Behind Bars | rosekook

01 | BB

"OUT of all the places you could have picked, you've chosen to do your work practice in a state prison for men?" The affable cabdriver wonders, as his curious eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.

"Yes," I breathe out as I stare out of the window on my right side, noticing how we've entered a quiet, undisturbed piece of land, "I have indeed chosen to do it there and honestly, I'm not sure what I was thinking when I did so. Sometimes I feel like it supports what I believe in but sometimes I keep thinking it was just a quite reckless and last-minute decision."

"Actually," He interrupts as he turns left, not taking his eyes of the road this time. "I feel like it shows how brave and how dedicated you are towards your study. your visions and hope for people who have been outcasted by the world by possibly making a single mistake."

"My visions?" I ask myself more than anyone else and need a few minutes to think about that, gazing around and taking in my unknown surroundings.

"We all have our own," he shrugs and continues to speak about his as he notices how I've gotten eager to hear more, "It's what we believe in. What we're willing to work our asses off for. I may look like an old man, which I obviously am," he adds jokingly, "but even I am still working for my visions, my goals. Being a cabdriver is just for the money that I need to help turning my visions into my reality. The visions I've set for myself way back when I was still locked up from the world."

I eye the harmless man behind the steering wheel as an urge to know more about this friendly man's story rakes through me.

"You went to jail?" I can't help but surprise myself by bluntly asking him.

He chuckles as he makes another turn, "You wouldn't say that, huh?"

I slightly nod, "I would have never thought so."

Quickly tying my hair into something that turns out in a somewhat messy bun, I continue to explain myself.

"It's not a bad thing though. I don't think everyone who goes to jail or gets arrested for a simple crime, needs to be labeled as bad. We all makes mistakes and that's what makes us human. We were created to make mistakes, work to receive second chances from people and ask for forgiveness from none other than God. And to me, giving second chances as the victims is what keeps us humane. Ofcourse, depending on the crime." I do not hesitate to add the last part, truly aware that some actions cannot and will not be forgiven.

The cabdriver does not respond as he proceeds to listen with a faint smile playing on his friendly features, his eyes slightly wrinkling at the corners.

"I actually hate the idea of not granting people with second chances. I mean, someone could be sitting a jailtime of a few years and get out as a better, greater man but thanks to our society, they end up not being able to become a better person for a lifetime. They get forced into becoming someone they promised not to become while being imprisoned but the prejudicing and cutting off opportunities, pushes them towards the bad side again." I ramble on as my eyes fall upon the grey building, surrounded by fences.

"So after all, I'm glad I chose this place. It will be quite the challenge, considering I'm young and apparently naive, as my dad reminded me of when I kept on begging to do my work practice in this prison." A sad smile taints my lips. "However, I think I can handle it."

The car comes to a stop in the parking lot and the cabdriver turns to his right to face me. "You know what this old man thinks? He thinks that with those visions of yours, you're going to make great changes."

I can't help but grin back at him as I try to go unnoticed while handing him a little more money than I am supposed to. "I hope so. I hope you get where you want to get, and I hope to be as hardworking as you one day, sir."

The moment he nods and tells me that I can always call him when I need a drive, I take that as my que to get out. Straightening my clothes, I take a few strides to reach the entrance and walk in.

Brave.

Dedicated.

Great changes.

Repeating the upbeating words several times in my chaotic mind, I feel a slight ache gnarling inside of me.

Isn't it sad how a complete stranger can give me an entire boost of positive energy just like that, when my father, the person who is supposed to be my strength and inspiration, is the person who completely drains my motivation and my will to keep on pushing?

A small sigh falls from my lips and as someone pulls me out of my thoughts by trying to cough subtly, I instantly turn towards the source of the voice.

"You look kinda lost." A soft yet gruff voice speaks as I'm met with a pair of amber stranger eyes. "So I'm guessing you're the new girl everyone's been talking about?"

Vaguely blushing, and with a small nod i replied "I don't think I'm supposed to feel like I'm the new girl in a high school, am I?"

A grin spreads across the still unknown young man's face, having me wonder how young and near my age he actually is.

"Sounds way more comforting than being the new girl in a prison, doesn't it?" He jokes while extending a hand for me to shake.

I take ahold of his hand for the sake of being friendly as well and shake it for a mere second. "Park Chaeyoung. I think you might know my dad?" I introduce myself and let go quickly after.

"Umm- Kim Taehyung" he informs me, "And indeed, I do know him since we work together. Which, I must say, makes me sound so old, which I am absolutely not," he includes dramatically, "But yes, I guess I'm seeing a slight resemblance between father and daughter."

Slight.

Shrugging off the comment of me kind of resembling my dad, which I need to disagree to, I let my curious eyes do their thing.

"C'mon," he speaks as he turns towards the way we're probably going to head to. "Let me introduce you to the rest of the crew, and make you realize you're totally not in high school anymore."

Joining to walk along with him, I shoot him a questioning glare.

"Lots of old people." He silently whispers, causing yet another chuckle to escape and ease the nerve-wrecking tension in the air. "And by a lot, I mean, every single one of them."

"I think I can handle it though, the old people." I whisper the last few words just like he did, receiving a youthful smile.

Opening the door of what I assume must be the canteen for the guards, he lets me walk in first, making me cringe right away as everyone's wondering eyes find me in a second.

I awkwardly wave and watch as my dad walks over to me.

Even though I've been through weeks of mentally preparing myself, I feel like it will be not enough for how he will probably introduce me to every single person as his "gorgeous daughter" and "only pride."

It forces me to realize that these upcoming 6 months are most likely going to be nothing more than pure torture.

It won't be just a story of me surviving through the torture that is life.

It will be a torture laced with an unsolved mystery and the transcendent beauty of finding your other half when you least expect it; behind bars.