CHAPTER ONE – FIRST DAY OUT

The darkness enveloped Nia Moreno like a thick, suffocating blanket. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the small, barred window of her prison cell. The familiar sound of snoring from her cellmate, Carla, filled the air. Nia glanced at the ancient clock on the wall: 4:37 AM. The prison's wake-up call wouldn't blare for another hour and twenty-three minutes. Nia sat up slowly, careful not to make a sound. She swung her legs over the edge of the thin mattress, her feet touching the cold concrete floor. A shiver ran through her body, but it wasn't from the chill. Today was the day. Her last day. After three long years, she would finally walk out of this place. As she sat there, memories flooded her mind. The screeching of tires, the sickening thud, the flashing police lights. The face of Leon Allistair, contorted with grief and rage, as he pointed an accusing finger at her in the courtroom. The sound of the gavel as the judge pronounced her sentence. Three years for accidental manslaughter. It could have been worse, she knew. If it hadn't been for that small piece of evidence... Nia shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts. She'd replayed that night a thousand times in her mind, searching for answers. How had she ended up here? She knew she'd been framed, but proving it had been impossible. The evidence against her had been overwhelming, carefully crafted to ensure her conviction. A rustling sound from the other bunk pulled Nia from her thoughts. Carla stirred, her eyes cracking open. "You're up early, chica," Carla mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. Nia nodded. "Couldn't sleep." Carla pushed herself up, running a hand through her tangled hair. "Big day, huh? You nervous?" "A little," Nia admitted. "It's been a long time." Carla swung her legs over the side of her bunk, mirroring Nia's position. "Listen up, kid. I've been in and out more times than I can count. The outside? It ain't no cakewalk, especially for folks like us." Nia raised an eyebrow. "Folks like us?" "Ex-cons, honey," Carla said with a wry smile. "Once you've got that stamp on your forehead, the world looks at you different. You gotta be prepared." Nia sighed. "I know it's going to be hard, Carla. I'm not naive." "Oh, I know you're not naive. But there's a difference between knowing something and living it." Carla leaned forward, her eyes intense. "First rule: trust no one. Everyone's got an angle, and they'll use you if they can." "Even family?" Nia asked, thinking of her parents and siblings. Carla shrugged. "Especially family, sometimes. They might love you, but they've also got their own lives. Don't expect them to drop everything for you." Nia nodded slowly, absorbing the advice. "Second rule," Carla continued, "find yourself a routine. A job, a hobby, anything. Idle hands are the devil's playground, and all that crap. Plus, it'll keep your PO off your back." "I'm hoping to find work," Nia said. "But who's going to hire an ex-con?" Carla chuckled. "Oh, honey. You'd be surprised. There are places that specialize in hiring folks like us. It ain't glamorous work, mind you. But it's honest, and it'll keep you out of trouble." As they talked, the cell gradually lightened. Nia glanced at the clock again. Nearly time for the wake-up call. Carla noticed her look. "One last piece of advice, kid. The past? It's done. You can't change it. But the future? That's all you. Don't let what happened define you. You did your time. Now it's time to live." Just then, the harsh blare of the prison alarm filled the air. Nia stood up, her heart pounding. This was it. Her last day in this cell, in this place that had been her home for three long years. "Thanks, Carla," she said, turning to her cellmate. "For everything." Carla waved her hand dismissively, but Nia could see the emotion in her eyes. "Ah, get outta here. And don't come back, you hear?" As Nia went through her final day, a strange mix of emotions swirled within her. Relief at finally leaving, anxiety about what awaited her outside, and a surprising twinge of sadness at leaving behind the routines and people she'd grown accustomed to. She spent her morning in the prison library, a place that had become her sanctuary over the years. The musty smell of old books filled her nostrils as she ran her fingers along the spines one last time. "Going to miss this place, Moreno?" Officer Jenkins asked as he passed by on his rounds. Nia smiled slightly. "Parts of it, maybe. The books, definitely." Jenkins nodded. "You've been a model prisoner, Nia. Don't forget that out there. You've got potential." His words stayed with Nia as she made her way to the cafeteria for lunch. She picked at her food, her appetite diminished by the butterflies in her stomach. Around her, the usual cacophony of prison life continued, but it felt distant, as if she was already detaching from this world. In the afternoon, Nia was called to meet with her parole officer, Ms. Rodriguez. The meeting took place in a small, sterile room, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows. Ms. Rodriguez, a stern-faced woman in her fifties, sat across from Nia, a thick file open in front of her. "Ms. Moreno," she began, her voice crisp and businesslike, "I hope you understand the gravity of your situation." Nia nodded. "Yes, ma'am." "Good. Because I need you to listen carefully. Your release comes with strict conditions, and even a minor infraction could land you back here. Do you understand?" "I do," Nia said, her throat dry. Ms. Rodriguez leaned forward. "Let's go over those conditions. First, you'll need to check in with me weekly. No exceptions. If you can't make a meeting, you call. If you don't, it's a violation." Nia nodded, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Second, you'll need to find employment within 30 days. I have a list of potential employers who hire parolees. It's not easy work, but it's a start." As Ms. Rodriguez continued outlining the conditions – no alcohol, no associating with known criminals, regular drug tests – Nia felt the weight of her situation bearing down on her. Freedom, it seemed, came with its own set of bars. "Lastly," Ms. Rodriguez said, her tone softening slightly, "I know this won't be easy. But remember, you have a chance here. A chance to start over. Don't waste it." Nia met her gaze. "I won't. I promise." As she left the meeting, Nia's mind was spinning. The outside world suddenly seemed more daunting than ever. But she was determined to make the most of this chance, no matter how difficult it might be. The rest of the day passed in a blur. Nia said her goodbyes to the few friends she'd made inside, packed her meager belongings, and tried to prepare herself mentally for what was to come. As night fell, Nia lay in her bunk for the last time, staring at the familiar cracks in the ceiling. The cell was quiet, Carla having been uncharacteristically subdued all evening. "Hey, Carla?" Nia whispered into the darkness. "Yeah, kid?" "Do you think... do you think there's really a chance for people like us out there?" There was a long pause before Carla replied. "I think... I think if anyone's got a shot, it's you, Nia. You've got something most of us in here don't." "What's that?" "Hope," Carla said simply. "Now get some sleep. You've got a big day tomorrow." Nia closed her eyes, but sleep was elusive. Her mind raced with thoughts of what awaited her. Would her family welcome her back? Could she find a job? And what about Leon Allistair? The man whose girlfriend she'd been convicted of killing. Would he ever let her live in peace? As the first light of dawn began to filter through the window, Nia finally drifted off into a fitful sleep.