And I had hers when they tried to do it to her later that night in retaliation for helping me.
Ruthie was in jail because her husband had tried to beat her to death, and instead of taking it lying down, she’d shot him while he was peeing during one of his breaks from hitting her.
Something that almost anyone would’ve done.
Ruthie was thirty-one to my twenty-nine, and she had four months left on her nine-year sentence.
And I felt horrible leaving her alone.
“Ruthie,” I said softly. “I’m so sorry.”
Ruthie’s face melted as she took me in.
“It’s going to be okay, Sawyer. I promise. You’ll see,” she whispered.
I should’ve known when those words came out of her mouth, that they would only bring bad luck.
Those words gave me hope when I damn well knew I shouldn’t have had any.
“Get out of here already. They called for you over an hour ago,” she urged quickly.
I put one last thing in my trash bag and walked up to the one thing that had saved me these last eight years. The one woman I owed my life to, over and over again.
“I love you, Ruthie,” I whispered to her. “I’ll be waiting the day you get out.”
She hugged me tight.
“I’ll look forward to it. We’ll go for burgers and a beer. Okay?” She asked hopefully.
I nodded weakly.
She grinned, and I let her go.
She tossed me my bag, and I walked out behind the guard that’d be walking me to the front gates.
I felt lost.
Really lost.
I had no clue what I’d do once I got out.
I knew my mom was willing to take me home… but I didn’t have a home.
Not anymore.
I was staying at a halfway house in town, much to my parent’s annoyance.
But I just didn’t think they needed to hear me at night when I woke up from my nightmares.
The scenes that played out in my mind, over and over as if in a loop, night after night.
Although, now, they weren’t all the same horrid one of the night I crashed into that Bronco.
Now there were new ones… more vivid ones that didn’t have eight years on top of the memories.
“Hurry up, girl,” the guard at my side said. “They’re about to come in from the yard, and I don’t want to be caught with my pants down.”
I checked the eye roll.
Apparently, I was the ‘pants down’ portion of his problem.
Then he’d have to protect me since I was technically no longer a ward of this prison.
I hurried anyway, though.
I had a date with Isaac. And I couldn’t wait to see him.
I was blessed to have him.
He’d been there for me through thick and thin.
As had Bristol.
They were two of the best friends ever.
We arrived at the final door that would lead me to the final hallway that led outside, and I swear my heart was about to beat out of my chest.
Not necessarily from happiness, though.
From fear.
I’d spent eight long years on the inside, and I wasn’t sure I would ever be the same.
I’d always be registered as a criminal.
Finding a job would be hard.
Really hard.
I already knew my nursing career was gone.
You couldn’t be an ex-con and be a nurse. You had to have a clean record.
Fuck, but I’d had an extensive background check to even get into the program in the first place.
Now, the entire year and a half I’d spent on my bachelors of nursing degree was useless.
As were many medical field jobs that might be willing to take my college credits.
“Sign here,” the guard behind the glass window ordered, shoving a paper in my direction and a bag of my belongings.
There wasn’t much there.
An old cell phone that was so outdated that I’d never be able to turn it on again, let alone use it.
A key to my old dorm… something else I didn’t need anymore.
A wallet with my driver’s license in it.
My expired driver’s license.
And a watch.
That was it.
The extent of the belongings I had arrived here with.
“Here’s all the Certificates of your Release for timed served. Here’s your post bail money, as well as a bus ticket,” the guard muttered.
I smiled. “I won’t need the bus ticket, I have someone meeting me.”
I hadn’t told my mom the exact day I was getting out.
I wanted to get changed out of these horrid clothes first.
They were mine, but they fit my twenty-two year old self. Not my twenty-nine year old self. They were too tight, and I was fairly sure that if I bent over, the button on the front of my pants would burst off and shatter the glass in front of me.
He shrugged and threw the ticket down onto the table beside him.
“Thanks,” I muttered, putting the watch on.
It felt weird.
Like really weird.
I hadn’t worn jewelry in well over eight years.
Belly flipping summersaults, I walked out the door of the long hallway and stepped into the sunshine.
To find nobody there.
It was just that, the end of the road.
I looked to my left, noting the huge red fence that marked my captivity for the last eight years.
Then to my front to see the very empty parking lot.
Then to my right, seeing more of that same red brick.