Abby walked through the sullen, dingy corridors of the Melrose Jail. The darkness pervaded in the boundless hallways, with the eerie banging sounds of the functioning, but dead facility. The spirits of the prisoners, gone, and only left with a deadly bitterness that was contagious to anyone who had the “pleasure” of striding through these hollow halls.The guards walked a couple steps ahead of her. She wished they weren’t there. Their flamboyant, glistening keys clinked at their side, calling attention to their company. Whenever they shot a glance at her, she shivered, panicked. It was like they were happy that she was somehow still alive. She remembered the guard condescendingly telling her to not get too close to the rusting bars of the prison, telling her that a delicate thing like her could be snapped in half. The guards, or the jail bars gave her absolutely no comfort. If anything, she felt as if with the guards near her, the prisoners only despised her presence. She became an enemy to the prisoners hiding in their dark cells. They continued walking across the beige floors, a gross color, stained with spots of blood and dirt. The walls were rusting, and the paint was chipping off, creating a lumpish look. Her heart was beating fast, marching around her body, and creating a splitting pain in her head. The air must have had some miniscule particles of debris, leaving her debilitated.

The guards took her through a large labyrinth of steel bars, and hollering prisoners buried in the dark. Amy was desperate to sit down, take a breath, interpret this unusual world she was seeing. Amy didn’t say anything though, afraid that her voice may cause a disturbance in the silence that was so ominous. The prisoners didn’t scare her so much as did the silence between them, their unusual mannerisms, and dull expressions from being held in captivity. The guards abruptly took a left, and Abby was so involved in her thoughts she forgot to pay attention.

The young, female guard, considerably short compared to the male guard, with prominent dark black eyes looked at her with intensely.

“Hey, young girl, wanna get killed? Watch where you’re going. We’re almost there.”

Amy, disconcerted, kept walking. She wanted to seem as if she was mature enough to be there, to handle the horrid sights that could be imminent.

The guards lead her through a wide hallway, and the jail bars dispersed behind her. She was there quicker than she thought. A wave of panic hit her suddenly, a consciousness of reality. Her cheeks became hot, and a punch of heat zig-zagged up her body. Her footsteps slowly led her to a large door with criss-cross pieces of metal embedded on the tinted window.

The female guard stepped in front of her, blocking her view, and ruining the moment.

“Look here, this woman- your mother, shes a class C prisoner. All we ask is that you be careful. Even though she is sealed behind doors, you still have a major potential of getting hurt. Don’t do anything stupid, you understand?”

“I assure you, I’ll be fine.” Amy said this with annoyance, knowing that her mother was not some sort of monster who was hopeless. THEY made her this way. Anything she ever did was out of fear out of them.

A red chair was laid out in front of a large, thick glass window. Metal criss-crossed against the edges of the glass, making it impossible to break. A shiny, black phone was glued on the side, ready to be picked up by Amy’s sweating hands.

Amy had not seen her mother in an excruciating amount of months. She had mentally prepared a speech, painstakingly revising it everyday. Though she always had the doubt that she would ever see her mother again, she persisted, praying everyday that she would see her blonde hair, and blue eyes that had once looked in to hers. Her strong hands that had once fed her and clothed her, but would now be out of practice. Amy sat down on the awkwardly small chair, resting her quivering elbows on the uncomfortable hand rests on either side. She sat there looking at the glass where behind it, her mother would soon materialize.

The gray, metal door beeped loudly two times before a woman walked out on the other side of the glass. Her face had a pleasant feminine shape, curving like a heart. Her skin, was sagging. She was barely blonde, with multiple chestnut streaks inched through her hair. Her orange jumpsuit buried her dull, lifeless blue eyes that had evidence of losing their striking color. Her hands, once firm, were dainty, and frail, capable of breaking. She was thin. Really thin.

Unable to conceal the fear she was feeling, despite her aggravating tries, Amy knew she was looking childish and horrified. With shaking hands, she picked up the slippery phone with her wildly shaking hands. Though she had been close to her mother for several years, it also took several years for her to be able to see her mother.

Her mother, probably nervous too, mirrored her, grabbing the black phone at her side.

For a second, there was an awkward silence. Everything in Amy’s mind had sprinted away, all of her countless hours of rehearsing in her room, and staying up at night just imagining. She swallowed, her spit running dry and barely making it through her aching lump that was stagnant in her throat.

