Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
The man is cryptic as fuck, but I think I understand what he’s saying. My journey wrongly put me in a place where I could do a good thing for him, and he could do a good thing for me. I’d do a lot of things to get back the years I spent in Blackstone. A lot. But I wouldn’t give up Lory. If I had to do the time as the only way to find her, it was worth it. She’s my destination.
I’m getting released early because Grady put in a request on account of my good behavior and participation in educational programs. According to him, I’m rehabilitated. A changed man.
The truth is, I came into prison innocent of the crime I was convicted of, and I leave guilty of a worse one I’ll never face charges for. Make that make sense.
“Bella’s a sweet little thing,” he says, his throat catching. “She’s okay now.”
“That’s good.” Whether it’s true that his niece is okay, I’ll never know. Who goes through something so terrible as a child and comes out without permanent scars? Look at Hyde, for fuck’s sake. The man’s been shattered by his experiences, but he’s living, and he’s found a love that is keeping him on the right track.
“Have a good life, Colton,” he says as parting words.
It’s been a while since anyone called me by my given name, and, like a change of skin, I’m new. Rock is a name I’ve worn while I’ve had to wear armor against the world. Colton has a chance of being a better man.
“That’s all I want to do.”
***
A woman waits by a red minivan as I squint my eyes into the sunshine. When the gates slide open, I want to drop to my knees with relief, but I keep myself upright, wanting to preserve my dignity. She raises her hand, and I blink, uncertain. There’s something familiar about her dark hair and owlish eyes that I can’t quite put my finger on. When I get closer, she holds out her hand. “I’m Kennedy.”
Of course. Lory’s sister.
“She sent you?”
“I’ve got something to give you.”
She hands me a small bag, which I open. Inside is a change of clothes, some basic supplies, a cell phone, and a bundle of cash. Everything I need to get me where I need to go. “Is she okay?” I ask.
“Better than okay.” She smiles, and it’s so much like Lory that my heart skips a beat.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks to my sister. She told me what she did. She told me you were good to her. I never would have wanted her to do something like that.”
“That’s Lory, though. She’s selfless like that.”
“She is.”
“She did a good thing of her own free will. You shouldn’t feel bad about that.”
“She’s happy,” she says. “She’ll be happier when she sees you.”
I nod, knowing it’s the truth.
In her last letter, she told me she was waiting to have my hands on her again. Waiting to kiss me. Waiting to get on her knees for me. Her words gave me power and the will to get through the last week of my incarceration.
“Will you visit?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Then we’ll have a chance to get to know each other.”
She nods. “I’d like that. I’ll give you a ride into town.”
“Thanks.”
I’m free, but I’ve got a long way to go to fully let go of the shackles.
***
I’ve never traveled outside of the US before, so experiencing a different culture, listening to a different language, and eating different food is all new. I’m a fish out of water, kind of the same way I felt when I was first sent to Blackstone, except this is exciting, and I’m not overwhelmed by a tsunami wave of doom like I was back then.
As much as I wanted to get to the little town that Kinkaid, Lory, and Hyde have been living in for months, I was released on a Sunday, and there was no way I was going to make the journey in two days, so I’ve taken some time to soak up what it is to be free and in Mexico. I’ve stayed in tiny hotels and eaten in restaurants surrounded by only local people. I’ve tried strange foods and different beers, and I’ve slept restlessly, as eager for the end of my journey as I’m enjoying the steps to get there.
On the second Tuesday of my freedom, I’m at the Monument by 1 p.m., so eager to find my brothers and my girl, I can’t wait another second. I brought a book about Mexico, picked up along my travels, and read in the shade, wiping sweat from my brow and guzzling the water I packed in my bag. But by 2:50, the words swim on the page, and I close the book and stretch out in the sun, scanning the area for a familiar face. A part of me keeps wondering if no one will show up, despite knowing I’m being stupid—they went to the trouble of sending Kennedy with a package for me. But when you want something this much, it’s hard to believe it’ll happen.