Page 11 of Trick or Treat: The Rebirth
But as I sit in the dim light of the parking lot, the weight of the prison looming in front of me, I can’t shake off the feeling that there’s so much more to her story than she’s let on. The façade she projects in her professional life doesn’t mirror the girl I’ve come to know, whether through stolen glances or whispered conversations in the cramped confines of that office. I want to peel back those layers—every scar, every secret—and expose the raw essence of who she truly is.
The sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a muted orange glow against the outside prison walls, and I’m struck by the irony of it all. Here I am, an ex-inmate, parked in front of the very place that enforced a cage around my body and haunted my dreams, while she, the beacon of hope in my dreary existence, walks directly into it. I remind myself that this isn’t a cage for her. It’s a part of her mission: a chance to help, to heal. I want to believe that she carries more than just the burdens of her patients—like a heavy backpack stuffed with unresolved trauma of her own.
I decided to kill time by scrolling through the videos I’ve saved of her. They fill my mind with an addictive euphoria, each framed moment of her laughter like a soothing balm to mywounded spirit. But then I notice something: her smile in these clips is tinged with something darker, a shadow that crosses her features when she thinks no one is watching. I've seen that look before, and it stirs something deep within me—a primal urge to shield her from whatever struggles plague her soul.
I start my bike and make my way to the side entrance of the prison, my heart pounding in sync with the rumbling engine. It’s a reckless move, I know, but nothing about my feelings for Scarlett has ever felt rational. I need to see her, even if just for a minute—a heartbeat—so I can better understand what it is I’m fighting against for her.
I slow my pace as I approach the entrance, breaths quickening. There’s a security guard casually leaning against the wall, eyes half-lidded and bored. I hold my breath, hoping he doesn’t catch on to my intent. Just as I think I’m about to successfully slide past him, Scarlett emerges, her brow furrowed and expression troubled.
“Scarlett!” I called impulsively, my voice echoing against the concrete.
She whipped around, surprise flickering across her face, and for a split second, I think I saw fear touch her eyes before it was quickly masked by professionalism.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, tension lacing her words. I could feel the weight of her gaze searching for answers I haven't given yet. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Just wanted to see you,” I replied, taking a cautious step closer, needing to breach the distance between us.
Her eyes softened just slightly, but there was resistance there—a wall she’s built, one that I’m determined to break down. “It’s not safe for you or for me. You need to leave.”
“Safe?” I echoed incredulously. “And what about you? You’re walking into this place every day, taking on burdens that aren'tyours. It isn’t fair.” I step a little closer, the air thickening with tension, each moment stretching into eternity.
She glances back toward the entrance, assessing the potential threat of being seen, then back at me, entreating me with those deep brown eyes. “I can’t talk here. You don't understand.”
“Then help me understand, Scarlett,” I urged, my voice dropping to a low murmur. “What are you hiding?”
Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and I can see the fight leaving her. She hesitated for just a moment, and I could feel my pulse quickening. “Meet me tonight... at the church like we agreed on,” she finally said, her voice raw and vulnerable.
“Promise?” I asked, unable to mask the fervent hope swaying within me.
“Just go. And for the love of everything, don’t fucking follow me again,” she warns, anxiety threading through her tone.
I nod, knowing she’s right but unwilling to comply entirely. “I’ll be there.”
As she walked away, heartache and exhilaration sat heavy in my chest. I knew that this encounter would shift everything—our tentative connection, her guarded heart, and the secrets waiting just beneath her surface. Tonight could be the night we carved out a path to the truth or sealed us both in darkness forever. But one thing was clear: I was all in.
5
The Prisoner
Scarlett
Seeing Hunter follow me to the prison had me rattled. I was only grabbing something from my car, completely unprepared to see him. But there he was, dressed in leather, revving his bike, his long blonde hair sticking out from beneath his helmet. He had me hot and pissed at the same time. I just knew I needed him out of there and as far away as he could be.
I wasn't ready to share this part of my life with him—or anyone, for that matter. But I knew the time would come when I would have to. Today, however, was not that day.
After grabbing another dose of my crazy pills, I walked back into the prison, holding my breath the whole way to the room, just as I had done on my first time up. I hadn’t been here much,at least not for what I was about to do, but rather to see patients who couldn’t leave for obvious reasons.
I settled onto the cold stool, fixed to the grimy concrete floor, a chilling sensation wrapping around me like icy fingers. Shadows danced across the brightly painted brick walls, glowing ominously under the fluorescent lights, while dark thoughts buzzed in my head, eager to resurface.
As I felt myself teetering on the brink of another episode, I let the pills dissolve on my tongue before swallowing them, the bitter taste a reminder that everything would be okay, and that in just a few moments, I would feel “normal”—whatever that actually fucking meant. I relied on medication to help me fit in with society, to continue living my life. Without it, I would have killed myself a long time ago.
My palms grew sweaty as I awaited the arrival of Gerald, a diabolical man in his fifties with dark hair streaked with silver. His face bore gray stubble that mirrored his hair, obscuring a sharp jawline and well-defined cheekbones. His brown eyes were filled with secrets and mystery, and I could still feel the intensity of his gaze from our last visit.
I heard the shackles first, scraping against the floor, their sound mingled with buzzers and the echo of closing metal doors. Another buzzer sounded, followed by a door sliding open, the screech sending a shiver down my spine like nails on a chalkboard. I tried to shake off the chill that accompanied it. The sound of shackles grew louder, closer. My heart thundered against my ribcage, nearly bursting with a mix of anticipation and dread surging through me.
I can do this. I promised him. I can't let him down now.
The door to the room finally swung open, and the COs ushered Gerald in, looking much the same as before—though more muscular from apparent daily workouts, with little else to do. He smirked as he approached, one of the COs securing hishandcuffs to a hook on the table, ensuring he couldn’t attempt an escape.