“Amy.” Her beautiful voice penetrated the silence, and meant so much even though she only uttered a single word.

Laughing a little with a tear on her face, Amy said, “Mom.”

They both laughed a longer than necessary, unable to explain why.

“My, you’ve grown. You’re beautiful. “

Amy smiled, the sides of her mouth curving up, concentrating on her mother’s voice that would soon only become a memory.

“Darling, I- I want you to know that I miss you. I miss you so so much.”

Her frail hands lifted up on the glass, and waved across where her cheek would have been. Though the vexatious glass was split between them, Amy could feel her hot skin touching hers. The guard beamed a sharp glance at us, forcing her to put the hand down the cool glass.

“I miss you too, mom.”

“How are you doing? Is Jenny taking care of you?”

“Yes, yes mom. I’m fine. And Jenny’s great.”

“Good. Hey- I want you to know that I’m gonna be okay. You concentrate on your school, and don’t get in to trouble. You don’t want to end up like your old woman, now do you?”

Amy shaked her head, with hot tears streaming down her face.

“Don’t worry, I’m doing great in school. Not getting in to trouble, and I’m gonna make it into college. I’m gonna get you out of here, I promise.”

Her mother’s eyes filled up with tears, as she looked intently at her face.

“Oh, I’m so proud of you. But, honey, I don’t think I’m getting out of here soon. Murder is quite the monster. It’s gonna chase me for years to come, maybe my whole life.”

Amy’s eyes darted from side to side trying to comprehend what her mom had just said. These words had woken her up from a dream that one day she would actually be able to writhe through these walls, and fall into the arms of her real mother.

“No, NO. I’m gonna get you out. You had to do it. You did that years ago-”

“Yeah well, it doesn’t matter. By the state of Arizona, I’m considered a class C prisoner. I have to serve at least 30 years, you know that. Amy, the sooner you accept that I’m not getting out the better it will be for you.”

Amy’s heart was beating face, and her face was hot, red with a little bit of anger. All she wanted was to get out of these oppressive walls, get rid of these senseless guards who couldn’t possibly ever understand, and take her mother far, far away. With the guards lurking behind her, hearing every word that was forbidden to them, and throwing dirty glances at her mother, she wanted to scream at them. Scream at them for judging her on something they couldn’t ever understand.

“Amy, you’re gonna be okay.”

“Well, what about you? You’re left in this stupid place.”

“It’s better than being on the run. And serving my time will be easier now that I know you are doing great in school, and that Jenny’s with you. Okay?”

Amy sighed, and nodded her head, smiling at her mother.

“You done, Ms. Sanders?” The woman guard stepped beside Amy, keeping an eye on my mother. The question irritated Amy. Of course she wasn’t done. She didn’t want to be.

“Just give me another minute!” The guard slowly walked away, annoyed.

Amy turned back to her mother, savoring what little time would be left.

“Time’s up apparently. I still have so much to say to you!”

Amy’s mother just smiled, unsure of what to say. Little did Amy know that she felt horrible inside, deprived of her right of being a mother, resentful at herself for leading the life that she did, despite the cruel unfairness she had encountered.

“I love you. Amy, please, take care!”

“I love you too.”

“Natalie, time to go back.” The guard grabbed her mother by the arm, and dragged her away, while her mother kept her eyes stuck on Amy.

Amy took one last glance at her mother, before retrieving to the gloomy halls of the prison, and crying silently.


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Chapter 2

I laid soundlessly on a stiff bed that made my back ache, my book laying adjacent to me. I glanced up at my crappy watch that never seemed to work, and always lost it strength to fall obtrusively on the peeling floor. It was almost 1 A.M. I got up, putting my Hemingway book away, For Whom the Bell Tolls, on my miniscule shelf. My eyes darted from book to book, in terrible conditions, insolently overused. I grabbed The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, probably for the 50th time, flipping the diminishing cover over to the first page. Aunt Polly pulled her spectacles down, and was looking for Tom. It reminded me, that it would probably be another hour, or maybe hours until dad came home, drunk from his vigorous outings, doing god knows what, not remembering my face. I sighed, realizing that I was ravenous. I fled down the narrow stairs, with creaking wood that was in extensive need of repair. I opened our dysfunctional refrigerator, that never did any good except take up an unnecessary amount of space in our already cramped home. Of course, there was nothing. I climbed back upstairs, ignoring the cries of my needy stomach.