The Billionaire False Embrace

The ex-convict

Catherine’s POV

As I collected the pen from the parole officer, it felt heavier than I expected as I signed my name at the bottom corner of the document given to me.

The officer watched me with a cold expression he had since I sat down, as if he had seen these moments many times, maybe it meant nothing to him after all.

My fingers were shaky at first, not with fear though, but from the fact that after ten years behind concrete walls I was about to walk into a world that had long forgotten my existence. The world that will now call me an ex-convict, a murderer or any name suitable for their amusement.

“Your initial here, “ the officer commanded, sliding another paper across the desk.

I did exactly as he said because I don't want to waste any time there again. The office still has this smell of dust and old files reminding me the first time I was there.. That was ten years ago…..

The clock on the wall ticked with rhythms that tend to say my time is up.. I refused looking at the window behind the officer as I am not certain the fate I am stepping into.

“Catherine, do you understand the conditions of your parole? “ the officer asked..

“Yes sir, “ I answered calmly even though my mind felt heavy.

No more violence, mandatory Saturdays Check-ins, you are not expected to leave town and most importantly you have to be employed… The officer read half of the parole rules as my entire life depends on it or maybe it truly does.

These rules reminded me that I wasn't truly free, but this is better than being locked inside these walls.

The officer gathered all my documents into a neat stack and stood up: I am done with you Catherine, go and try not to come back here..

Maybe he was trying to encourage me to be a better person but the statement landed between warning and indifference. I stood up slowly, adjusting the small bag I slungged over my shoulder.

All my belongings were inside that bag, two sets of clothes, an old notebook, and a copy of photos I rarely allowed myself to look at.

As I moved through the hallway towards the main gate, it felt as if I was leaving a part of me inside that prison. My footsteps echoed as I was passing doors that once represented punishment and daily routine. Some Guards nodded slightly at me, A few inmates looked up, some curious, some resentful, others just hoping..

Immediately the last gate opened, a rush of bright light forced me to blink. The air outside was refreshing, softer and alive with the distant sound of traffic and voices. For a moment I paused, I did not know whether to go forward or go back to prison.

For ten years, I have not made decisions on my own. Someone has always told me when to eat, where to stand, even when to sleep. All those have suddenly changed.

With determination, I step out of the gate..

The last gate opened fully, allowing me to get the picture of the world I am about to step into at once. The gate closes with a dull dang, ten years of my life is closed pm with a single metal sound.

I stood at the pavement of the prison gate for a while allowing the morning sun to touch my face. I noticed that I already forgot how open the world could be.

People started passing, cars started driving by, no one noticed me, no one came to look for me, and no one called my name..

I simply adjusted the strap of my bag and started walking, where I was going, I don't know. Even though my parole papers were neatly folded in my hand, they only offered instructions without direction. The street stretched ahead like an exam question, I didn't know how to answer.

Like a flash a memory crept in, my mother's voice years ago during our last phone call.. Don't contact us again, Catherine. You have brought shame and disgrace to this family.. After that call, everything went silent with her. No phone calls, letters returned unopened, visitations canceled. I have really learned how to not expect anything from anybody.

I walked past a small café at the side of the road where people laugh over breakfast. The sight looks so foreign to me because for the past ten years I haven't seen a peaceful breakfast. . A couple argued softly near a bus stop, and a child chased a pigeon across the pavement. Life moved effortlessly around me while I tried to remember how to belong in it.

After a while, I was able to remember a public park I used to visit with my friends before the whole chaos started. The park gate stood open, and the grass was so green and beautifully trimmed compared to the gray of prison yards. I entered the park slowly as if someone would stop me but no one did.

Saw a group of people sitting on blankets with their loved ones. Early morning joggers passed with familiar rhythmic steps. I also sighted a woman reading a book under a tree as I was passing completely unaware of the thought circling in my mind. I saw an empty bench and decided to set it, exhaling slowly.

Most time freedom is more heavier than confinement.

The memory of the incident that sent me to jail flashed in my mind, my best friend screaming, I rushed inside the school rest room only to see a boy r****g her, I grabbed the ceremic jug on the table and hit him on the head. I did not plan to murder him, I only wanted to stop.

Then.. The court called it murder. Some people had called me a monster, some called me brave. I didn't even know which word belonged to me now.

Night was approaching fastly, I had no plans of where to sleep. Not even considering going home because that is adding salt to my already sustained injury.

I let my body relax more on the bench, as I watched the sky move slowly unbothered by any human mistakes. I have dreamed about my freedom ever since I stepped foot in that cruel jail house, not because I want to reunite with my family or any celebration but the freedom to choose my next step.

I strongly believe that in this city I will see many opportunities and even people who will be able to see me beyond the label of an ex-convict.!!