Day Break

CHAPTER ONE

"Our eternal message of hope

is that dawn will come."

- Martin Luther King, Jr.

Iremembered the worst days of my life and stupidly believed that they were behind me. I was convinced that I was going to finally be freed from my enslavement. Freed from the chains that had bound me for all twenty-six years of my life. I’d spent half of that life as a wife, controlled by the monster that waited in the darkness, who caused me to cower in fear every waking moment of my life.

But he couldn’t hurt me anymore.

He’d been the beast that demanded everything from me and then required even more, always more. There wasn’t enough in heaven or on earth to sate his hunger. Every move I made, he watched.

He had fed on what I was, what I could give, day and night. He’d seemed starved for attention. My attention.

The monster changed over the years, as did the demands, but always he had claimed what he saw as his right. And it seemed I was the only provider of the sustenance he required.

I knew later on that I wasn’t the only one who had suffered at the foul demon’s hands. Nor, I wagered, would I be the last.

Since I was finally free, at least for the time being, he would be forced to go elsewhere for his nutrition.

What are you in for? the woman sitting next to me asked.

I blinked, trying desperately not to let the tears that burned the back of my eyes fall. I knew better than to show weakness. I glanced over at the older woman and ran my eyes over her heavily lined face. I took in her frizzy gray hair and her thin lips. She bit them, and they were chapped around the edges from the cold air that was coming through the open windows of the bus.

I desperately wished to be her. To have her life, no matter how hard it had been.

Instead of answering her, I turned back towards the front and watched the tall city buildings grow farther apart from one another.

I didn’t talk to strangers.

I wasn’t here to make friends.

I no longer cared what anyone thought of me. Or if they thought of me at all.

I was dead inside.

All of my emotions had perished at someone else’s hands years ago.

Would I ever feel anything again?

Why did I even care?

Hey, sweetie, I didn’t mean to scare you, the older woman said, trying once again to spark up a conversation. It’s a long trip up the river. I just thought we’d pass the time.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head on the window. It was cold. Too cold. Still, instead of jumping away or laying my head against the back of the seat, I suffered. Once again. The iciness numbing my skin was the only reminder that I was still alive.

I must have fallen asleep at one point, and when the bus came to a stop, I jerked awake. Gut reaction. Every muscle in my body tensed, every nerve ending ready for what was to come.

Then I remembered nothing was there.

Off, someone said loudly.

I stood, as did the rest of the women on the bus. I didn’t look to see who I was riding with.

I didn’t care.

I felt nothing.

Standing in line, I kept my eyes on my shoes.

Dull gray sneakers. Their white laces had turned a muddy white.

Sarah Meyers, someone called out.

They said it three times before I finally lifted my head.

Yes, I said in a low voice.

Suddenly, a large woman with noticeably short hair shoved her face directly in front of mine. She had nice eyes.

When I call your name, answer me. I won’t wait around for you. This isn’t some preppy bullshit school. Got that?

When she talked, spit flew out of her mouth and landed on my nose, eyes, cheeks, and lips.

I didn’t care.

I felt nothing.

I nodded and returned my gaze to my shoes.

I was shoved until I followed everyone else as we made our way through tall metal fences. We passed several gates and then went through some doors that swung open and shut once we were all inside. We were crowded into a narrow hallway, then led into a large room.

I didn’t even think to look around to see where we were going.

I didn’t care.

I felt nothing.

The sounds of the last door shutting behind me would eventually echo in my mind during the darkest parts of the nights. The moments when I was forced to be alone with myself. Forced to own up to my own deep fears. To the anxieties that I had never even admitted to myself.

But for now.

I didn’t care.

I felt nothing.

A bunch of items were tossed at me. Since I was still staring down at my shoes, they hit my chest and fell to the floor.

I bent slowly and started to pick them up, but I was shoved from behind and fell headfirst into the table.

Everyone in the room laughed at me. Only the shrill sound of a whistle stopped the laughter.

The large woman was back, yelling at me, inches from my face, spit spewing over my skin.

