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Yancy spaces out on the way back to his solitary confinement, confident in his timing and muscle memory in order to sneak back in undetected. He knows every nook and cranny and the guard’s shifts by heart, so it really wasn’t any trouble for him. He just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about you.
“Aren’t you coming?”
Youse made it seem like the easiest thing in the world, askin’ him to leave behind his home, his family, for the cold world outside. He should’ve scoffed, rolled the offer off his shoulder like it was nothing.
But the way youse looked at him… like youse were worried about him or something. Concern ain’t easy to come by in prison and it caught him so off guard that he actually thought about it. For the first time in a long time, he considered stepping out on the other side of the fence.
Even now, he thinks about what would happen if he just turned right around and caught up with ya outside. He wonders how you’d look at him if you saw him running up to you like some kind of lost puppy. Would you be surprised? Well yeah probably, but would you be... happy to see him?
He rubs his neck, feeling heat stain the back of it. That was a little weird.
He sighs as he slips back into his solitary cell, looping the conversation over and over in his head, remembering how he called out when visitations took place. Was it too much? He didn’t want you to feel obligated but all that talk about freedom made him nervous and it was just a suggestion. He don’t get many visitors, it wasn’t too wrong of him to just throw it out there, was it? And who knows, maybe you’d… nah. Nah, you’re miles away by now and if youse had any smarts, you’d stay miles away from this place. No point in getting his hopes up.
Despite himself, he glances at the calendar. Only two and a half more weeks until the next visitation day. He curls up on the bed and gathers the stiff sheets around him and damn it all, now he was thinking about what it’d be like if youse ever visited. He rubs his hands over his face, knowing full well how ridiculous he’s being. You’ve only known each other for a little over a day, but youse certainly were an interesting character, the kind that’s not easily forgotten. Definitely made your mark , he thought as he prodded the bandage on his cheek.
Youse a weird one that’s for sure. You trusted him, a convict, a jailbird, a murderer, to break you out, his hands on your shoulders, your arms, leading you out. No one has trusted in him like that in a while. Sure, there was “trust” in his prison family, of course, but when parole comes around… well ya gotta do what ya gotta do, y’know? No one in here blamed him for that, but that didn’t mean he deserved anything more than his own prison cell.
A part of him almost wishes you could’ve just stayed here. He didn’t really know what you’d done to land yourself in his penitentiary, but it couldn’t have been that bad if they thought youse could be rehabilitated. Maybe if you’d stayed, been a part of the family, youse could’ve been a real friend. He shakes his head, scattering those thoughts. You’ve got people who care about you, a real home to go to, youse don’t belong here. Besides, god forbid someone decides to shiv you to keep from parole. He shudders. Nah, that kinda life wasn’t meant for someone like youse. Maybe for your friend Mark, now he seemed like a real douche, has the kind of face you just wanna smack, but not you.
He eyes the calendar again. Two and a half weeks. He wonders if he’ll be out of solitary by then, surely the warden doesn’t keep people in here for that long just for a fight? Yeah, maybe he started it, but he got his ass handed to him, wasn’t that punishment enough? He chuckles to himself. Whatever, he’s sure it won’t be that long, he’s the Warden’s favorite after all. “Like a son” is what he said!
Like a son…
Yancy immediately deflates, curling into himself. Any little hope he had is leaking out and spilling and making a mess out of everything, like always.
“I done a lot of bad things…”
Yeah, no kidding. He’s a murderer and it’s stupid that he’s even fantasizing about any sort of life on the outside. Happy Trails Penitentiary is his home and he’s gonna grow old here and he’s gonna die here because that’s what people like him deserve .
He swallows. His old shrink wouldn’t like how he’s “regressing back to his negative mind space” or whatever. It might’ve been a while since he’s seen ‘em, but he did learn a thing or two from the doc, believe it or not. He closes his eyes and tries to pull himself together.
Life ain’t bad here.
He likes his family.
His family likes him.
He’s making progress.
Drama therapy is helping, just stick with it.
He can go on parole anytime he wants… but he just won’t move past his mistakes.
He just needs to give himself a chance.
...No… he can’t.
He takes deep, slow breaths. He feels a little better, but no less conflicted. He’s uh… he’s still got some things to work through obviously but that’s ok! He’s ok-ish.
He thinks back to your offer and decides he doesn’t regret not going with you.
He just isn’t ready for it. It ain’t his time… yet.
This is his home for now. That’s ok. He likes it here. You’re not going to come back for him and y’know what, that does actually kinda hurt a little, but that’s ok too. Yancy’s always been a “sensitive soul”, is what his moms used to say a lot. Just another thing on the List of Things to Work On.
He yawns, his eyes are drooping now, but one last coherent thought drifts up from the dregs of his mind.
Parole’s coming up in a few months.
Funnily enough, thinking about it now doesn’t fill him with as much dread as it used to.
He goes to sleep, dreaming of what was in that box you loved so much.
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