Echoes of Innocence

01

6 years. Gone. Just like that.

The prison was eerily quiet at night. The only sound came from the flicker of the hallway nights and the occasional footsteps of the guards. I had always hated the silence here. It made me think too much...

I ran a hand over my face, feeling the rough stubble that had become a part of me, just like the scars across my body. Some of them I could ignore, but one in particular always burned in the back of my mind. A long jagged scar running across my ribs— courtesy of Diego, another inmate.

I clenched my fists just thinking about him. That guy had been a problem since day one. Always lurking, always watching, waiting for a chance to jump me. He nearly finished me off a few years back.

But tomorrow morning, I would never see him again. I'd be out of this hellhole. I sat up, swinging my legs off the bed, sighing as I ran a hand through my hair. I couldn't sleep. Not tonight. My mind was racing, not just from the idea of being free but because I wasn't sure what waited for me out there. My mom hadn't visited me in years. No friends, no family. Would they even know I was getting out?

The door buzzed open, and the guards footsteps echoed down the hall. It was morning already?

"García. Let's go."

I could feel every eye in the place on me as I walked out of the cell. The guards flanked me, keeping the rest of the inmates back, but I knew the whispers would start as soon as I was gone. Guys like me didn't just walk out untouched.

As we moved down the corridor, I heard a familiar voice behind me, a voice I knew all too well.

"Yo García! Don't think that this is over!" It was Diego, his voice dripping with venom. "You're a dead man outside, you hear me?! You think you're safe out there? You'll never be free!"

I kept walking, my eyes fixed straight ahead, but my blood boiled under the surface as my fists instinctively clenched. Diego was standing at his cell door, gripping the bars so tight his knuckles turned white. His face twisted with hate, eyes burning right into me like he'd jump me right then if he could.

"Just wait, García," he spat. "You'll get what you deserve. I promise you that." He started laughing.

My jaw tightened. The urge to turn around and wipe that smirk off his face rising in my chest. I could picture him watching me with hate-filled eyes watching me like a predator sizing up his prey. But I wasn't a prey. Not anymore. Diego had tried to beat me down before, giving me these scars, but I'd walked out of those fights every time, and I'd walk out of this prison too. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of thinking he could still get under my skin.

I kept walking, my pulse steadying with every step towards the gate. I stepped out of the cell block and into the processing area, the doors shutting behind me with a loud clang. That was it. I'd never see that bastard or that hellhole ever again.

The guards took my prints one last time and handed me a pile of neatly folded clothes— regular clothes, not the orange jumpsuit I had been wearing for years. Putting them on almost felt strange, like I was trying on someone else's life. I almost felt like an impostor in my own body.

"Enjoy your freedom, asshole." One of the guards muttered, his eyes cold as he tossed my papers back at me. I didn't care. None of their comments could touch me now.

The gates opened, and I stepped outside. The air hit me like a wave, fresh and cool, nothing like the stale, metallic air inside those walls. I stood there for a minute, frozen, staring at the world I hadn't seen in 6 years. I couldn't process that this was real.

Then I started walking.

I headed towards the bus stop, each step taking me farther away from the place that nearly broke me. I was really going back home.