Prison Nation Part 4

"The Nation takes care of all of its convicts, Millie." Dr. Eriks voice cut into me.

"I know. But... my parents... they need me. For all the small things, you know? I just, I don't know, I just don't want them to..."

I didn't add the other reason. The fear that I knew nothing outside these walls. I had learned the history, I knew the laws. I knew the prison rules. Outside these walls though, I didn't know that life. I didn't know its rules.

Dr. Eriks leaned back, locking her fingers together in front of her almost flat chest. I felt my voice trail out as I watched her. A strange expression crossed her face. It almost seemed... smug.

"Leann," she said, her voice clipped and clear, "I think it is time you tell your daughter why you are here."

My heart felt as if it had stopped. I had never been able to bring myself to ask my parents what crime had sentenced them to life in Spokane. Every time I let the question form on my lips, I found myself fearing I would hate them after the truth was finally told. That I would see the true monsters they were, the true criminals who deserved this punishment. I knew my parents were odd. But in my own strange way, I did love them. Would that love leave once I knew the truth?

My mother nodded again, then in a soft voice, barely audible, started. "There were three men. I didn't like them. So, I jumped them. Knocked one out. The second I stabbed with a knife. Over. And over." My mother's eyes were glued to her shaking hands. "It... it felt so good. Over. And over."

I could hear the crack in her voice. She paused a moment, then went on. "I couldn't stop stabbing. I wanted to keep stabbing."

"And the third man?" Dr. Eriks asked, her voice cool and expecting.

My mother glanced at my father, then looked back to her hands. "The third man... the third died. Your father killed him. With his hands."

She started to rock back and forth, muttering unknown words under her breath. I couldn't breathe. The words sat on the surface, trying hard to sink in as I battled to fight them away. I let my dry eyes trail over to my father. I searched his face for some hint of denial. There was only pain. A tear trailed down his unshaved face.

Dr. Eriks bore her dull eyes into my mother, the hint of a satisfied grin on her tight face. "And do you regret it at all, Leann? Would you take it back?"

My mother shook her head, her hands shaking in her lap. Though her body shook, her voice came out firm and angry. "No."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the shake that started to grow inside. Dr. Eriks had always taught me that I needed to be the good and the strong. The Nation needed me. Criminals were what destroyed it, criminals like my parents, and it needed the good to make it strong once again.

At that moment, I didn't feel strong at all.

My mother's words still repeated over and over in my mind. I didn't want to believe them. I couldn't see my gentle mother stabbing a man until he was dead. I couldn't let myself accept that she enjoyed it. I couldn't picture my shadow of a father strangling a man with his own hands. But now, as I let my eyes settle on my parents, that was the only picture that formed in my racing mind. My parents were gone.

I felt Dr. Eriks watching me, a small smile spread on her thin lips. She looked almost amused. At that moment, I hated her.

"Is it true?" I begged, hoping it was a lie, a test of some twisted sort.

Lifting her chin, my mother tightened her jaw and fastened her eyes to the ceiling. I could see the glaze threatening to engulf her. Reaching over, my father laid a hand gently on her shoulder. In a soft voice, cracking with tears, he answered with the two words I did not want to hear. "It is."

"Why?" I whispered.

My mother let her eyes finally meet mine. I could see the glaze taking her over. "Because," she said, her voice slightly shaking. "I wanted to. I needed to. I didn't like them. I would have killed the third man too, if he hadn't woken back up and ran away." A small smile curled on her lips a moment, then disappeared as she tore her eyes from mine and leaned her head back again, staring intently at the ceiling.

Nausea boiled through me. The taste of bile rose in my throat and my vision started to blur. I suddenly felt hot. As if someone had lit me on fire then sat back to laugh as I flailed, trying to survive the murderous heat.

"Millie, why do you look angry?"

I slowly rolled my eyes to Dr. Eriks, the hint of a smile still present on her ugly face. I couldn't form words. For some reason, I had always hoped that my parents were here by mistake. Like Orrin. I had hoped they had been wrongly charged and convicted and someday the truth would let out. Then we would all be set free, finally given the chance to live a normal life for the Nation.

That day disappeared before my eyes.

"Millie, do you feel prepared to be released?" Dr. Eriks voice grated at me. It cut through me, the bile still rising in my dry throat.

I let my eyes look back at my parents. My father's eyes were red, his cheeks shining from the tears that now dried in the graying stubble. My mother still had her eyes glued to the ceiling, her body rocking back and forth. I could see her lips moving, muttering something over and over. In the silence of the room, the words floated towards me.

"My baby. My little baby."

Feeling the heat rise, I turned back to Dr. Eriks. "I am ready."

"Very good," she clipped, then let the room fall back to silence as she scribbled notes into her book.

I could see the fog drifting into my vision. My mind started to feel heavy and thick. Instead of fighting it, I welcomed it. I let the fog cover the images that still re-enacted before my tired eyes. The final glimpse of my mother stabbing the man, a smile on her face, faded to nothing as the fog took over. I knew I still sat in the chair. I could feel it firmly holding me to my existence. But my mind, my memories, were now filled with my only release.

