15
Raine
Ialmost forgotwhat I brought into this place, which was basically nothing. When I came in, I had my wallet, a spare condom, and the clothes on my back. Now, I'm being handed my wallet with the last thirty dollars I had to my name, and the clothes that would only fit the twenty-one-year-old version of myself.Fantastic.
I press through the cold metal doors of the prison, welcomed by the quiet, lonely sound of freedom. For only a split second, I forget I have nowhere to go and no one to call. Then, for only a second, I care. My only concern is the price tag attached to everything that comes next, and I don't know where to start.
With no option, other than to hoof it, I walk until I end up in the center of the small town I knew well—the one I grew up in. It was always a clean little place, filled with pleasant people, apart from a few, but I don't remember it beingthisclean or with so many high-class looking people all staring at me. Whether it's my tarnished perspective on life that's changed, or not, it's apparent that I still don't fit in.I never will.
As a mother and her young daughter walk past me, the mom gives me a lingering look that ends with a smile, letting me know she finds me attractive, which is a good ego boost since I look the part for just getting out of prison. I grin back at her, but it seems she just realized who I am. The woman grabs her daughter, tucking her safely between her arm and side while covering the girl's eyes from the monster I evidently am. For so long I planned to defend myself, no matter what that took. Even if I had to tell every person who passes by that Haven lied about her age, I would do that to save myself from the names I've most likely earned. Now that I'm out, I don't have the same desire to fight the looks and accusations.
Continuing down the street with no direction, I do my damnedest to avoid eye contact with everyone until an older man in a pricey-looking suit stops in front of me. With a white beard and eyebrows the size of cotton balls, he crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head to the side as if he were studying me, trying to figure out what kind of animal I am. "Don't think for a second that no one knows who you are," his voice booms, loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear. He's purposely making a public statement to ease the concerns of the people in this town. What other reason is there?
I drop my hands into my pockets and shrug my shoulders. "Who am I, exactly?" Because I'd love to fucking know.
Just as the man probably hoped, there's a small crowd circling around us, as if this might be the most exciting thing that's happened here in God knows how long. "You're Raine Carson, and this community is aware of you and the fact that you were released from prison today. We have all been dreading this day for quite some time now." This town with one stoplight can only hold eight hundred people, yet there's a prison situated just along the bordering town, holding another four hundred people. The only difference is, I came from this town. Most of the other inmates didn't.
"I am who you accuse me of being. And yes, I was released from prison today. So, thanks for your welcoming greeting."
"You best be passing through then," he says, lessening his public spectacle down to a private conversation. "I—we don't care if you used to be a resident here or not. You are no longer welcome." When did we go back to living in an era where people are evicted from towns? I must have missed an awful lot while I was rotting behind bars.
"I'll take your suggestion under consideration," I tell him.
The skin around his ears burns with a red tinge, as do the veins in his eyes. "This is no suggestion, Raine. Cascade is clean of sexual predators as well as all crime, and we intend to keep it that way."Sexual predator.That's what I'll forever be known as now. I take it they chase every other released inmate away before they have a chance to settle into this town. Most would want to get as far away from that prison as possible anyway, but I'm not most of them, and I'm not done with this town.
I pull my hands out of my pockets and take the man's hand. "Sir, I truly hope you have a good day." Placing my hands on the sides of his shoulders, I carefully move him out of the way and continue walking down the sidewalk. It isn't hard to hear the chatter behind me—the gossip, the worries, and fears. I know what they think I am, as well as what I'm not, and if there's anything I've learned in the last seven years, it's that I can't control what anyone else thinks or does.
I continue through the center of town, watching as people cross the street to avoid me. No one looks familiar, even though I lived here my entire life before I was put away, but evidently, I look familiar to all of them. That and I've seen at least six flyers hanging around town with my mug in black and white, announcing: "Warning! Sexual Predator."
Seven years ago, when I was thrown into a cell, I manifested every emotion these people want me to feel right now. I felt like the animal they think I am. I sat awake for a week straight, staring at a crack in the wall, trying to figure out how and where I went wrong. I constantly asked myself if there was something I could have done differently. Of course, I came up with a pretty lengthy list of things I should have done to avoid the situation that sent me to prison and left me with a criminal record, but it doesn't matter anymore.
As I come to the end of Main Street in the center of town, I pass by the coffee shop with a "Help Wanted" sign hanging in the dew-covered window. Ideally, after smelling nothing but piss and shit for past seven years, I'd like to go sit on a park bench and smell the fucking flowers and listen to the birds chirp, but I need money, just the same as when I left. I look into the shop, noting how busy it is, already assuming this won't go over well, but I have to at least try.
I walk in and stand at the end of the four-person line as each person turns around and not-so-subtly gives me a look I'm quickly becoming used to. When I approach the counter, the scrawny teenage boy who mustn't be older than fifteen asks me if he can help me, his voice rasping with fear.
"I saw your 'Help Wanted' sign on the door. Is there a manager I could speak with?" I ask him.
"I—I'm the manager," he says softly, nervously. "You're...you're—"
"We all know who I am, thanks to the pretty little glamour shots of me all over town." I place my hands down on the counter, leaning forward a bit more. "Do you have a job opening or not?" He looks down at my hands, most likely at the ink and scars covering every inch of my hands, swallows hard and glances back up at me.
"I can pass your name on to the owner," he says, wiping his hands off on his apron.
"Well, can I have an application or something?" I ask.
"Why don't you just leave," a woman yells from the back of the shop. "No one wants you here."
I turn around, making eye contact with the woman, finding that I recognize her. She used to/maybe still does live next door to Haven. I suppose it would be easiest to just leave this town, but that's what everyone is likely expecting me to do if they push hard enough. Facing back toward the little dude with an apron, I take the application from his hand. "Do you have a pen?"
His hand shakes as he reaches behind the register, grabbing a black pen and handing it to me. "I'm not going to hurt you, man. I'm just looking for a job." I force what feels like a hint of a smile. Trying to smile, anyway. He nods with an equally forced smile that makes him look like he's about to vomit.
I slide the paper down the counter, a few feet out of the way from the line, and fill out my information. It only takes a couple of minutes since I have no previous work experience in the past five years, other than repairing washers and dryers, dishwashers, and any other electronics that broke in the prison.
I get to the part where it asks if I'm been convicted of any crime. I have to check yes and then summarize a detailed reason why I was behind bars for seven years, and the best I can come up with is:A desperate girl lied to me.
