiping his spit from my cheek, I retaliated. "Of course a girl can't finish eating I presume?" I reached over and finished taking a bite of my food.
"Hurry up" Anderson snapped, his eyebrow twitching in irritation. I rolled my eyes and rose to my feet to be taken to my destination.
I was being escorted to some unknown location within the prison when a fight broke out. The light brown haired guard, gripped Barbara like a vise.
"You're nothing Barb. You never have been and never will be." The guard tilted his head back with a laugh. Barbra had steam coming out of her ears by the time he looked at her. Barbra broke out of her guard's hand, grabbing his baton and beating him with it. Some women in here like Barbra like to stay here, because it's the only life they've ever known.
They have nothing else to lose. No families who love them. No friends who would help rehabilitate them. The other women in here have families to get back to so they keep mostly to themselves in hope of making early release. I've wasted fifteen years in this place, not too much longer and I can kiss this place goodbye.
Fifteen years spent doing tedious chores around the prison for a couple bucks at best. Hardly anything to feed yourself with, or buy feminine care products. Some women have family to load money to their spending account. I don't have that luxury. My parents abandoned me when I was small child. No siblings, as I'm an only child. Because of those facts, I have to work chores in the prison to earn money to eat. How the hell am I supposed to get by with only making that small amount of chump change? But I made it work, I'm surviving like I always do.
"SOUND THE ALARM" Warden Hughs bellowed from 20 feet away, pulling me from my thoughts. Anderson tightened his hold on me, pushing me into any available cell until the situation is under control. The cell I was pushed into, the walls are moldy and wet. It's part of the original prison. The remodel has been underway for about two years now. We're at the tail end of the remodel but it's a slow progress.
"You've really done it this time Barb" the guard grabbed her arm, shoving her forward. Barbra was sent off to solitary, while the other guards apprehend the other inmates and putting them in cells.
I could hear water dripping from the wall, tuning out the grunts from the inmates and COs. I walked over to the bed and laid down, closing my eyes. I began to realize that the life I was living in wasn't exactly what I wanted. My life changed so much in the blink of an eye. I made one bad mistake that cost me everything. The sound of buzzing and the door opening drew me from my thoughts.
"Wake the hell up Stokes, it's time for your parole meeting." Co Anderson firmly grasp my arm, dragging me from the cell.
"What's got your panties up your ass Anderson" The insult flies from my lips before I have a chance to stop it. His fist grew tighter around my arm. The guards tend to get offended easily. It's a game to me, seeing how far I can push them. I've been in here a long time. This is the life I've only ever known. Growing up in foster care didn't set a good example in life for me. I got mixed up with the crowd. I trusted some people I shouldn't have and I'm still paying the price.
"Violet Stokes sir" Anderson announced, walking into the large crisp, white room. This is definitely part of the remodel. Not a thing was out of place. Everything nice and tidy. Warden Hughes moved from the table that was against the farthest wall in the room. Anderson released my arm, nudging me forwards.
"Hello Violet" Warden paused, gesturing to the chair for me to sit before continuing. "I'm sure you're aware this is your parole meeting. It's common practice in many states to have victims present. The parole board believes it's an important perspective to have. We have notified the victims family and have not received a response so we will be proceeding with this parole meeting." He paused, grabbing his drink and taking a sip of water. Hearing the gulp of water as he swallowed was like nails on a chalk board ringing in my ears. I balled a fist, whist cocking my head to the side to keep from lashing out at the noise.
"Before we begin proceedings I want to remind you to be respectful as the families of the victims may be in attendance today." I walk over to the smaller table set a few feet away from the larger one. I take a seat, noting the people sitting next to the warden. A tall, stocky man sat on his right, wearing a bored expression. Like he had somewhere better to be. On his left was a slim middle aged man with greying hair at his temples. His tie was done in a Windsor knot. His pristine suite gave off the vibe of entitlement.
A women sat in a tiny desk off to the left side of the room, taking notes on a laptop. She looked rather tired as she sat trying not to face plant into the desk. A loud clearing of a throat had my attention snapping forward. The warden stood there, looking pointedly at me.
"Now then, Ms. Stokes. You are permitted to make your case." pausing Warden Hughes, began flipping through a manila folder. He peering intently into the folder, struggling with his pen to write a simple line on the paper. Just one look at him and you can tell there's something wrong with him.
