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At the treatment facility, she’d be able to get the help with getting sober and her mental health issues. She suffered gravely from depression. There were times that I even questioned whether or not she had bipolar disorder, but it was so hard to distinguish anything that could potentially be going on with her when she was doing so many drugs.
Drugs fuck everything up.
They take everything until there’s nothing left to take.
I didn’t have much going for me in life, but I had her. And all it took was the drugs to take her from me. Drugs were the root cause behind our problems and they ultimately ended up having me locked behind these bars.
When I was growing up, I always thought that I would either end up dead or in jail. After meeting Ainsley, after falling in love with her, I didn’t want either of those. My expectations for myself and my life were higher, even if I didn’t consciously recognize it at the time.
But, here I am. I ended up exactly where I thought I would all along.
It could be worse though. I could be dead.
Ainsley could be dead.
“Stone.” The corrections officer slides a key into the lock of my cell, turning it to the side. “Get the fuck up. It’s time for you to go.”
Nodding, I stand up from my bed and amble toward the door of the cell. There was nothing in this tiny room for me to take along with me. I wanted to leave this all behind, leave it in the past and move on with my life.
My sentencing was longer than a year. It was two years to be exact, but I was getting out early on good behavior. I struck a plea deal. I would do a shorter sentence with good behavior and agreeing to go into rehab afterward.
I’ve been clean since I’ve been in this place, but because of the drug charges, rehab was something that they threw on the table as an out for me. The lawyer that Raina got me urged me to take the deal, so I did.
I follow the officer through the halls, past the cells of the other unfortunate souls that will remain in here for who knows how long. I was tested so many times while I was in here by these fucking assholes, but I kept to myself. I kept my head down and my temper in check. Somehow, I managed to stay out of any of the bullshit and didn’t get into any fights.
I’m not saying that it was easy by any means, but I was trying to look at the bigger picture. I had to keep reminding myself of what was out there for me. And the sooner that I get out of here, the sooner that I can get my life back together.
Ainsley is the only thing that I see. Whether she wants me in her future or not, she was the driving force behind me getting through my time in jail without getting into any trouble.
Hopefully she was waiting for me on the other side, because she was the only hope that I had left in this fucked up world.
TWO
KILLIAN
My transport to the treatment facility was effortless. I was under the impression that Raina was going to take me. She had been my lifeline the entire time that I was in jail. I wasn’t able to talk to Ainsley, so Raina was the closest that I could get to her.
There was a brief moment of disappointment when I saw an unfamiliar man waiting for me outside of the prison. He was my court appointed parole officer, since I was released on parole for five years. I don’t know the specifics behind it or if they saw me as some kind of a flight risk, but since he was my parole officer, he was in charge of getting me to the treatment center.
He got me there in one piece, thankfully. After everything that I’ve been through, I was surprised that the universe didn’t throw me a fucking curve ball and have us get in an accident and me not even make it there alive.
That’s just the pessimistic part of my mind that’s been clouding my thoughts. It’s always been there, usually consuming any positivity that threatened to enter my mind. In prison, I tried hard to change my mindset. I tried to look at the positives and anything that could help lift my mood.
It was all fucked. My mind was just as fucked as the next person.
Maybe being in rehab will be good for me too. The prison system doesn’t have much to offer for inmates. They have bullshit group meetings that you go to. They made me go to all of the NA meetings and group therapies, but they didn’t do shit.
I had so much childhood trauma and past issues that I needed to work on and to be honest, it didn’t seem like the therapists and social workers in the prison really gave a shit. It was hard to take it seriously anyway, with the amount of drugs that flow through the halls of the prison. Everything and everyone there is fucking corrupt.
“I’ll be checking in with you weekly,” Travis, my parole officer, informs me as we walk up the front steps leading to the cabin-like building of the treatment facility. “I’m sure you know that we have to do drug tests, but I don’t know how necessary that will be with you being in a rehab anyway.”
I give him a sideways glance. “I didn’t touch a single drug in prison and that was with them in my face every fucking day. Do you really think that I’m going to have access to anything while I’m in here?”
He shrugs. “People have their ways. But I do know that they drug test here too, just to make sure that no one is slipping up.” He pauses, opening the door for me. “You’re a different case than most of the patients here anyway. You being here was court ordered. Anyone who is in a treatment facility voluntarily can split whenever they want. If you even try some shit and leave here, your ass will be behind bars faster than you can say boo.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him honestly, stepping into the main room of the building. “Believe it or not, I would like to get my shit together and my life back in order.”
Travis looks at me with a thoughtful look in his eye. “You’re different than most people that I end up having to deal with. I’m not saying that I trust you, because I don’t know you from a stranger on the street, but I have no reason not to trust you.”
