Chapter 2

Mercede’s POV

Six years, and the gate of hell finally opened–not to let me in, but to let me out, right after three parole board reviews, and one GED.

“Alright, Mercedes, you know the rules,” my parole officer, Mrs. Jenkins said firmly. “We've gone through them twice, but let's go over it again. You're to remain in the state. Weekly check-ins. No drugs, no alcohol, no association with felons. And most importantly…you need to find legal employment within the next thirty days. We clear?”

“Yes ma'am,” I answered with a nod.

“Good.”

She handed me a bag, which had my belongings, and I was on my way to freedom.

Even if it was only temporary.

The sun felt different against my skin the moment I stepped out. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I wasn't surrounded by barbed wires whenever I had a bit of sunlight for the past 1,827 days.

Yep. I've been counting.

Honk! Honk!

I jumped slightly at the sharp sound of a car horn.

I looked in the direction the sound came in, and there she was.

My beautiful redhead best friend, Nicole, waving from behind the wheel of a beat-up black civic..

“Finally, girl!” She shouted as she jumped out and rushed towards me. “You're free!”

She threw her arms around me, and wrapped me in the tightest hug I've had in six years.

“Yeah,” I said softly, returning the hug, as I suddenly became teary eyed. “It's just temporary though. But I need to find a job.”

Nicole pulled back, holding my arms. “Don't worry about that. I've got you,” she smiled. “What do you think I'm here for?”

Nicole and I got into her car, and the farther we drove off from the prison grounds, the stronger my resolve to never have to see that place again.

I'd do literally anything–all legal, to stay out of here.

We arrived at a little café downtown that's not so fancy but smelt like heaven.

I ordered a turkey melt and fries, and literally cried as I took the first bite.

I haven't had real food in over six years!

Nicole pulled out a stapled packet of paper from her bag and handed it over to me.

“A list of job openings,” she explained. “I did some digging. All of ‘em are hiring. You just need to charm the hell outta them.”

My hands trembled and eyes watered as I went through the papers.

This wasn't just a list of job openings with their names, address and contact numbers? This was fifteen whole chances to start over.

“Nicole,” I choked out quietly in tears. “What would I ever do without you?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Nicole beamed. “And you better not forget it. I love you girl. And I've got you. Always.”

I threw my arms around Nicole and broke down into a sob.

“I love you too,” I said in between tears, hugging her tightly.

After lunch, Nicole took me to her home.

“Okay, this is home base,” she said, as we got into the one bedroom apartment. “It's not much, but you can crash on the couch over there,” she pointed. “It's at least soft.”

I chuckled softly.

“And Adam?” I asked, knowing she was staying here with her boyfriend.

“He's chill,” she waved it off. “You're family. He gets it.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I'll be out as soon–”

“Don't even finish that sentence,” she cut in, her eyes narrowing to slits. “You're family, Mercedes. And family doesn't rush healing. You take your time in settling back in. A lot has changed since you've been locked up.”

God, what did I ever do to deserve her?

That night, we worked on my resume. We stayed up until 2 AM typing, editing, and printing. 

For each of the fifteen job openings, we crafted a personalized cover letter.

The next day, I woke up feeling energized and ready to face the world.

Nicole being a darling left me some cash for cab, lunch or whatever essentials I'll need. I had three interviews scheduled for today.

But one after another they all rejected me.

At first they seemed impressed with my resume, but when they found out I was an ex-convict, they switched up-coming up with one lame excuse after another.

And those that weren’t brave enough always said. ‘We’d get back to you.’

They never did. Ever.

But Nicole didn't give up. 

Not on me, and not on the idea of me finding a job, so she kept showing up with various job openings.

“You'd get it this time, Mercedes,” Nicole would say to me every morning when I went out for a job interview.

…………

THREE WEEKS LATER

I didn't know what to do with myself after my last weekly check-ins with Mrs. Jenkins, so I just sat down at the bus station watching people go about their lives.

Bzzzz.

My phone buzzed-a text message from Nicole.

Nicole: Where are you?

Me: Bus station.

Nicole: Come home. Now.

Me: Is something wrong?

One minute.

Two.

And still no reply.

This can't be good. Nicole was always on her phone, and replied within seconds.

A knot formed in my stomach, as I imagined the worse.

I dialed her number, but it kept going straight to voicemail.

Shit.

I got on the next bus, and headed straight home.

My hands had barely touched the door knob when Nicole yanked it open.

“Come in, come in, come in,” she grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside.

“Nicole what's going on?” I asked, as she sat me down on the couch.

I was relieved that she was okay…she looks okay at least, physically.

“Okay,” She breathed, standing in front of me with her hands akimbo. “I know these past few weeks have sucked so hard they could be classified as a black hole. And now you've got four days left before they throw you back into that place.”

I sighed in exasperation, already knowing where this was headed. 

“But, if you think I'm just going to sit back and let them take you? Think again,” she said firmly.

She leaned in, her face fierce with defiance.

“They took you for six years, Mercedes. Six. But not this time–”

“Nic–”

“They're not taking you again,” she cut in sharply. “Not without me fighting tooth and nail.”

I ran my hands down my face in defeat.

Nicole has always been a fighter. Not taking whatever bullshit life throws at her. She'd get back right up, and fight as long as she had blood in her veins and air in her lungs.

But not me. 

Not after everything.

Hope was a luxury I couldn't quite afford.

Nicole threw an envelope right into my lap, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I opened the envelope expecting another list of job openings, but instead I saw an ID card with my pictures. But the name.

“Mercedes Alexander?” I read out loud in confusion. “This isn't my name.”

I looked up at Nicole.

“Technically it is,” she plopped down beside me on the couch. “Alexander is your mother's maiden name, remember? Still you. Just…not prison record you.”

“Nic-”

“Just hear me out,” she cut it. “This is our last shot. The system won't give you a chance, so we're going to take one,” she continued. “Just a little white lie to get you a job.”

“A white lie?” I stared at her in disbelief. “Nic, I'm on parole. I can't do anything illegal. You know that.”

“And I can't let them take you back there!” She snapped, tears rolling down her cheeks. “You've done everything right, Mercedes. Followed every damn rule,” she whispered in a trembling voice. “And look where that got you.”

Nicole grabbed my hand and closed my fingers around the ID.

“I want you to survive, Mer,” she said softly. “And if a little lie about an ID means survival? So be it.”

I shook my head in refusal and got on my feet. 

“Nope. No way–”

“It's either this or jail,” Nicole said firmly. “And you and I both know you won't survive a day back in there.”

I stared at Nicole knowing she was right. I won't survive a day back there. How I survived six years in there was still a mystery.

But the taste of freedom, however little I had this past few weeks, was exhilarating. And I'll be lying to myself if I said I didn't want more.

“Alright, let's say I agree with this ‘white lie’. What's next?”

“You go for an interview!” Nicole squealed and gave a little happy dance.

I chuckled softly. Of course she had this all planned out. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has been planning this out for days or even weeks.

“It's for a live-in nanny job. Adam makes deliveries to their place. These people are rich, like fancy rich,” she emphasized. “They need someone to look after their kids. All you have to do is take care of the kids,” she explained. “Also, before you go having ideas about background checks and whatnot, Adam told them you're his cousin, and he trusts you.”

I furrowed my brows. This was coming off too easy. 

But now wasn't the time for all that. I trust Nicole wouldn't tell me about this if she wasn't sure herself.

“When's the interview?”

“Tomorrow.”

I shot her a glare. “Nicole!”

“What?!” She laughed. “I couldn't risk telling you earlier, or you'd run off,” she teased.