"We have already reviewed your file. We also have a detailed file on you, provided by the courts. We would like you to state why you feel you should be released back into civilization." He placed his fist on his chin, pointing his sharp jaw in my direction.
I was nervous. What was I supposed to say? I can't say I'm sorry for committing a murder I have no recollection of doing. Nor was I going to tell them that I did it. I was proven guilty on circumstantial evidence at best. Things also didn't help that the person who was murdered was the son of the police chief. Someone whom I shared a past with.
Breathing in deeply, "At seventeen I thought I was invincible. Being young and naive I got mixed up in with the wrong crowd. I was spiraling out of control and fast. I was being introduced to illegal drugs and alcohol, things I had no business getting acquainted with. I've definitely made some mistakes that I can't take back. But as I've been serving my sentence, I realize that there's more to life than drugs and alcohol. I've learned to move past those things and be better for myself. I want to do right by the mistakes I have made. I want to prove to myself that I can be who I've always been meant to be." I reached over to the pitcher of water, pouring some into the glass sitting nearby. I needed some refreshing water after that performance. I gulped down the water, swallowing the lump that had appeared moments before.
"Well then Ms. Stokes it appears you have been an outstanding inmate. Finished your high school degree and teaching other inmates to read. You have done a fine job in rehabilitating yourself." Warden praised. "We will be taking your case into review. If you will excuse us for a few minutes while we make a decision." He stood up, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor sounded like nails on a chalk board to my ears. It gave me an instant headache.
Everyone exited the room and I was alone. I never expected to get parole yet, I had been here such a long time that I didn't think I'd ever get out. I mean I knew I'd get out eventually, I just thought it'd be after I served all of my sentence, all my appeals had turned sour every time. I couldn't get anyone to see that I was innocent. My claims rested on deaf ears. I gave up hope after five years in, I was looking at fifteen more years at that point. My time here began to wear me down over time. I sleep with one eye open every night. These women will turn on you in an instant. It's a brutal I've never known. For one thing, I'll be damned if I ever end up back here.
The door opened twenty minutes later, the warden and everyone shuffling in and taking their seats. Clearing his throat the warden began to speak.
"Violet, we have reached our decision. We believe that you would do great in rehabilitating yourself back into civilization. There will be conditions to your parole. You will meet with your parole officer once a week for a random drug test. Your meetings will not be scheduled I.e the random drug tests. Parole officer Cliffs will call you with a time the day of the meeting. If you violate any of these terms or the terms of your officer then you shall spend the rest of your sentence incarcerated. Any questions Ms. Stokes?"
I shook my head "no sir, I understand the terms." They were simple and reasonable terms. I could comply with this.
"You will be released tomorrow into the custody of your parole officer. You may return back to your cell." Warden gave a dismissive hand to Anderson. I rose to my feet and before I could take a step away, Anderson had a firm grasp of my upper arm. He doesn't miss a beat, since the first time he let his guard down with an inmate and almost lost an eye; even has a battle scar above his eyebrow to prove it. Never let your guard down. Ever.
"Let's go Stokes"Anderson barked. He dragged me over to the door, with some force as I was tripping over my feet to keep up.
"Why don't you lighten up a little Anderson, did someone piss in your Cherie-o's this morning." I smirked.
"Now, now Violet. You don't want to get my riled up. Not with you getting released and all. You know how skilled I am with my hands." Anderson threatened.
"Oh Anderson, you got me knocking in my boots" I cried in mock fear. Sure he can be brutal with the beatings but Anderson doesn't scare me. No one has scared me in a long time. Not since *before*.
"Do something about it Anderson. I'm not scared of you and never will be." I challenged. Anderson tightened his hold, pushing me further on down the blue mile toward my cell.
"You never learn to keep your trap shut. Do you want another matching scar Stokes?" Anderson put his hand on his baton, trying but failing to scare me.
"Do your worst Anderson" I smirked.
"You aren't worth my time. Those pretty lips don't do it for me." Anderson spat in hatred.
"I know it's the male variety that does it for you sir." I laughed. Anderson shook his head, thrusting me into my cell.
"You'll be back Violet" Anderson walked away, turning around for the last word, "they always come back" he continued back down the blue mile.
I've been waiting for this day to come for fifteen years, now that it's here, I'm beginning to wonder how much has changed in the outside world since I've been locked up. Will people want to be around me? How will people react, when they find out what I was locked up for? Who wants to be friends with a murderer.