What are you? A troublemaker? she screamed.

I blinked and didn’t respond.

Something flashed deep in her eyes. If I had blinked at that very moment, I would have missed it. But I hadn’t.

Pick up your things, she screamed at me, and then she disappeared.

I bent once more to gather the items.

A gray jumpsuit. More gray shoes like the ones I was currently wearing, only with laces that were white and new. A boxed bar of soap. A new toothbrush and small tube of toothpaste. A box of tampons. A Bible.

I held the items to my chest as I was escorted through another doorway.

As we moved through the last gate, names were called out, along with a letter and a number.

Andrés, C2

Clark, C4

Marquez, C5

Meyers, C7

I jumped when someone shoved me from behind.

You’re here, they said.

I took two steps until I entered what would be my new world. When the door slammed behind me, I flinched, not prepared for the sound that reverberated in the small space.

You get used to it, someone said in the dark room.

I blinked a few times until my eyes adjusted. Then I glanced up and noticed a large Latino woman sitting on the upper bunk. Her hair was dyed a bright yellow and cut so short I could see her scalp in places. She wore the same jumpsuit I had on, only her sleeves were rolled up, showcasing arms that were covered in faded tattoos.

I won’t bite. At least not when we’re alone. She smiled. That was when I noticed that one of her canine teeth was missing. The other one was capped. I’m Lucy. She ran her eyes over me. Do you have a name besides Meyers? She mimicked the guard’s tone.

That’s not my name, I said quickly.

I knew what she was seeing when she continued to run her eyes over me.

I was skinny, lanky, pale.

My naturally blonde hair was ratted and pulled back into a ponytail. My skin looked washed out, almost translucent.

My blue eyes were no doubt red and puffy, even though I’d held back the tears. So far. They were dead inside, much like I was.

Lucy’s eyebrows shot up. Okay, then what is your name?

I looked back at my shoes as I stood rod straight just inside the room.

Sarah Meyers was dead. I’d killed her to survive.

I heard the woman moving around in the room but didn’t let my eyes waver from my shoes. I could feel the burning behind them grow.

I didn’t care.

I felt nothing.

No matter how many times I said it to myself, I just couldn’t force my heart to believe those words.

To my horror, tears fell from my eyes and landed on my dull gray sneakers.

Then Lucy’s face appeared between my nose and my shoes, blurry from the tears. She must have been bending over and practically upside down so she could see my face.

You get one night of self-pity. That’s the rules around here, Lucy said firmly, her eyes boring into mine. After that, you gotta put on your big girl panties like the rest of us. Understand?

I swallowed and closed my eyes as I nodded. When I shut my eyes, I sealed off the rest of my tears. I told myself that was all I would allow myself to shed.

Good. The bottom bunk is yours, Lucy said cheerfully. She jumped easily onto her bunk. Those bitches even take that choice away from us.

I set my things on the lower bunk before sitting down. The mattress reminded me of one I’d slept on at a motel long ago. Back when I had foolishly believed that I could fight for my freedom all by myself. The first and only time I’d tried to escape. That move had cost me dearly.

Hey, not Meyers, Lucy said from her spot on the top bunk. I’ll trade you some smokes for that new bar of soap.

I don’t smoke, I said, looking at the pale green cement wall across from the bunk.

There was a small sink and a toilet in the room. Despite the grittiness of the entire place, the space was clean.

Hm… Lucy made a noise above me. How about some nail polish?

I looked down at my hands. At my nails. They were cut short. I had never had color on them. It hadn’t been allowed.

More expectations forced onto me.

No, thank you, I answered.

Lucy’s upside-down head appeared directly in front of mine.

Well, what do you want, not Meyers? she asked, her eyes running over my face again.

I thought about it. In my heart, I knew there was nothing she or anyone else had that would lift the heavy weight pulling me down.

Do you have any books? I asked on a whim. Then I held up the Bible that I’d been given. Other than this one?

Lucy smiled. A brainiac? Her eyes narrowed. "Or maybe you’re into smut? I don’t got none of that Fifty Shades shit, Lucy said, disappearing from my view. But I do got this." She reappeared holding a small, tattered book.

