Guilty Until Proved Innocent

secret love, my escape, take me far far away
secret love, are you there? will you answer my prayer?
please take me anywhere but here...
broken this fragile thing now and i can't pick up the pieces
and i've thrown my words all around but i can't give you a reason,
here i go, scream my lungs out and try to get to you.



I sat in the back row of the small church area for those who were religious, or really wanted to turn their life around. One girl was crying near the front pew, a counselor sat beside her.

With my hands intertwined, my eyes squeezed closed, and my head bowed to my chest, I prayed.

I wasn't exactly your everyday "carries a bible around everywhere, wears long skirts, has long hair, only is friends with the choir people, etc" type Christian. I just believed that there was a greater being out there.

"I just want everything fixed. You put me in here for a reason, now show me what that reason is."

No Amen, no thank you, no anything.

I wanted answers and I wanted them now.



One would think that after spending a week in a cell with barely any human contact, you would go crazy. Of course, this is not the case with me.

Madame Isaac's really isn't that bad... it's worse than you think. The food is like my old school's cafeteria mush; the bed isn't very comfy but I still get some sleep; the homework is third grade math, and I get to read whatever I want whenever I want. I've slightly gotten used to the uniform; I have shower day on Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays after church.

All in all, it’s a small piece of the worst level of Hell packed into a tiny concrete building.

Dona, a seventeen-year-old, has been in and out of here since her thirteenth birthday. She has obvious anger issues. Actually, those issues have issues.

Michelle, she's your stereo typical buff-quiet girl that likes to keep to herself. She's very protective of another girl, though; Valerie. Val can't really seem to keep her mouth shut sometimes.

There's also Kiki, she doesn't know any kind of English, only Chinese. She's in here for stabbing a boy that would tease her nonstop.

So really, it's your usual thugs, no-good-girlfriends, and anger management patients. Well... not exactly. There is one girl that I have yet to learn anything about the week I've been here.

The redhead from the first day I came here. I haven't seen her any since then; the TV is always turned off whenever I pass the rec room. It's like no one goes near it. Other than the fact that she must have taken the territory of the TV, I know nothing about her. Who was she? Why had she given me that look, that look of understanding?



And then there's Brenda, my next-door-cell-mate.

"Hey La Laland! How are you doing today?" I rolled my eyes and pulled the paper thin pillow over my head. Brenda was the little devil spawn of this piece of Hell. She was one of the few other killers here; boyfriend, 'nuff said.

If I didn't get any sleep, it was her fault. They should hook a motor to that mouth of hers, they could generate enough electricity to power the whole building with the way she talks. And she doesn't talk very cleanly, either.

"Oh com'on La Laland, I'm just being nice!" And annoying, I added."I only asked you how your day was going. You could at least answer."

I sighed. There was nothing to do here. You would all think I would be crying my eyes out and begging to talk to my mom, or friends, or Eric, but no. I actually found this all boring. But it was supposed to be boring, so the guards were doing their job.

"My day has been very boring." I could hear a faint snort from Brenda. Was she laughing at me?

"Well that happens when you're locked up for life." I could hear the smile she had on her face. Was she mocking me? "Not everyone has the luxury of living a good life. All is fair in love and war."

"How is this war?" This was how all our conversations started. Her catchphrase was "All is fair in love and war," and then I would go and ask how that had anything to do with what we were talking about. Her reasoning was very logical actually. Brenda was smarter than she seemed.

"Life is a war. The strongest have the longer lives."

"That's not entirely true." It wasn't. My dad was strong, look where that got him.

"Oh yeah? Then explain it to me, La Laland."

I was silent. I didn't like to talk about my dad. Anthony Reed was a hero in my eyes, a warrior, a great father. Sure, he never saw me enter high school, or go to my first dance, or meet my first boyfriend - but I knew he was there right beside me all the time.

"My dad was a soldier, he died five years ago." And that was the end of that conversation. I rolled over, my back facing the concrete wall, and stared at the wall only three feet from my face.

Nothing is fair.



My rec days were the same days I had shower time. So, after I was smelling fresh, I would be released into the rec room. Of course, most of the girls just glanced at me and when back to whatever they were doing. Some were playing cards, other reading, some were even talking about their life before Madame Isaac's. Today's topic? Boyfriends.

I usually just listened in, surprised at how much most of our lives were alike.

"Love is like a bridge..." That caught my attention immediately. "A bridge that is completely covered in fog. You don't know when you're going to get to the other side, when you're going to step on a loose board, or when you're gonna completely fall through and hit the water or rocks beneath you." It was the redhead. "I should know, I hit both pretty hard."

That's when I noticed the plain white cast on her left arm. She had it swinging limply at her side, almost as if her whole arm was dislocated from the shoulder socket. There was a disappearing purple bruise on her left cheek with a few barely visible cuts, too.

"Wow. That was deep, Becca," Dona said, sighing with a look that said she was highly into the whole romance thing.

Becca... that was her name.

"Yeah, whatever," and she walked away; her arm swaying as she walked over to the beat-up chair that sat in front of the old television. I watched as she did, interested in every movement she made.

And then my name was called.

"Yo, Reed, you got a visitor!"

We could have visitors here?

I stepped away from the group and walked over to the dead-bolt locked door. I was handcuffed easily, I didn't even try to fight her, and pushed down halls yet again. But we made a turn near the entrance. Most likely the room for visitors. I didn't know murderers were allowed visitors.

I almost dropped to my knees the second I walked into the room.

Eric Watson, my marvelous boyfriend of eight months, was sitting on the other side of the Plexiglas that separated the visitors from the prisoners. I rushed over to the chair sitting next to a telephone and picked it up quickly, not even waiting for my handcuffs to be undone.

"Eric, baby, I've missed you so much." That's all I could say seeing as I just felt like crying with pure joy.

"Hey Lollipop, how are you?" He gave me his one-sided smile; my heart was broken and sewn back together again in just a matter of seconds.

"Bored, unsurprisingly. The homework is too easy, I have barely any human contact, and my the girl in the cell-next-door is out to kill me in this piece of Hell."

Eric looked a little uneasy. "Uh, Lauren... you sure you're-"

"Yes, yes, I'm not giving up my faith; I'm just pissed at the moment." I smiled back at him. We just stared at each other, his bright eyes giving me some kind of hope. "How's my mom?" I cringed when I said it. I hadn't spoken to my mother since the day of my trial. But only if you count "shouting out eternal damnation" at her as talking, than sure, that works.

"Quiet. She's been coming over for dinner that past few nights, but she doesn't say a single word. I can tell she misses you."

"She only misses me because I know how to work the coffee maker."

Eric frowned. "That's not true, Lollipop! She loves you very much, you're her only daughter!"

"I'm her only child," I replied bluntly. He sighed in return.

"You're really stubborn, you know that right?"

"You wouldn't have me any other way." He smiled at that. I wish I could kiss him, hold him, smell that amazing cologne he always uses.

"I love you, Lauren Elizabeth Reed."

"I love you too, Eric Julian Watson."

Love really is like a bridge. It's long, swaying back and forth over something that could kill you, but it's all worth it once you get to the other side.