Bad feelings are one part of what sucks about this world. Good feelings are the other. Because the good stuff is what can get taken from you, the rug that gets pulled out from under you. A warming feeling that, once it's gone, leaves you out in the...
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M E G A N
Sitting on a metal table in the prison corridor, I wait in silence as the sun starts to set, sending orange glares through the wide windows.
Dinner just ended and now the group is either getting ready for bed, taking their night shifts or sitting in the courtyard and enjoying each other's company.
The silence in this room becomes deafening as I realize that these are my last moments of secured safety before venturing outside of the walls.
Carl and I plan on leaving early before sunrise but well after everyone goes to sleep. We're leaving from the southwest wing because that's where our guard tower is. Every other guard tower will have other members of the group taking watch over the tree line.
I decide that before I get ready to return to the guard tower, I'll take one last look at this place.
First up, I'll visit story time. I've never actually been, but I want to remember the atmosphere of a group of children invested in a simple story. Those won't come around often these days.
I prop myself up from the table and walk out of the door into the courtyard. I walk my way over to the library and look through the window in the front door.
Carol intently reads a children's book, projecting her clear voice and all of the kids look up at her from their positions on the floor.
A sense of gratitude washes over me when I take in the simplicity of this moment. The moment comes to a sudden end when the door swings open, hitting my shoulder.
Out comes a pale-faced Patrick, the boy looking like he hasn't had food in weeks. He is covered in his own dripping sweat.
"Oh, I'm sorry," He starts to say when he realizes that he hit me with the door.
"Don't be," I put a hand on his collarbone and stabilize him. "You look like shit. Are you okay?"
"I'm going to go yak," The boy starts, grabbing my wrist and taking my hand off of him. "I'll catch you later." He tries to point at me but points in a different direction.
Without a second thought, the boy speeds off and pitifully stumbles toward the entrance of the prison.
"Yeah, later." I speak out, but my discouraged tone makes it sound as if it's more of a whisper.
I shouldn't be saying such things knowing that I won't see him later or possibly ever again after today.
Glenn and Beth also walk into the corridor of the prison. I begin to jog across the small courtyard in hopes that the door won't close behind them.
