Despite not being allowed to set foot outside the prison during the fifteen years, nine months, and five days he’d been incarcerated, he noted the sounds of more cars passing since the opening of the casinos in the small town of Atmore and wondered how he would cope with other changes facing him once he was released on parole in seven days.
Well aware of the other men watching his every move, Andreus strode to the far end of the yard and sat on one of the corner benches, giving him a perfect vantage point. The others shot hoops and hung together in small groups, but even here, in this social castaway zone, he did not fit.
He slid his tongue across his pointed incisors. While the world changed outside, he had undergone a secret metamorphosis inside these walls, and searching for answers about who and what he was had turned up absolutely nothing.
Whatever the explanation, the sense of something lying in wait was always with him, ever present, and it had been a part of him as far back as he could remember. Everyone around him felt it, their fear of him instinctual. The reaction he received from most people reminded him of deer sensing the presence of a lion, but Helen, his adoptive mother, had been different. She had accepted him, even when she saw his skin instantly knit together seconds after being wounded.
Andreus closed the door on his memory of her again, putting it away safely until later when he needed her image to help him get some much needed sleep. Playbacks from his nightmares haunted his days as well, hounding him with swords clashing, molten rocks exploding, deep chasms filled with fire splitting the Earth, multi-timbre voices of war, and huge wings rushing toward him, claiming him. Even now, Helen’s image held the power to offer him a measure of peace. She was the only one who had ever cared for him.
He walked over to one of the exercise bars on the prison yard, set his playlist to a classical mix of Chopin, Rachmaninoff, and Debussy, and inserted his earbuds. When he looked up, the group of inmates who’d been hanging around the bars just seconds ago had sauntered off, giving him a wide berth. He had no interest in getting to know them or sharing their company for that matter, but being left alone within these four walls with nothing but his own disturbing thoughts made the maintenance of sanity a challenge.
Like most of his possessions, he had purchased the electronic device with “gift” money he’d earned for keeping another inmate safe. Easy money. All Andreus had done was to allow the bullied prisoner to sit with him in the mess hall and hang with him in the yard for a few days. He maintained a calm demeanor, never advertising his services, but business always came his way, particularly since the casinos had opened.
Andreus heard footsteps approaching from behind as he contracted his muscles and continued his daily exercise routine. He already knew exactly who approached before turning around, so he didn’t bother to stop what he was doing.
“Shannon, you too. The warden and the social worker want to see you.”
As if he hadn’t heard the guard, Andreus took his time finishing his last set of pull-ups, then leapt down from the bar. He snatched his t-shirt from the concrete bench and pulled it over his head. The moment he turned to face the guard and four other inmates, he saw and smelled their fear.
The putrid stench infiltrated his nostrils, and no matter how hard they tried to keep their expressions neutral—tough, even—he couldn’t miss the signs. They blinked frequently, their eyes like cut glass, and he saw tiny beads of sweat over their lips and on their foreheads.
“Let’s go.” Four more guards joined the original one and led the prisoners back inside and down the hallway to the warden’s office. With the exception of one of the guards, Andreus walked behind the others, who kept glancing back at him every minute or so until they reached their destination.
Once they arrived at his office, the warden led them to one of the classrooms and told them to be seated. He addressed them first, then turned the meeting over to the social worker, Gavin Sumner.
Gavin was a heavyset man, and stood almost as tall as Andreus. Despite his name, he was Italian through and through, often throwing in a word here and there when he really got into what he was doing. Wearing a plaid polo shirt and stonewashed jeans, his presence was a staunch contrast to the other prison officials in the room. He also taught anger management and facilitated the AA groups. Andreus had never needed either of the classes, but they were required for every inmate convicted of involuntary or voluntary manslaughter, and that included him.
The social worker sat on the desk at the front of the classroom and removed papers from a large envelope before he started talking to the five of them.
“Good afternoon.” He waited for their response, as social skills were a large part of their rehabilitation.
“Good afternoon,” they chimed in unison.
“As all of you know, you will be leaving here over the next few days and reintroduced to society at large. Several months ago, each of you signed up for this partnership program between the State Department of Corrections and the Department of Child and Family services.”
After pausing for effect, he continued. “Now you know I’m not usually so formal, but this is a big deal, and you are our first guinea pigs. You need to make this work. It’ll help you and a lot of men after you. Capire?”
They nodded.
“I’m gonna hand you the paperwork you filled out for the “Outreach” program and I want you to look it over so you know what information we already sent your sponsors about you.”
After handing the paperwork to the other men, Gavin placed his hand on Andreus’ shoulder. “Shannon, come with me for a minute.”
Gavin led Andreus to a corner of the room away from the guards and the other inmates. “Hey, man. Just want to let you know the reason you’ll be the last one released is because it might take more time to find a good sponsor for you. There’s an addendum included with your bio with the complete account of what happened that night based on your adoptive mother’s testimony, but the way you killed him will probably still make some people shy away. We’ve talked about why your case is different before, but I’ll be here the rest of the week if you need to talk about it some more. Okay?”
Andreus stared into the social worker’s eyes to ascertain whether or not the man was telling him everything. When Gavin looked away, Andreus blinked and attempted a more relaxed stance.
“Is that it?”
The social worker cleared his throat before responding to Andreus’ question. “Yes. That’s it. Un-unless you, uh, need to—”
“There’s no hold-up with me getting out of here, is there?”
Gavin shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Thank you.” It wasn’t his intention to intimidate the man. Gavin had been good to all of them. Andreus just needed to be sure he wasn’t lying.
Andreus returned to the desk to review the information the facility had sent to the “Outreach” program coordinator. He completely understood why he would be the last prisoner to leave. The problem was that despite remembering every minute detail of Karl’s abusive behavior toward Helen, his memory remained sketchy about what happened afterward. He only recalled scattered pieces of what took place after he walked in on Karl kicking her.
Whether he recalled doing it or not, Helen had recounted the details in court, making sure everyone knew that she was certain Andreus had saved her life from the abusive monster. The bruises from Karl’s beatings could be seen on every part of her body visible to the naked eye, but Andreus saw even deeper, his stomach boiling with the need to avenge the broken woman inside, the woman who had taken him in when he had no one. Even Karl’s death did not ease his rage.