I looked at the title and for the first time in days, a smile caused the corners of my lips to curve upward.

Somehow, in one of my darkest hours, Byron had found me.

Reaching up, I took the frayed copy of Don Juan and then handed my new bar of soap to Lucy.

Yep, called it, you’re a brainiac. Lucy chuckled. I couldn’t get through two pages of that one.

I scooted back until my back was against the cold cement wall, hugging the book to my chest like a treasure. Then I tucked my knees up to my chest and just looked down at the cover. I could barely make out the image on the front, but I knew it so well, I closed my eyes and pulled it into my mind from memory.

No, I didn’t need any more tears.

I had my closest friend, the best lover that I’d ever had.

A book.

One that I loved and had read from cover to cover half a dozen times. There were only a handful of books I could say that about.

Hey, not Meyers. You good under there? Lucy asked.

Chloe, I said softly. I could no longer stomach my real name. I didn’t want one more person to call me Sarah Meyers. That woman was dead.

Suddenly, Lucy’s face appeared again. Her upside-down smile looked strange. Her eyes went over me as if she were trying to figure me out.

I think we’re going to get along just fine, Chloe, she said, before disappearing again.

I didn’t sleep that first night. Most of the night, I sat in my bunk, hugging my book to my chest. It was too dark to read. Then they had called lights out and seconds later the entire place went pitch black.

It was so dark that I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face. It took minutes for my eyes to adjust.

I could hear Lucy snoring softly in the bunk above me.

I felt more tears try to come. Instead, I opened my book as if I could see it clearly. In my mind, I tried to run over the words from memory, but my memory wasn’t as great as I’d imagined it would be. Instead of each line appearing in my head, only some of the great ones flashed quickly in my mind.

"Nothing so difficult as a beginning

In poesy, unless perhaps the end;

For oftentimes when Pegasus seems winning

The race, he sprains a wing, and down we tend,

Like Lucifer when hurled from

Heaven for sinning;

Our sin the same, and hard as his to mend,

Being Pride, which leads the mind to

soar too far,

Till our own weakness shows us what we are."

This passage played over in my mind until I noticed the first slivers of light. I didn’t understand why it stuck in my mind. I had read it more than a hundred times. Memorized it. It seemed to touch something deep in me.

When I heard Lucy stirring above me, I knew that the quiet was about to come to an end.

My very first day in prison was about to begin. Would all the other women I was to be locked up with be as kind as the old woman on the bus and Lucy? I knew it wasn’t possible.

After the life I’d had so far, I wasn’t hopeful.

A loud buzzing sound caused me to jump again.

Lucy’s face appeared over the bunk. Her eyes scanned my face, and then she jumped off the top bunk and landed at my feet.

If you’re shy, turn around, she said before dropping her pants and using the toilet.

I quickly averted my eyes and looked down at my book. It was finally light enough that I could read the words on the pages.

I hunted down the quote I’d been replaying in my head all night and sighed when I found it.

I had remembered it, line for line, perfectly.

You need to use it? Lucy asked as she washed her hands in the sink and started to brush her teeth.

I’ll wait, I answered, being too shy to even think about going to the bathroom with a stranger in the room.

There was another loud buzzing sound, and our door flew open.

Welp. Lucy rubbed her hands together. I’m going to get in line for breakfast. She reached up into her bunk and grabbed something before disappearing out the door.

I watched several other people pass by the opened door but waited.

When I believed the coast was clear, I rushed to use the toilet, my eyes glued to the open door for fear someone would see me. They didn’t. No one passed by.

I washed my hands, only then remembering that I’d given away my bar of soap. I allowed the water to wash over them for as long as I dared.

When my stomach growled, I turned off the water, stuck my copy of Don Juan in my pocket, then slipped on my new shoes. They instantly hurt my feet, and I changed back to the old ones.

Leaving my things on my bunk, I stepped out the door and looked around. I could hear the hum of many voices talking at the same time to the right of me and followed the sound until I stepped into a large two-story room.

