The Emptiness She Holds

The harsh fluorescent lights of juvie felt like a lifetime ago, yet the sterile scent of disinfectant still clung to my yellow jumper. Three years. Three years of that ridiculous color, and the metallic cuffs that just came off my wrists.

Yellow isn't exactly every girl's color. Nor is being framed and found guilty for killing your ex-boyfriend. Did I kill him? Yes. Yes, I did. But not without a hell of a reason. Being 12 and dating a gang leader didn’t scare my stupid younger self. What can I say, I was rebellious and I liked it.

I blew a raspberry at the guard who’d finally uncuffed me. "I know, god, you won't see me again!" The familiar white car, my mom's car, was waiting beyond the double gates. She got out, engulfing me in a hug that smelled of vanilla and lilac. She felt… different. We'd always been a unit, just me and her, until this hell. Dear daddy was never around, at least only when he decided to throw broken beer bottles and whip us. He ended up dead in a ditch.