The Prison (Book 1)

New York, New York

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New York, New York

The tears just wouldn't stop falling, so I just stopped bothering to wipe them away. I was the only one on the bus, anyway. Who would have thought that I would be on this bus again, except I'd be leaving? I certainly hadn't imagined the possibility of freedom in a million years.

I absentmindedly watched the green trees blur by from the caged window while thinking of Schneizel. My heart clenched painfully. In my mind's eye, I pictured his handsome face, his arched eyebrows, his aristocratic nose, and his breathtaking blue eyes that changed color when he was angry or riled. Everything about him was downright arresting.

I didn't even have his phone number. How would I speak to him again? Would I even be able to? Would he come to the phone? Or would he just not bother again?

The thought of not hearing his voice ever again brought a wave of fresh tear to my eyes. I didn't even have a photograph to remember him by. How long would it take before his face faded out of my memory?

Half an hour later, the bus arrived at the island's dock, where a boat was waiting for me.

Six hours and forty-six minutes later, I was standing in front of the door of my new apartment in New York. The gorgeous apartment located in one of New York's many high-rise buildings had three bedrooms, a spacious living room with modern cream furniture, a separate kitchen, and a large balcony overlooking a spectacular view of the city.

"This envelope contains the details of your bank account. The money promised to you has already been deposited into it." The man who had greeted me the moment I stepped off the boat placed a large envelope on the table by the door just as he was leaving. He'd been assigned by Mrs Williams to show me my new place, according to him. "That's pretty much it. I wrote my phone number inside the envelope in case you need anything."

I thanked him for his help and walked him to the door. Once he was gone, I shut the door, locked it and I slowly turned around. I took in my apartment once again. My apartment. This beautiful, spacious place was mine. I could scarcely wrap my mind around it, let alone believe it. How long had it been since I stretched my legs in a room bigger than a card box? How long since I breathed clean, fresh air and saw the clear sky? I found myself heading to the balcony; I couldn't get enough of the sun, or what was left of it. The sun was setting, and saw I walked into the most gorgeous sunset I had ever seen -or maybe it felt like that because I hadn't seen one in months.

I stood there on the balcony, leaning against the glass railing until all light faded and the moon glowed high in the sky. Despite having so much to think about, like finding a job or figuring out what to do with all that money, all I could think about were a pair of electric blue eyes. My heart felt heavier than ever with each passing hour away from him.

How long would it take before it burst?

****

Months passed by without incident in my suddenly uneventful life. The days of having to share a living space were long behind me.

Having had enough with being confined by walls, I spent the first few weeks out and about in the city, just walking around, breathing it all in. I frequented Central Park where I would just sit on a certain favorite bench of mine and just stare at the trees for hours on end, with nothing but a bagel sandwich from a nearby stand to sustain me. I had yet to find myself a job; I was mostly afraid of the social stigma I'd face when applying for any job. It was certainly a stain on my once crime-free record to have been a resident of a notorious prison. I highly doubted that any employer would be willing to overlook my previous imprisonment, at least not without probing and asking a few questions. Questions that would resurface painful memories.