Cassandra

Four years later

I watched as the prison gate opened in front of me. I felt pretty joyful. They let me out a year early for good behavior and because the prison was overbooked – Sun Bolt was doing way too good of a job. I was on parole though, but I didn't really care about that, at least I was out.

I stepped out of the gate and saw a familiar car in the parking lot and a boy leaning on it. My good mood disappeared immediately. I walked to him quickly. He looked quite different actually. He was a lot bigger, then I remembered him – a lot more muscle. He did have a big familiar smile on his face though, when he saw me.

"Hey, Cassy!" he said happily like he had just seen me yesterday. Like nothing ever happened.

At that moment I didn't care, that I had just gotten out of prison, I didn't care if they would put me right back in there. I punched him straight in the face.

"What the hell was that for, Cas?!" he sounded really angry.

"What the hell do you think that's for?" I was furious, so he got nothing on me.

He looked really pissed off. For a second I thought he was going to punch me back, but then he relaxed and opened a car door for me.

"Get in," he said simply.

"Yeah right, like I'm gonna go anywhere with you again." I looked around. It seemed that nobody cared about our bickering.

"It's 20 kilometers to the city. Do you really wanna walk?" his anger had completely dissolved.

When I got out, they asked me whether somebody is coming to get me or should they call a taxi for me. I said I'll be fine on my own. I had no idea, that Seth would come.

"Fine," I said and reluctantly sat in the car.

Seth sat next to me and started the car.

"I got a gig for us tomorrow," he said as we drove out of the parking lot.

"Are you kidding me? I just got out. I'm not going back in."

"You only go back, if you get caught."

"Forget about it. I'm out. As soon as you take me to the city, I'm gone."

"What are you talking about?"

"Have you gone deaf in these four years? I said I'm out. I'm not going to break the law again."

"What are you going to do then? Get a job at some stupid supermarket and live in a one room apartment for the rest of your life?"

"Better than the life I had before."

"It's better now. We actually have a good place to live, we have money, we have respect."

"You are not wearing a suit and you drive that old tin can you call a car, so sorry if I don't believe you."

"Better than what you have now." Well he was right about that – my entire life was in a small backpack that I had with me.

"How about I don't care what you do and you don't care what I do."

"You know I can't do that."

"Am I supposed to believe that after all that shit you still love me?"

"I do."

"Well you are sure doing a good job at showing that. If you haven't noticed I just spent four years in prison, during which time you didn't visit me not even once. You never even sent me a birthday card or anything." Not that I thought much of my birthday - my life wasn't exactly something to celebrate.