Survival of the Fittest

Chapter Six - The Newly Reformed Criminal

"Violet Madden, please step forward..."

I stood and took a deep breath, smoothing out my pristine navy blue trousers and rebuttoning my blazer.  The judge was older and reminded me of Judge Judy so I felt myself relax slightly in spite of the surroundings.

"Violet, you have been charged with drug trafficking but due to your service to the community and the year of parole you have completed successfully I am ready to expunge your record and allow you a chance to start fresh."

Relief flooded my body as I gave a wide grin and whispered thank you to her, a chance to start over now ahead of me and I do not intend to take it for granted..

Starting fresh is all I have wanted for so long.  A chance to break away from how I was raised.  Sure, I dealt drugs but only as a means to an end.  My family never had much and when they kicked me out at 17 I promised myself I would hustle to make my life something special.  Now that I got the all clear from the parole board, I could take the money I have stored away and make something of my life.  I can really change things and try something different.

All I need is that chance.

The judge continued speaking but my body felt lighter and confusion set in as the air became moist around me.  I sat up sharply and my hands instantly went to my side as I sucked air through my teeth and cringed.

Why does my head hurt so badly?  And why the fuck can't I focus?  Come on, Violet.  Give yourself the chance to survive!

"Okay, Vi.  Back into the issue from another angle.  You can do this.  You can figure this out.  Where are you?  The jungle?"

I'm lying near a gigantic tree with vines hanging all over but the ground is covered in a moss and there are animal noises everywhere.  My head is pounding like a gong every few seconds and I can feel the sticky wetness of a deep puncture wound in my side.  I noticed my black leggings were torn in a few places but my comfy Toms slip on shoes were in place.  There were various bruises and cuts across my body and I could feel how badly banged up I was.  However I got hurt happened to cut my clothes pretty well but my black sports bra was still intact and my tattered cotton band t-shirt would be considered a fashion statement in some circles.

I let out a few deep, cleansing breaths and continued surveying the area.  My brain is processing as I try to focus and then see something in the distance.

A plane.

That's it. I had been on a plane.

It was after my parole hearing where I was released and my record expunged.  My years peddling molly and weed to college kids who wanted to party were over but at least I have plenty of money socked away that I can now enjoy.  To celebrate my newfound freedom, I decided to finally travel and come up with a game plan for where to go from here with my life.

South America was my destination, and the flight had been smooth aside from some delays at the beginning due to my connecting flights.  This morning... I just can't figure out the other pieces to the puzzle.

As I looked around my immediate area I found a wayward fanny pack hanging from a tree branch and gingerly reached to retrieve the ugly plastic contraption.  My fingers were singed and I realized looking down that my long lavender hair was in a tangled mess with glass and leaves still embedded in my locks.  The surroundings became more clear as my eyes were able to focus and I realized just how bad things really were.

The fuselage was about a quarter of a mile away from me but the smell of rotting bodies and plastic and fuel was strong.  I could hear animals in the distance but my general surroundings were just various flora and fauna along with random wreckage strewn throughout an otherwise untouched section of the jungle.