Crowns and Chains

Chapter Eight: No Second Chances

Drake

Tomorrow.

Well, thirty-six more hours to be exact.

And I'm free.

My last full day of shitty meals, filthy bathrooms, disgusting toilets, concrete beds and rusty metal bars. I lay contemplating on my cold concrete-like bed. The 'mattress' was just this pathetic sack filled with what once was foam, that turned into what feels like tiny pebbles crushing beneath me. My mind shifts back to Candace as I lay there. Candace was the biggest bitch I have ever known or I will ever know. 

Why the fuck didn't I leave her sooner?

She wasn't a bitch before though, but that was when I was five and she was around her late twenties. The bitch basically raised me; but that was before. 

My eyes darkened at the memories, my fists clenching tighter and tighter; the anger inside me growing stronger. Not being able to help myself, I punch the wall next to me; hoping it was Candace's face. Sharp pain shoots up through my right arm, and the warm liquid oozes out. Calming down; I tear up some of my shirt and wrap it around my bloody knuckles. 

That'll do for now.

 "What other choice do we have? We're not free like you. This... is our only reminder of how it feels like to be free again."  

I look back at my past argument with Stuck Up, we seem to be always arguing. That look on her face when I said that. There was no anger or embarrassment at all, she just stared, shocked, then her look changed... into pure empathy. She shouldn't feel empathy, she's free after all. Free to do whatever she pleases. So, why? Why did she look at me like that? Like she understands completely?

I close my eyes sighing, attempting to sleep but fail. As usual.

----

"And it seems like my time is up once again." Stuck Up says sighing, "Thank you for coming everyone, see you again next week, have a great weekend!" I look around the circle of men, some sighing, some just getting up to leave, muttering a 'thanks' first. I stay in my chair, till everyone else left. She had her back turned to me, fixing her stuff, this was the only time she hadn't told me to stay behind to give me another sermon. I clear my throat.

"Ah! Mr Wells! W-what brings you to stay?" She jumps in surprise, expecting everyone to have left already. 

"I wanted to ask you something."  I ask, leaning my elbows on my knees.

"Ask away." She says, gaining composure, leaning on the desk. 

"What is it like out there?" She stares at me for a few seconds after I asked the question. I could practically see all the questions she's itching to ask.

"Well, I can honestly say nothing much has changed in the past two years and you have been in here for that time if I remember correctly. Why do you ask?" 

"Just curious." I reply, shrugging. 

"Do you remember what it was like when you were out there?" She asks after a few seconds of silence.

It sure as hell wasn't freedom. 

"Not really." I lie.

"What do you plan on doing once you are out?" She asks cautiously, as if asking me too much would make me walk out. She's right of course.

I couldn't help but scoff, a sarcastic smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

What else can I do? I can't get a job because of my prison record, nor a house for that matter. For people like me, there's no such thing as second chances.

And it's not even my fucking fault I have a record.

"Get away from here as far as possible." I reply.

"Ah. Mr Wells, when is your release date?" She asks softly, looking down on the floor; avoiding my eyes.

Tomorrow.

"Tomorrow?!" She asks standing up.

Shit, did I say that out loud? 

"Do you have anyone picking you up?" She asks softly and I nod, lying.

"I see, well I wish you the best Mr Wells." She says standing up, not pressuring me any further which I was thankful for. Walking closer towards me, she outstretches her hand, offering me a handshake. I accept, standing up and towering over her small frame. My hand encloses her tiny one, from my fingers it was very warm and felt like handling the finest silk. 

Her face changed to seriousness, her green eyes staring at the bandaged hand. "May I?" She questions and I stay silent. She begins unwrapping the cloth, placing it to a neat roll. I still haven't tended to the cut, so it was crusty with blood. She sucks in a breath as she sees the bloody knuckles.

"This does not look good, why did you not get it checked?" She asks furrowing her brows, examining my hand. "It does not look like it needs stitches so that is good." She tugs at my arm softly, motioning me to follow her to her desk. Grabbing what looks like wet wipes from her bag, she starts dabbing gently at the wounds. 

"You don't need to do that." I state, pulling my hand away. She grips my wrist and pulls me back, a glare on her face.

"Stop being stubborn will you?" She demands, furrowing her eyebrows in frustration. A smile tugs at my lips at her frustration as she continues cleansing the wound. She presses harder at the wound and I flinch, the cut started bleeding again. 

"Sorry, but the dried blood might be infected." She mutters, cleaning it gently this time. Stuck Up puts pressure on the bleeding wound, stopping the flow. 

I look at her face, she looks so focused, her warm gentle hands working with such care. I examine her features, her big green doe eyes staring intently at her work, her nose, slightly upturned at the tip. Then my gaze lands on her plump lips, they looked so soft, so... pink.

Sighing she puts down the wipes and retrieves a handkerchief from her bag. She wraps the handkerchief around my knuckles and between my fingers, tying a neat knot to finish it off, how she managed to do it with such a short cloth was beyond me. 

Stuck Up examines it one more time, and as if satisfied with her handy work, she releases my hand. "That should do, good thing I got my handy disinfectant wipes." She says grinning, like it was the norm to carry around hospital grade disinfectant wipes.

"Thank you." I state looking at her, she looks back at me, tilting her head and smiling.

"It was a pleasure. Next time, try not to hurt yourself. Or anyone else for that matter." I look at her one more time, there was no judgement in her tone, just simply warmth. 

"You should go, someone's waiting for you." I gesture at the huge guy at the door. 

Who is he? A bodyguard? Why would a guidance counselor need a bodyguard? Boyfriend? No, he looks too old. Unless she likes them old? 

"Oh, that is my friend Jon, and it does seem that I must go." She says. "Well, I won't be seeing you tomorrow Mr Wells so."

"I hope to see you outside as a free man then." She smiles and I catch myself sucking in a sharp breath.

"Thank you Miss Campbell." I say and she gives me the warmest smile. 

"You are very welcome Mr Wells, it was a pleasure. Although I can not say I have helped you as much as I have helped the others." She replies with a questioning tone.

"But you have tried. So, thanks." I mutter.

"See you around then, Mr Wells." She says, her eyes lingering on me for a second longer before grabbing her stuff and walking away.

I stare at her retreating figure, she was so elegant, so graceful, her golden hair bouncing slightly in soft waves down her back. 

Beautiful.

****

Happy Happy New Year Everyone!!