I slowly became aware of the creak of my parent's chairs as they rose to leave. I could hear their footsteps as they moved toward the door, the creak as the door opened, the pause as they both waited for something, then reluctantly disappeared.

"...you can leave now." Dr. Eriks' voice bled into my head, nagging and bored.

Without looking at her, I stood and made my way to the door. I felt strange. As if I had no true tie to this place I had called home my entire life. I floated in a numbing limbo, hiding from the hate and questions that hid in the dark corners of my mind.

As soon as I reached the door, I could feel my stomach twist sharply, bile suddenly shooting into my mouth. Gagging, I ran for the small trashcan that the secretary always kept empty next to her desk. My body heaved, emptying the scarce contents of what they called a breakfast into the bottom of the can.

I could hear the protest of the secretary, but ignored it. I didn't care. Heaving again, I fell on my knees and watched the swirls of liquid in the bottom of the now soiled can. I could feel the heat from the vomit drift up to my face, carrying the strong reek of bile and regurgitated food.

Before I could heave again, I pulled my head back and wiped the corner of my mouth with a shaking finger. The secretary stared at me in sheer disgust. I tried to utter an apology, but my throat was too raw.

Please, I thought, please stop looking at me like I am a monster too. I could feel my face burning in embarra.s.sment, the smell inside the can reminding me of what I had just done.

The secretary's face strangely softened. Spinning in her chair, she grabbed something, then stood and moved around the desk to bend down next to me.

I realized she was holding out a thin paper tissue and a small cup of water. My hands shook as I took them from her, gratefully swishing my mouth with the cool water.

"Don't worry about it," she said in a hushed voice. "Not the first or the last time that will happen. Dr. Eriks has... she has a way with people."

I wiped my mouth with the tissue, then let it drop into the trash can. Drinking the last gulp of water, I placed the plastic cup back into the secretary's waiting hand. "Thank you," I managed, my voice coming out tired and rough.

"Here's a mint. Don't want to smell like puke all day." I could feel one hand softly rest on my back. The other held out a small mint, its surface white and speckled with blue. Placing it in my mouth, I felt the rush of spearmint spread over my tongue. "You will be alright. I'm sure of it."

Someone approached from down the hall. The secretary glanced up for a moment before turning back to me. "Here, I called someone to escort you back." The secretary held out a hand and helped me back up to me feet. I wobbled slightly, her hand on my back holding me upright until I had control of my balance again. "You know. Until you are steady. Take it easy, okay?"

I nodded, confused at the sudden kindness of this secretary who had all but ignored me for years. I self-consciously brushed my jeans smooth as I watched her return to her seat. She didn't look at me. She only sighed, then picked up the used book and flipped it back open. It was as if she had never moved.

As I turned, I saw Carl standing in the center of the hallway, a small smile on his face. "Intense session?" he asked.

"You could say that." I started to walk, careful to not b.u.mp into him. He quickly spun and joined me. I could feel his body a mere inch away, the heat threatening to brush against me at any moment. "I'm okay. You don't need to escort me."

"I think I do," he said, his voice closer to me than I liked.

The hallway had more people in it than before. It had to be almost noon now. It was the time of day when inmates flooded the offices for their appointments and treatments. They walked in both directions, some disappearing into random doors while others appeared and joined the lines of white t-shirts. I melted into the line, Carl still close to my side.

"Three more days I hear."

"Yeah."

"Excited?"

The image of my mother briefly flashed before my eyes. Blinking it away, I quickly answered, "More like ready."

Carl chuckled. Something in me flared. I didn't like how he kept staring at me. How he seemed to know too much about me. How he kept grinning and chuckling, as if I were some cute form of entertainment for him. I tried to speed up my pace, but the crowd in front of me blocked my path, keeping Carl glued to my side.

"You know, you can get a job in here."

I almost laughed. "Why would I want to work in here?"

"Oh trust me, there are perks." Carl scanned the crowd around him, his hand resting lightly on the holstered gun. "You don't have to work in the blocks. There are office jobs. Higher up."

"Isn't that where you worked?"

Carl turned his eyes to me, the hint of alarm flashing on his face before it was covered with his usual coolness. "I got bored. There is more incentive down here. For me. But for you..." He scanned me again with those eyes. I suddenly felt naked and vulnerable. "There are many positions that would work for you."

Wrapping my arms tightly around myself, I turned my head forward, focusing on the crowd ahead. I wished it would move faster. It seemed like the harder I wished, the more it slowed. I could feel Carl watching me, his eyes searing me with their mocking stare.

"I think it would be good for you," he said. I didn't answer, keeping my eyes fastened ahead. "I think you should take a job here."

We finally got to the walkway for my block. The crowd dissipated enough to let me quicken my step. Carl sped up, keeping up in stride with me. He waved his hand slightly at the guard waiting by the door. The guard, his hand gripping the scanning device, slowly nodded as we pa.s.sed.

I began to count the cells, my eyes glued to the ground as I pushed toward to my cell. I felt Carl's hand grip my elbow, holding it in a firm clamp. The urge to shake him off grew. I tensed my arm, ready to pull it away from his grasp. Then I remembered: Carl was a guard. If I shook him off, he could take that as resistance to authority. I couldn't risk that.

