Orange Jumpsuits

Recovery

A/N: Alright, I'm back! Biggest question is for how long. I've had a lot of medical stuff going on but I finally have a diagnosis! Yay!! Ending on that note, let's begin!

     I felt as if I had no soul after what I'd been through. I tried to remember how things were before a train wreck was forced upon my life. Thinking about it only made it worse, though. From as far back as I could remember, things had never gone my way. It had gotten so bad that I didn't have a way anymore. I thrived off of others decisions.

     I tried to remember my kids back in my class. I had been a third grade teacher for nearly five years. I could see myself doing it for the rest of my life. Unfortunately, instead of making a living, getting married, and starting a family, I would be spending the rest of my life in prison.

     And, oh, my kids! I had twenty-one students that I taught Science, Reading and Writing, and Math to. They were amazing kids. The school year had only just begun when I was arrested. To make it worse, I was in my classroom with all my kids when the arrest had happened...

     'Wow, they are doing really well in reading,' I thought as I scanned through their grades. 'We definitely need to work on math...'

     "Ms. Tan! Look what we made in Art!" I heard Keith say behind me. He was one of my all time favorites. They all were coming back from Art, which was one of their absolute favourites. He held up a paper plate with tissue recklessly glued on the sides and middle creating what looked like a smiley face.

     "It's beautiful, Keith!" I said thrillingly. A few others held up theirs, squealing my name to catch my attention. I sat them down to begin a long lesson of Math. I was ready to go home.

     All of the sudden there was a jostle of a door knob followed by many cops streaming through. The part that scared me the most was that their guns drawn from their belts.

      "Get down on the ground!" One of them shouted. I stared at them, the color draining from my face. I took a moment to glance at my students.  The poor things looked terrified.

     "Ms. Tan!" several of them shouted as an officer tackled me to the ground. I wish they made this more descent for the children. Their poor souls. I felt awful. Then it came to me, 'Why are they doing this?'

     "What I do?!?" I yelled, becoming irrational. I began kicking and screaming. Tears rolled down my face. I heard my inner voice whisper, 'Calm down, Sam!' But something bigger just screaming endlessly.

     "What I do?!" I sobbed and sobbed. I kicked the police officer who was putting handcuffs on me. He let out a grimace. I head-butted another officer coming at me. More rushed arond me as I continued to kick the officer I had put on the ground. One pulled his gun once again.

     "Stop it or I'll shoot!" I stopped and dropped to the floor as another officer leaped on top of me. I  stopped screaming and fighting. I just cried. Those tears did not stop for the entire ride to the station.

      "How'd this happen..." I said to myself in my cell. I was just an elementary school teacher who thought she had it rough because of a messed up family and stress from work, but now... Now was an entire different story.

     Suddenly, my door opened. 

     "You have your monthly psychology work up today," the guard who saved my life said. It cheered me up to see a familiar face. Then he realized I had been crying by my puffy eyes. When I cried, it was not pretty.

     "Are you okay?" he said, standing taller, concern written all over his face. I couldn't help but break down again. He must have not known what to say. He wasn't supposed to "comfort" me, so he just gulped and said, "Good thing you're going to therapy right now. It's helped a lot of people in here cope."

     I pulled myself together and nodded. He did the cuff routine. The cuffs only reminded me that I'm alone in here no matter what. Even the security guard who told me he believed me couldn't do anything to comfort me as I sat there. I wished to be elsewhere. As we walked down the hallway in awkward silence, he suddenly started talking.

     "You know, the convents that I normally encounter here are more... rough. It effects my ability to be a normal, everyday person outside these walls. I find my self wondering if it's even worth it. I can't be nice to anyone in here or out there. I feel it's against my nature to be nice." He was looking down at this point. He also slowed his walking pace.

     "But I've noticed this: ever since you came here, read your history, talked to you... I've become amazed. I feel like I don't need to judge anyone anymore by their past. It's what's on the inside; as cheesy as that sounds."  We shared a weak laugh.

     I didn't respond at first. I just took in what he said. A tear rolled down my face. I was not sure why, but I guess I was just relieved that something good came out of this.

     When we got to the door labeled "Psycologist", he turned me around and looked me straight in the eyes.

     "Do not give up. This will come to an end, and you will definitely get out of here. That, I'm sure of."

     I closed my eyes and nodded. Once more, I opening them, more tears blurring my vision.

     "Thank you."