Falling For An Inmate

Chapter 30: Tomorrow

CHAPTER 30

Arya Crawford

After my session with Arthur, I sat on the table with a heaviness in my chest that I couldn't seem to breathe out, staring at the list of rules printed in bullet points on the sheet of paper, placed in front of me.

I had been mulling over my decision for the last few days. The seed had been planted nearly three weeks ago during the altercation between Carter and Spencer, but the solid tree of understanding had sprouted just recently. The understanding of what I was feeling and what I had to do to rectify it.

I had come to a decision only hours after seeing Cater released from Ad Seg. I had churned the decision over in my mind for nearly four days now, thinking it over, making sure it was the right thing to do, making sure it was something I wanted to do. But quite frankly, it was something I didn't want to do. Not at all. But I was old enough to know the difference between wanting something and needing something. And though what I was about to do was not something I wanted at all, it was something I had to do. Something I needed to do.

I had finally been able to label the feelings I had been feeling the past few weeks. In labelling them, I had been able to understand them. And in understanding them, I knew how to deal with them. I had finally understood why I had felt fear at the thought of Carter. I understood the shift that had taken place inside me.

I had come to the realization that I was afraid of what Carter was capable of. I know he had done it for me, but what I witnessed that day in the shed, suddenly unveiled the violent capability he had. And my past experience with violence had left me quaking in my shoes, till date. I was just afraid of that capability, that capacity to inflict such physical pain, to indulge in such violence.

Deep down, was I actually afraid of Carter hurting me that way, of inflicting that kind of pain on me someday? Maybe I was. And maybe the argument I would get is that everyone has that capability towards violence. And maybe everybody does, but witnessing it firsthand just made it all the more real and terrifying. Seeing the carnage he left in his wake made something inside me switch off, and I knew in that moment that I was too afraid of that possibility of violence towards myself. I knew he was a good man, but I just couldn't uproot the seed of fear that had rooted itself in my mind.

I had come to fear the very man my heart ached for. And in this short sentence, resided my two reasons. The two reasons that made it feel like what I was about to do was the best for my mental health.

Refocusing on the rule sheet in front of me, I noticed how crumpled it was. I traced every crease in the paper and fidgeted with the tiny rip at the bottom. I had broken seven out of the ten rules printed on that sheet of paper, and by the end of the day I would have broken the remaining three. For about the twenty-third time I read over the rules again, one by one, skipping the ones I had yet to tick as broken. With each broken rule, I recalled how I had broken it.

Rule number 2: Be accompanied by a Correctional Officer at all times.

I thought about all the times I had strutted about the prison without a CO, sometimes with Megan, sometimes alone. It had been a simple rule to break.

Rule number 3: Inform a Correctional Officer before going anywhere.

The only rule simpler than rule number 2, was this one. I don't think I ever once informed a CO where I was going. This had been the simplest rule to break.

Rule number 4: Do not enter the Records Room, unless asked otherwise.

Going into the Records Room the first time wasn't breaking the rules because Uncle Gordon had asked me to place a file in there. But going into the Records Room a second time was definitely breaking the rules because I was supposed to have returned the door key by then.