Carl pulled me to a stop. He stepped behind me, leaning his face close. Keeping my eyes on my cell, now in view, I tried to ignore the feel of his breath on my neck. "Why don't you like me, Millie?"

"What?" I turned my face slightly to look at him. He was leaning close, too close, his breath now on my cheek. "You're a GF. A Guard. I "

"And?" His voice was soft and low, rolling into my ear. I locked eyes with him a moment, his blue eyes chilling my soul. They cut into me, demanding an answer.

I shrugged.

Carl glanced behind us a moment. There were no other people on the walk, the path oddly empty. Moving closer, I felt his body brush mine. "I'm not all that bad, Millie. You just need to let me show you that." Lifting a finger, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

I sucked in a deep breath and turned my head back toward my cell. It called to me, offering me a momentary escape from Carl's warm breath and piercing eyes. I inched forward. A couple, their chatter low and casual, pa.s.sed on the walk. Carl moved away a few feet, standing behind me where I couldn't see him.

"I want to get to know you better," Carl said, his voice rumbling in his throat.

It felt as if the very blood in my veins ran cold. Even those pa.s.sing nearby wouldn't be able to hear him. To them, he was just a guard a.s.sisting me into my cell.

Without lifting my eyes, I muttered a quick "Thank you" and stepped inside. I didn't want him to see the terror in my eyes or the sudden paleness of my face.

"Just think about it, Millie," he said to my back. I didn't move. After a time, I dared a glance over my shoulder. I slowly turned my chin, my back still rigid, my feet still cemented to the ground.

Carl was gone.

6.

I couldn't sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my mother. Blood dripped down her arms, her eyes strangely sharp and focused as the blade glinted in her trembling hands. My eyes would snap open, then slowly drift back shut, only to see Carl's grinning face, his focused eyes as they watched me.

I had already been lying in my bunk when my parents finally crept back into the cell that night. Turning my head slightly, I saw my mother glance up at my bunk. My father moved a step closer, his mouth opening as if he had something to say. Then they both looked away together, my father's shoulders sinking.

Dinner slid under the door. I still didn't move. I listened as my parent's ate in silence. The crunch of the stale bread and slurp of applesauce didn't entice me to ask for my plate. After they rinsed the plates they crawled onto their thin mattress. No one spoke the entire night. Time pa.s.sed and I could hear the light snore of my father as he finally drifted into sleep. A soft, stifled sob escaped my mother, then she too fell silent as night claimed her.

The darkness of the cell didn't help to ease my tense body. As I lay on my back, staring into the dark ceiling above me, I felt completely alone. It wasn't the alone I longed for, the alone that I relished as I dreamed of the open field and blue skies. I felt betrayed. Forgotten. All the years of my parents acting meek and gentle were washed away as I realized, somewhere inside of each of them, they truly were the monsters I had been in denial of. They had killed people, and didn't even regret it.

My eyes burned from staring at the ceiling. I felt as if I were searching for a hole to suck me in and let my disappearance become complete. It never happened. I could still feel the hard bunk beneath me. I could still hear the murmur of the block settling down for another night in this h.e.l.l.

The final buzz of the night cut through the air and the door to the cell quickly snapped shut.

I gave up.

Quietly, I climbed down from the bunk. I knew my parents were asleep, but I didn't want to chance accidentally waking one up. The idea of facing them right now made my stomach churn.

"942, is everything alright?"

I didn't answer. I could hear the shift of feet outside the cell door as the nurses moved closer. Someone wrapped their knuckles on the metal.

"942B?"

"Yeah, we are fine." I glanced at my parents, their snores already rolling from their parted lips. "Just tired."

The pills, nestled in their small cups, were pushed under the door. I could hear the nurses hurry away without another word.

Lying down next to the door, I let the soft glow of the light envelope me. The coolness of the ground felt good on my almost fevered body. I pushed the pill cups away, watching as one tipped over and spilled its two pills across the ground. I didn't move to clean it up. Opening my notebook to a blank page, I froze, staring at its empty lines. The idea of fishing tonight suddenly drained me of any energy I had thought I had.

Footsteps sounded down the walk. I listened to the boots click on the ground, gradually growing louder as they neared my cell. Then the footsteps stopped. I froze, holding my breath. It wasn't against the rules to be out of bed after lights out. That didn't stop the guards from insisting though.

"Millie?"

Letting out my breath in a gush, I felt a smile spread on my face for the first time in hours. "Jude GF4, is that you?" I whispered.

Out of the slit at the bottom of the door I saw a shadow move, then suddenly a face appeared. He smiled at me, his white teeth glowing in the dim light. "Hey there, jail-bird."

Jude was a few years older than me. He had been working night shift at the jail three years now, ever since they had allowed him to don the vest and boots. I had never seen him work day. And to be honest, I was happy about it. Jude didn't seem like a guard to me. He always stopped near the cells where people cried inside, and asked if everything was alright. His smile was real, never full of a hidden agenda.

He was, in my own twisted, strange way, a friend.

"Where have you been?" I asked.