Promise | Bellamy Blake (editing)

Part One: To the Ground

As I stare aimlessly at the ceiling above me, I hear a loud crash from the cell beside me. I roll my eyes and shout, "Really? Can you not handle yourself enough to be quiet for a few seconds? Today is not a good day for me, so just save your mental breakdowns for another day."

The sounds stop and and sit up from my worn cot. I bend down to pick up my socks and slide then on my cold feet. I think about the faceless person in the cell next to me and can't help but feel bad for what I've said. Being here may have made me impatient and harsh, but inside I still felt like the shy and caring person I used to be. Prison made me grow up, but I wish it didn't change my attitude.

Once I've laced up my boots and combed through my hair with my thin fingers, I stand up and make my way to the opposite end of my small compartment. Ever since my very first day here, I have tallied every night that has passed. Picking up the nub of charcoal that I am allowed to have, I add another mark to the wall of lines. Seven hundred and thirty days. Two years have officially passed since I was sent to this hell hole.

I sigh and look down at my hands in defeat. There's only a matter of time until I'm floated; my birthday is in four days. My eighteenth birthday, the one I've been excited for since I was a little kid. The day that would make it possible for me to decide what I want to do with my life. The day I could live on my own. The day Bellamy and I planned out a hundred times. Now it just means that my death awaits.

The thoughts of Bellamy coming here to say goodbye in four days passes through my head, but I instantly regret it because it makes me remember that I haven't seen him since the day my sister died.

He never came back for me. When my trial came, he wasn't there to defend me. He's never even visited me in the years that have passed. Not once. I always thought that he cared about me enough that he would stand by my side, but I was proved wrong. Now he is nothing to me.

To get my mind off of the thing that bothers me daily, I pick up a random book from the small pile in the corner of my cell. The front reads 'The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain.' I've read it twenty two times. It's a book from the ground - 100 or more years old. Apparently it's a classic, but not valued enough to be kept safe in the library. Instead, books like these are tossed into a cart of old books for prisoners like me.

Flipping to the first page, I read the beginning sentence. I don't even have to scan my eyes across the words to know what the next line is, but I do so anyways. I read like this for another thirty minutes before I groan in annoyance and toss the paperback across the floor.

"I'm so sick of reading the same things and thinking the same things. I want to do something new before I die. Is that too much to ask?" I mumble to myself.

An unexpected answer comes from the other side of the wall. "Yes, way too much to ask. You should know that by now."

I turn my head towards my neighbor and reply, "No one asked you. Leave me alone."

A cold laugh escapes his lips. "Calm down girl. Just making conversation."

I ignore him and slouch against the wall. I can't believe I'm going to die. This was never what I imagined my life would be like. I always had dreams of becoming something great and having an amazing life. It doesn't seem right that it's going to end this way. It feels like there has to be something more than this.

Before I fall into my nightmares that night, I pray.

"Hey there God. I've never really believed in you- not many do anymore- but I just want to ask you a favor. Please, let me live before I die."

______

My sleep is interrupted when the door to my cell is yanked open and orders are shouted by the officers. My eyes shoot open and I stand up in confusion. Glancing at the officer standing firmly in the middle of my cell, I rush to ask, "What's going on? My birthday isn't for another three days. Isn't my file allowed to be revisited?"