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29 | Chapter Twenty-Nine
June, 2015 | Harlem, New York
According to our lawyers, Nyson was still in the hospital getting treated for the gun shot wound. Tyson and Raven, along with Kingston and Jasmine and two other people who I had never really met, were in jail. Part of me wanted to leave it at that. But the fact that not everyone in those cells were bad kept eating at me until I really, like really wanted to go to the prison. I was never fond of prisons, and I definitely didn't want to go to one after the realization that prisons were possibly twice as bad as the conditions I was in with Reid. But after telling Joey, and then discussing it with my mother, everyone decided it was only best that I go.
Apparently, the first step in my 'overcoming process' (this was according to my counselor, [yes, my counselor. My mother swore this would help limit the chances of me obtaining PTSD] a weird lady who I doubt actually had a license) was to get some closure, and the only way I could do that, was talking to one of my accusers. Which was probably the reason why I was sitting on a stiff chair waiting for one of the officers to bring out Tyson. I was somewhat worried to see him. I knew, and he knew as well, that I was trying to either get Nyson to die, or get him to go to jail for life and the affiliation he had with Nyson (since he was his brother, a long with someone who had a key role in everything) was going to get him dragged into the legal matter.
But that didn't stop the fact that he was in jail, and it was all my fault.
And if the roles were switched, I would definitely feel some sort of animosity towards him.
I caught sight of the door opening, and then two guards followed suit keeping a close watch on an orange wearing Tyson. He didn't look like he was traumatized in being here, but then again, he had Nyson as a brother so maybe he was immune to the ways of the inmates. He shot me a plain smile when he spotted me. Literally, plain. He had no grills on and surprisingly his teeth looked pretty neat. His tattoos were covered by the prison attire he was wearing and he looked like a normal person.
You know, despite the fact that we were sitting here inside of a jail.
"Hey Tyson." I responded.
He glanced behind me, most likely looking past the clear wall where Doctor Vincent, my counselor, and Joey were seated in the waiting room. He nodded at me. "What's up, Isis?" He questioned. I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Like you really don't know what's up." I responded. Tyson couldn't help but laugh. He knew what was up. His lawyer was probably feeding him with the timeline of what Joey and I were doing, and maybe even Reid too. I couldn't blame him. They were just getting ready for this case.
"How is it out there? Joey getting better?" Tyson questioned.
I nodded. "I mean, the bullet is removed so that's good. The only thing he's living with is his brace." I responded, which was the truth. Joey, according to his doctor, had to keep his brace on for at least two more weeks. From there, he'd be limited to doing certain task like lifting up heavy objects and stuff along those lines.
But I don't think Tyson wanted to hear the full medical idea.
"What about you?" Tyson questioned.
I didn't want to tell him I was doing good. It seemed almost braggadocios for me to be telling him about how great life was treating me when he could be serving up to ten years in prison. So instead I just sighed and shrugged. "I mean, it's getting better day by day." I responded, which could partially be the truth. Things were getting better day by day.
"I'm not mad at you, girl. If that's what you think." Tyson assured me. I shot him a look. "I never said you were." I responded, but in reality I had been thinking it. This was possibly why everything I was thinking about saying was taken into consideration. I wasn't trying to create a bigger problem out of this mess.
