Fighting to Be Free (Fighting to Be Free 1)

Chapter 1

I walked into the dull little office, “Have a seat,” the guy barked not even looking up from his desk, I rolled my eyes and sat down on the old frayed chair. He was scribbling on a form, so I waited patiently looking around the little room. It was painted a dirty cream colour, it was boring, plain and the only furniture was filing cabinets and the desk, it was dank, dark and for some reason smelled like cat‘s piss. Surely this guy must be suffering from some sort of depression working in here all day! The room literally felt like it was sucking the life out of me.

Part of me couldn’t wait to get out of this place, but to be honest in another way I didn’t want to leave. I had been here for just over four years, most of the people that were in here cried themselves to sleep and wished they were anywhere but here, but I knew of a worse place. This place was actually the best place I had ever lived in my life. I had a small amount of freedom, a TV we could watch, a gym - yeah ok it was poorly stocked but hey still we had one - we had a few board games, plenty of time to hang out with my friends.

Yeah, there were down sides too, like trying to stay out of trouble, staying the hell away from the gangs and ra**sts, set time for lights out, the food was awful, but it could be worse, I could have still been in the place I used to call home. This place saved me and I was hoping that it had changed my life, had given me a fighting chance. I didn’t want to go back to my life before all this happened, I couldn’t live my life the way I used to, I was determined to change.

Finally he glanced up at me, looking bored, “Right so, Jamie Cole, four years two months, on kitchen duty at $1 a day means the state now owes you $1520,” the guy said tapping on a calculator.

Wow, ok $1520 is not going to very last long!

“Ok thanks.” I nodded trying to be polite. I don’t think he bought it though, I think he thought I was being sarcastic. His jaw tightened as he narrowed his eyes at me.

“Your accommodation has been arranged for you, it‘s a bed-sit block specifically built for rehabilitating cons, so you should fit in well there.” He shrugged, turning his nose up.

Rude freaking ass**le! I clamped my jaw tight not wanting to say anything that would get me in trouble. I was eager for my new life, starting a row with this balding little f**ker wouldn’t be an idea way to start going straight.

“Sounds awesome,” I lied quietly. I wanted to ask him to just give me the money so I could leave, but I held my tongue.

“It’s not. It costs $50 a week. It’s not a nice place so if I were you I would look for a job and get the hell out of there as quickly as you can,” he said, frowning slightly. Not a nice place? Ok great that is so not a good sign, but I guess I wasn’t really expecting the Ritz! “I’m your parole officer, Stuart Mitchell. I need to see you once a week, every Thursday at five, at the address here on this card.

You understand?” he asked, looking at me like I was stupid as he handed me a business card.

I nodded, “Yeah, I got it.” Could this guy be any more condescending?

“Well good, because if you’re late even once you‘ll be straight back inside. You’re over 18 now so it won’t be juvie like you’re used to, it‘ll be with the big boys,” he said, looking at me warningly.

Yeah I got it, address on the card, Thursday five o‘clock, don‘t be late, right! “I don’t set up jobs you’ll have to do that on your own and you’re going to have your work cut out for you even getting an interview, people don’t look too kindly on convicted murderers,” he said a small smile playing on the edge of his lips. Yeah I freaking bet they didn’t look too kindly on it, that’s why I didn’t plan on telling anyone.

“Right, so are we nearly done?” I asked, raising my eyebrows curiously. I could feel my mood getting lower and lower the longer I sat in this little shitty place and I was on a high before I came in here. I was free, finally today after just over four years in juvie, I was free to start over.

He dug around in a little drawer and came out with a little brown envelope and a stack of forms.

“So this is your money, don’t waste it on drink, drugs and prostitutes, the minute it’s gone you’ll regret it. I need you to sign here and you can go, the address for your place is on the front of the envelope.” He handed me a form and pen, pointing at the bottom where I needed to make my mark.

I scribbled my name and took the envelope pulling out a twenty and putting it in my jeans pocket before pushing the rest down my sock, no damn way I was losing that already. I stood up and held my hand out to him; he looked at it a little shocked before placing his hand in mine. “Well good luck son, and I’ll see you in a few days,” he said frowning.

“Thanks, see ya.” I smiled gratefully and turned walking out of his office.

Larry, one of the guards stopped me at the door and searched through my rucksack. There was nothing of interest in there, the only things I had were a few sets of clothes and one photograph of my little sister, Sophie. He waved to the guard and they buzzed the door open. I looked outside, the sun was shining, there were no walls with barbed wire on the top, just a clear open view of a road and a yellow field.

“Well Cole 32968, I hope I never see you again,” Larry said, slapping me on the back smiling. As guards go he was great, fair and kind, he treated everybody the same, no matter what they were in for.

“Thanks Larry. I hope I never see you again too.” I grinned as I shook his hand, he nodded and laughed. I took a deep breath before pushing open the door and leaving the place I vowed I would never return to again.