A Journey Into the Land of Dreams

Lock Up

I squinted at the man behind the desk. He was a little bit hard to understand and I was attempting to focus on his words but the silver of his badge kept shining directly into my eyes. I had come to interview some of the prisoners over their crimes and their sentences. It was for a documentary over lock up and how some of the prisoners' minds worked when they committed their crime.
I also happened to know one particular prisoner. We had a thing going on for a while and I was particularly interested in talking to him. He always was so intriguing and it honestly helped that he was extremely easy on the eyes. Jordan Blackwell. That was his name. I could picture him all too well. Tall, about 6'6 with a beautiful olive skin tone and a gorgeous pair of blue eyes that pierced through your soul. His midnight black hair has fallen in soft waves down to his shoulders and he almost always had a half-up, half-down man-bun in. He had a scar through his left eyebrow that slanted down to the right. He had just the right amount of muscle too and he could have made any girl cream their panties just by a look at him. And that voice of his, so rich, so deep, so fucking sexy. I could hear him now.
I could feel myself getting a little bit wet as my thoughts swarmed around him, so I cleared my throat and focused back in on what the man behind the desk was saying. I was here to do a job. Not to get horny for one of the inmates. The man waved his hand to the left to show me where the kitchen was, so I decided I would start there.
I made my way over to the kitchen and saw they were making chicken pot pie. The cook was an inmate, and damn it looked like he knew his stuff. My interest was peeked so I started off by talking to him. He had explained he was actually trained in culinary and was the head chef at a small chain of restaurants for about 10 years. He had then, decided he wanted to open his own restaurant, but did not have the funds to do so, despite having saved money up for 5 or more years, so he turned to crime to solve his problem. He had robbed fifteen houses and a bank before finally being caught. He had almost enough to open his own restaurant and just like that, life as he knew it, was over. He had gotten 30 years in prison. But, due to good behavior, and his excellent culinary skills, he was able to provide all inmates with a decent meal.
After hearing his story and sampling his pies, I decided it was time to take on the next area. The gymnasium. I suddenly remembered my mother worked here and had forgotten to tell her I was coming for work and knew she wouldn't approve of the next prisoner I was going to speak to. She never did like Jordan. I quickly grabbed a long string of the pie crust, much to the chef's dismay. I said sorry and then curled it up in my hand to make a giant ball so my mom wouldn't see my face, then headed towards the gym.
I approached the gym and held the ball up as I cautiously entered on the opposite side my mother and carefully headed in the direction of Jordan's cell. That's when I saw an inmate that I knew. Marcos. I got a little pissed off cause we were supposed to stay in contact so I approached him. "No how's it been, no nothing?" He looked caught off guard and then smirked. I just walked off angrily and then collected myself before entering Jordan's room.
I approached and sat down. This was very much Silence of the Lambs style communication. There was a chair set out for me and he sat behind a glass wall. He was still just like I remembered. And I felt myself getting a little wet once more. Fuck. I thought but didn't say it out loud. Jordan stared at me then smirked. "Well hello, gorgeous. Long time it's been."
"Not too terribly long, Jordan." I smiled.
"Feels like it has. Been missing your pretty face." He grinned.
I just rolled my eyes and explained why I was here. We started talking. He had committed murder. It really should have been justified. His mother has been abused by his stepdad and he took was abused. He finally had enough and shot him. He took it a little far, however and stabbed him 39 times with a knife which exceeded self defense. It was a lesser sentence than life though, since it started out as self defense. He had gotten 40 years and was able to get out on parole in 20 years.
His eyes told so much of the pain he had felt. His eyes told the story more than his mouth did. I felt for him and I was so angry that he had to go through this. I felt my eyes get wet. It didn't seem fair for him to be locked up like an animal while the rest of the inmates got to essentially do whatever the fuck they wanted.
After that meeting, I found myself continuing to come back and see him. I felt our romance blossoming all over again. I knew we would be together when he got out and I was the one who would be getting him out and picking him up. I started saving up so we could have a house together. It was going to work for us this time because we were determined to make it work.