UNFORGIVENESS

𝖲𝖤𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖣 𝖣𝖤𝖦𝖱𝖤𝖤

Chino Federal Prison for Women.

🅣🅘🅚🅘

I stood in my 6 x 8-foot cell, carefully packing my possessions into the plastic bag provided by the guards, a stark reminder of my status as a long-serving inmate. Unlike some of the other inmates I'd watched leave over the years, who were given plastic storage boxes, I didn't have enough belongings to warrant such a thing. I placed my toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, notepad, and pen into the bag, along with my most precious item - a crumpled photograph of my 6-month-old son and his father. I swallowed the tears that threatened to fall as I stared at their faces.

I've been in love with Jackson Teller since I was sixteen years old. He was the son of the president of the biker club my dad joined before my older brother Koa was born. I had probably loved Jax earlier than that. I have never known myself without him, having grown up with him and the other kids of SAMCRO. Dawn and Fawn are Tig's twin daughters. Opie, Piney's son, and my brother Koa were all close growing up. Myself, Opie, and Jax were born a few months apart, and Koa and the twins were three years older than us. Koa and the twins wouldn't let me hang out with them, so I gravitated toward Opie and Jax, and even though I was a girl, the two boys became my best friends. The year I turned fifteen, boys in school seemed to become aware of me, but I didn't take particular notice until that summer when David Hale asked me on a date to Betsy's dinner for a milkshake. The date went well, and I started to spend more time with David. Jax got moody and started dating the new girl in town. A swotty brat called Tara. I hated the stuck-up cow. David would give me his sole attention, while Jax started to ignore my mere presence. I found myself wondering what Jax was doing on his dates with Tara and not caring about what David and I were doing. After a few weeks, David and I soon fizzled out into nothingness.

A few weeks after Tara and Jax split up, there was a very public blazing row on the bleachers because the new posh girl didn't approve of Jax lighting a blunt up. As if a wannabe biker didn't smoke weed. Tara was on a different planet than all of us SAMCRO kids, always telling Jax what he should and shouldn't be doing. I never understood how she gained Jackson Teller's attention.

It was the year the three of us turned sixteen that we took our paths. Opie met Donna, a small brunette who started a Saturday job at Floyd's Barbers. He went in for a rare haircut, and the rest was history; the big guy was head over heels. It wasn't until Opie and Jax's Prospect party that things shifted between Jax and myself. I went dressed in a pair of high-waisted skinny jeans, strappy high heels, and a black lace tight-fitted top that was fair to sexy for a sixteen-year-old to be wearing, but I had figured if my best friends could wear the prospect kutte, I could wear what I wanted. Jax's blue eyes locked with my brown ones as soon as I entered the clubhouse, and he swaggered over to me and stayed beside me all night. Every time another male came near me, he would wrap an arm around me. He was only short of peeing up my leg to stake his claim, and I loved the feeling that gave me. We kissed that night while standing on the roof of the clubhouse, and that was that. I was Jackson Teller's girl, and I stayed his girl through school and when he got his full patch. From that night on, we were known to be off-limits to others. I got his crow on my forearm, and Jax got my name tattooed on his. I was his, and he was mine. We both became mechanics at TM and excelled at doing custom jobs; Jax and Opie worked on builds, and I did airbrushing and painting. It worked; all three of us were brilliant at our jobs and brought ligament money into TM and the MC.