Mistakebound - YBXVON

Chapter 2: Last day

The clinking sound of keys echoed through the hallway, and I felt the vibrations in the ground as the heavy doors were unlocked by the guards.

I sat in the corner, my knees tucked, head laid on them, dozing off and thinking about tomorrow-it was the last meal of the day.

Maya shared the same cell as me, although occasionally the guards shuffled her around, probably to minimize the noise we made talking about funny stuff. She was the reason I'd been smoking weed since I got into prison, being the most known drug dealer around. Sometimes I'd ask for some, and she'd hand it over for free. I couldn't entirely blame her; she'd made thousands doing this.

But leaving Maya behind meant leaving behind someone who'd helped me through so much. I yearned to be free after years of being caged like a bird, but it also meant saying goodbye to Maya and finding a place to live or work.

My family hadn't visited since I'd been locked up. I was sure my dad disowned me without hearing my side of the story. No calls from him, not once, and my mom remained silent too. I missed my little brother, but my parents severed all ties.

Flinching at the sound of the loud door being unlocked, I shook off my thoughts and stood up, glancing over at Maya sleeping with her mouth open. I chuckled to myself; she'd always been a heavy sleeper.

"Maya, wake your ass up," I said, shaking her wildly. The door opened, guards peering in.

"Come on, it's dinner time. Hurry up!" The other guard screamed from the back.

Maya rubbed her eyes, letting out a loud yawn as she stretched.

"Just 5 minutes, please, and I'll be there," she mumbled. I shook my head; she always said the same but never stuck to it. Five minutes turned into 10, 10 into 30, and then an hour. Still, I tried to wake her, shaking her.

"Girl, wake your ass up, or they're going to drag you by feet," I warned, remembering the comical yet slightly pitiful incident from the past.

I could still vividly remember the sight of Maya, deep in slumber, being unceremoniously hauled by the guards, her feet skimming the floor as she was dragged to the mess hall. It had drawn laughter from some inmates, a brief moment of amusement in the otherwise somber routine of prison life.

As I tried to shake her awake, I couldn't help but think about Maya's struggles. It wasn't just about the dragging incident; it was a manifestation of the toll her choices had taken on her.

She did too much, especially substances that had left visible marks on her well-being. The fatigue, the slow responses, and the occasional moments of disorientation-all consequences of a lifestyle that demanded a heavy price.

While the scene might have seemed humorous, a part of me felt genuine concern for Maya. Beneath her carefree demeanor was a person battling her own demons.

As much as I enjoyed the banter and friendship we shared, there was an underlying worry about the long-term effects of her choices. In that moment, as I tried to rouse her from her deep sleep, I couldn't shake the feeling of sympathy mixed with a tinge of sadness for my friend who seemed caught in a cycle of self-destructive behavior.

"If she doesn't come willingly, we'll have to drag her by the hands this time," the guard warned, with a serious expression on.

"Alright, not too much, bald head. I'm coming," she said, getting up lazily.

We were guided to the dinner room, and Maya got left behind due to her slow steps. The guards pushed her forward, and she stomped toward us, hands in her pockets, looking down.

Despite the disruption of her sleep, she has always maintained a jolly and happy demeanor. I didn't know what was going on with her.

We were sitting around the round table - Maya, me, and Ava. Ava had always been Maya's favorite client, constantly buying from her, and likely the reason Maya had a stash of thousands tucked under her bed. Ava, munching on a chicken wing, broke the silence, "So, you'll be freed tomorrow, huh?"