Chapter 4: As Free As A Bird

Delaney

Seven Years Later

An officer knocks on the metal bars with his bat and I look up from the book I'm reading.

"Time to go," he simply tells me.

"Where?" I ask. He doesn't answer me; he just unlocks the door. The metallic sound of it opening fills my ears. I put my book down and he shakes his head.

"Bring everything you own with you," he informs me. "We've received a court order for your release."

My eyes widen and for a moment, I lose the ability to breathe. This can't be. I'm being released? Today?

"Hurry up, Waters," the officer grumbles. "I don't have all day."

I gather my things in my arms quickly before deciding to use my pillowcase as a makeshift bag. I don't have much; just books, deodorant that I traded for a book, a pack of cigarettes that I've started smoking in here, and a lighter. There's also the piece of paper that Paola left for me on the day she was released, which was a month ago. It's states her address and a phone number I can reach her with. We became very close in here, and I can say that she's my best friend. She's the only friend I've ever had, and when she was released, I was happy for her but a part of me ached.

I thought I had three more years to go. This is all new and unexpected to me. For some reason, I can't seem to process this the way I should. I'm too shocked. 

I follow the officer through the prison, my heart slamming against the base of my throat. My mouth is very dry all of a sudden, both with nerves and fear.

Doors are unlocked for me to pass through, and with each step, I start to feel like a new woman. I'm not the person I was when I was first locked up. I've grown older, maybe wiser. I've changed a lot.

But the world hasn't, and that's my biggest problem with it.

I reach a room where a female officer asks me to accompany her. The one who escorted me here stays behind. We head into a locker room and she hands me my old stuff, which is basically my school uniform and some of the things I had in my pockets. It's all junk and I won't be needing them. I tell her this and she shakes her head.

"There's something else," she says. "A special package arrived for you right with the documents concerning your release."

Out of the locker, she removes a large brown envelope. She hands it to me and says, "I'll leave you alone for three minutes tops. Then, I'll come and escort you out of the premises."

"Can I make a phone call?" I ask her. "I didn't prepare for this at all. I need to call someone to pick me up."

She nods and leaves the room. I sit on one of the wooden benches lining the wall and stare at my belongings. The clear plastic bag is on my lap. Tears fill my eyes at the sight of it.

I remove my uniform from the bag and stare at the skirt and the white shirt. I smell them and can't detect the smell of the cheap pineapple shower gel I used to wear. Right on the edge of the skirt, I see a brownish stain that I can only associate with blood. I never realized that I got Trevor's blood on my skirt until now.

I shove it back in the bag and decide to check the contents of the envelope. For some reason, my hands are clammy. I don't remember feeling this nervous in a very long time. For the most part, my days have been boring and uneventful, especially after Paola left.

I find a few things inside the envelope that are shocking, to say the least. This day has been so insane and out-of-character for me that I'm not even sure if it's real anymore. Maybe I'm dreaming.

There's a folded up letter that's been typed. It has no address and it isn't signed. It simply says:

'Within this envelope, you'll find your new identity. From now on, you're no longer Delaney Waters but Antonella Gambini. There's more than enough money for you to travel out of the country and start a new life elsewhere.

If you don't leave, you'll be killed.'

The money the letter is referring to is in a separate envelope. There are two ten thousand dollar bundles. Yes, this would be enough for me to travel somewhere else and start a new life, as suggested.

But I still haven't been able to move forward from the threat.

I'll be killed? Why? By whom?

I served my time, and the worst part is that I was punished for a crime I never even committed. How is it that I can't live life on my own terms?

Who sent these things?

A rough knock on the door interrupts my train of thought and makes my heart skip a beat. I shove the letter, the money envelope, and my new identification documents inside the brown paper bag and stand just as the door opens.

The female officer tells me, "You have one call."

I nod and follow her to a reception-like area. I pull out the paper Paola gave me and dial the number, hoping and praying that she'll pick up.

Someone else does. A man.

"Who's this?"

I clear my throat. "I'm looking for Paola? I'm a friend of hers."

"Friend? Friend from where?"

I hesitate to say the word, but then it slips out of me. "Prison."

I hear some background noise but it's muffled. Then, a breathless and very familiar voice says to me, "Delaney? Is that you?"

I start tearing up. "Yeah. I'm out."

"What?"

"I'm out," I repeat before sniffling. "I need a ride, that's why I called. I'm out, Paola."

She gasps and sounds genuinely shocked. "How!?"

"I don't know," I reveal, which is the truth. I have no idea why I was released earlier. If I had to guess, I'd say that it's because of my good behavior. I graduated while in prison. I've never gotten into fights and I've always tried my best.

"Shit, okay," she says. "I'm on my way. I'll be there in like...forty-five minutes? That's the best I can do. We're pretty far away from that shithole."

"Okay. That's perfectly fine. I'll wait."

"We'll talk more when I get there," she promises before hanging up.

After the phone call, the officer takes me outside. When she opens the heavy metal doors to let me out in the courtyard, I almost cry. Almost. We keep walking until we reach the high gates. There are watchtowers on either side of it, and the security guards all look at me as I walk past. They’re silent.

When the gates open, the officer turns around to look at me. Her hands remain at her hips. “Good luck out there, Waters.”

“Thanks,” I say in a low voice. It cracks right at the end.

I step outside and this overwhelming sense of freedom hits me from out of nowhere. I keep walking down the lonely parking lot, unsure of where I’m going. For a moment, this paranoia hits me. I feel like I’ll never leave this place alive. Maybe this is all a setup. Maybe I’m meant to die. But nothing happens. I just keep walking, my head feeling like it’s stuffed with cotton candy.

I’m free. After seven years, I’m finally free.

I start to cry. Life is completely unpredictable because when I woke up today, I never thought that I would be set free. It’s such a powerful feeling. Freedom. I won’t be obliged to head into my cell at the end of the day and endure lights out. I’ve always hated the dark. I won’t have to eat the same bland food and take a shower without any privacy.

I’m free. I’m out.

I sit down on the sidewalk while clutching everything I own to my chest. I wait for Paola. I know she’ll come. The waiting time is long, but she’ll come. I trust her to show up more than I do my own mother. It never even crossed my mind to give her a call.

Seven years and she never visited me once. No one did.

An old Ford model pulls into the parking lot, and sitting in the passenger’s seat is Paola. I stand up and she practically leaps out of the car with a squeal. She’s wearing a black leather jacket and tights, and her heels are clicking against the sidewalk.

“Delaney!” she exclaims.

We crash into each other and embrace for the longest time. That’s when my tears start to fall. She holds me as I cry, feeling so many things at once.

“It’s okay,” she says soothingly. “I cried, too. It’s okay.”

Only, it’s not okay, and I’m afraid of things never being okay. I pull back and peer into her face. She smiles back at me and says, “You’re free, baby. As free as a bird.”

“I don’t even know what to do,” I admit. “I feel so lost.”

“You’ll come back with us,” she says. “Once you’re in a safe place, you’ll know what to do. Come on. Let’s go.”

We walk toward the car and I see the driver standing with his back against the vehicle, a cigarette dangling between his lips.

I realize that his face is familiar to me, and when I search my memory, I recognize him as the man I saw outside the courtroom on the day I was imprisoned.

“Delaney, meet my brother, Pollux,” Paola introduces.