2

She had gotten out of prison the previous May, just in time for summer school. She had spent the first week out in hospital after being assaulted at the bus stop though. Hence, the escort to and from classes. She was currently in her third semester at school. Her plan was to fast pace herself out of there before they realized they had let her in. It was the school's policy not to allow in applicants with a criminal history. She had not lied on her application, and was unaware of how she had been accepted, although she had some ideas about that. She took both day and night courses each semester as well as online, taking the maximum hours they would allow—twenty-one for day and twelve for online—totaling thirty-six hours a semester. When she finished the current semester, she would officially be a junior and could graduate with an associate's degree.

Chad had a guilty look on his face, as they turned onto her mother's street. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." He said but, knew she knew better. He meant it exactly that way. "So, what was he accusing you of?"

"He believes I'm a part of this group of girls—young women, that keep making nasty comments and taunts about him and his relationship with this girl I go to church with. K'ressa Dean. I didn't though, and I don't. I barely acknowledge the other students. I stay to myself and restrict my interactions to teachers, staff and mandatory group projects. I've ignored him and them since I started here last June."

Chad had that skeptical and unsure look she was used to seeing on people's faces that knew she had been in prison. She didn't fault Chad though. It was his job not to believe her or trust her. "Has he ever said anything to you before?"

"No. He just glares and glowers at me most of the time." She murmured, tiredly. Like most people around here do. She didn't state that she ignored him too. That much was obvious from the way, she just got up and left.

The next day was Friday, which meant no classes, and she couldn't leave the house without an authorized escort. That was fine with her. She had a job working for a research company as a social media evaluator. In the majority of her day classes, that was what she would do. Set up the video feed and then pull out her tablet or laptop to do her job while she monitored the video recordings. She worked forty to sixty hours a week over a seven-day period and grossed a little over two thousand a month. Between work and school, she didn't have time for social interaction outside of social media. She was either working or studying or both. When she was home she rarely came out of the basement. Her mom kept the door to the main house padlocked from her any way. The only time she saw her was when she came down to do laundry once a week. That was usually on Saturday mornings. Katie would either be working or studying and neither would speak to each other. Her mom, would glare at her from time to time but, never a word was spoken since the day she had arrived home.

"...you'll live in the basement. I will not provide you with anything for free. I expect three hundred dollars rent at the first of every month. That includes lights, gas, water, garbage service, internet, cable and phone. If you need me to pick up food and other supplies for you when I get mine that will be an additional two hundred dollars a month. You have permission to use the washer and dryer once week. My laundry day is still Saturday. You can catch a ride with me to church on Sundays. I leave for Sunday school at nine. Church is over at noon unless there is a special event, in which case you will need to find a way home because you will not be welcome to stay. Pastor Todd is a generous man but he discourages breaking bread with practiced sinners. You're welcome at Sunday school and worship service only...and you will be in attendance or you won't be living here." The parole board had paid the three hundred dollars the first three months and she had used the money and gift cards she had found in her boxed up stuff to get food and supplies she needed.

Her mother was a nurse and worked most nights. She had only accepted responsibility for her through the end of her parole because she would be gone from seven in the morning to ten at night most days. Friday through Sunday though, she was restricted to the basement unless she was with Chad or at church with her mother.

Her mom was getting into her car to leave for work, when they arrived. Chad got out first and her mother started.

"I'm on my way to work. I don't know where she is. She usually gets a ride home with Anna Kingston." She stated, moving with a purpose to her car.

"Its fine, Mrs. Q. She got out early so I went to pick her up." Chad smiled, understandingly. He knew that her mother and father had never believed she was innocent. Her sentencing had been too much on her dad though, and he had had a massive heart attack when she was arrested and stroke later that night and died that same day. She was in the county orange jumpsuit and hand cuffs at his funeral with a police escort. Her family was ashamed of her. They didn't acknowledge her. Mrs. Kingston was the only one that still believed in her innocence.

When she climbed out, her mother scowled at her and got into her car without another word.

Katie tried to hide the hurt. Her mother had barely looked at her since she had been home. She had never come to visit her at the prison. She had never written her back or accepted her calls either. Katie had soon stopped trying. She only got to write or call every few months any way. She knew that her family not only believed that she was guilty, but they blamed her for her father's death. They wanted nothing to do with her.

Katie watched as she pulled out of the driveway and sped off. Then, sighed and headed toward the back of the house, so she could go in through the basement door. "Thank you for the ride Officer Morgan."

He laughed, as he followed her to the back of the house. "Come on, Baby Girl. You can call me Chad. We were friends through high school. I don't see why we can't be friends now too."

She smiled sadly, "I'd rather keep it professional. You can call me whatever you want but, we aren't friends. In high school, you believed I wasn't guilty. Now you do. You can't be friends with people you don't trust." She didn't wait for his response. She just took her stuff and went inside and closed the door.

Her phone buzzed a second later and she read his text:

OFC MORGAN: I'm sorry

KATIE: It's all for the good.

Katie locked the door behind her and took her things to her basement bedroom. She was exhausted but, she knew she still had things to do. She wasn't hungry though; she ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner on campus. On weekends, in the beginning, she fasted for seventy-two hours until she discovered money and gift cards in her stuff in the basement. When she started making money, things got even better. Her parents had had the basement converted into a studio apartment before she graduated. He mom now charged her five hundred a month for rent and utilities but, she couldn't have a key to get in and out. She was afraid she would duplicate it and sneak stuff in and out after she left. Katie had bought a new door knob with keys herself but, she hadn't said anything to her mom about it. She was sure she snuck down there when she was gone to see what she had going on anyway.

She had found most of her stuff from her old room down there and used it. Her old daybed and other furniture was all down there for her to set up and decorate. Her old clothes were too big for her now because she had been fed and ate next to nothing in prison, but that was fine, she had learned to sew in middle and high school so she pulled out her mom's old sewing machine and fixed it and repurposed her clothes according to what she had seen on television and the internet since she had been out.

"It's only until the state can find somewhere else for you to be. I don't want you bringing your riff raff friends in and out of my house. "Her mother had told her. As far as she was concerned, her daughter had died the night she got arrested.

Chad was supposed to be working on getting her placed in low rent housing. Her money from her contracting job was going directly into her bank account. She thanked God every day that her parents had insisted that she set up the account before she turned eighteen. That was before she got arrested. They emancipated her when she turned eighteen because of the arrest and impending trial, which took their names off everything. All of the graduation money that had come in for her via PayPal at her parents' request, had gone directly into that account. She was grateful that some people hadn't done that though or she would have been sick and starving to death those first few weeks back home. Any gifts that came were still in boxes and packed up when she got out. She had received everything from towels and sheets to stove top burners and a microwave. She even had gift cards worth fifty to one hundred dollars each. She had sat down and gone through every Pay Pal transaction and every gift and sent thank you notes or e-mails with a detailed explanation about why they were fifteen years late. Most met with no response, others had pretty opinionated responses and asked that she not contact them again. No one asked for their stuff back though.

She showered and dressed in a tee shirt and leggings before setting her alarm and laying down to sleep. As always, the tears came the minute her head hit the pillow. It was the only time her mind wasn't so busy that it could pretend that everything was still okay.