There were more than two dozen long tables with attached benches arranged in rows in the middle of the room. Close to fifty women of all shapes, sizes, and ethnicities stood in line in dull gray jumpsuits, holding trays.

I made my way to the end of the line, picked up a tray, and waited my turn.

I didn’t speak to anyone.

No one spoke to me.

I ate my tasteless breakfast and sucked down my burned coffee.

It flashed through my mind that I’d be eating tasteless food for the next year of my life, and I gulped in air and bit my lip to try and stop the flood of emotions.

I chanted in my head that it didn’t matter, that I didn’t care, until the flood of sadness dissipated.

I sat there until only a handful of women were left in the dining room. Most had left in large groups through a door at the end of a short hallway.

Every time the door opened, I could see sunlight streaming in.

When I was done eating, I took my tray to the tray return area and slowly made my way to the outdoor courtyard.

It was early spring in the Northwest, so though the sun was shining, the wind was cold, and I wondered if they would provide warmer clothes.

Who you? someone said behind me.

I turned to see a short young woman. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen years old. One of her eyes shot off to the outside and was obviously not working properly. The other focused on my face.

I moved out of the doorway, believing this would end the conversation. It didn’t. The woman took a giant step towards me, her eyes narrowing.

I said, she spat out, who you?

Chloe. I turned to move further out of her way.

Suddenly, my long ponytail was yanked back. My chin was raised to the sky as I flew backwards to the ground.

The woman held onto my hair, yanking harder than I’d ever felt before. Several strands popped out of my scalp.

Who you? the woman continued to scream as she jumped on my stomach and slapped my face. She scratched my hands and neck, any exposed flesh.

Flashbacks to all the times I’d been pushed, shoved, slapped, and hit suddenly boiled up inside me.

I’d given others everything I was.

Had everything taken from me.

They’d made me feel as if I deserved it. As if it was my burden. My sole reason for existing.

I’d never really learned to stand up for myself.

Well, I was tired of it. This had to stop. It had to end.

A low growl sounded from deep in my chest, and I screamed at the top of my lungs as I shoved the woman off me. I pushed her into the cold dirt and sat on her chest, holding her down just like she’d done to me.

My skin burned from where she’d attacked me, though I barely noticed.

I swung out—clawing, slapping, punching—until strong arms lifted me away.

As I was carried back inside, my eyes were glued to the destroyed copy of Don Juan lying in the mud beside the unconscious woman who had just attacked me.

I didn’t realize I was still screaming until we passed through the dining room. My loud shrieking echoed in the large space.

I was mad.

I had obviously lost it. At this point, I no longer cared. My sanity was just one more thing that had been taken from me.

That thought had my mind sharpening.

I stilled. My body went limp as I was carried down another hallway and tossed unceremoniously onto a hard floor.

Without a word, the door shut behind me, and I was left in complete darkness. Alone.

I curled up into a tight ball, holding my knees to my chest and rocking back and forth.

I didn’t cry.

I made no sounds as I lay on the cold ground, my clothes torn, my bruised body shivering with the chill.

I didn’t care.

I felt nothing.

I didn’t know how long I lay there. I didn’t care. I slept for a while. How long, I had no clue.

My only thoughts were of just how dark it was in the room, twice as dark as my room the night before.

Several times, panic tried to creep into my mind. It screamed warning signs that I was blind. That I would never see again. There wasn’t even a sliver of light from under the doorway.

Even though I couldn’t see, I could at least still hear. Dull, faint sounds reverberated off the thick metal door.

My ears strained to make sense of the voices down the long hallways, trying to turn murmurs into words that I could understand. I gave up trying when everything outside grew quieter and more distant.

I didn’t even try to explore the space. I didn’t care how big or small it was. I lay there in the same spot they had tossed me until the door was opened.

My bladder was full thanks to the coffee I’d drunk hours before. Or had it been days? I didn’t know how long I’d been in there.

My eyes hurt when I stepped out into the sunlight, and I had to blink many times to get them to adjust. I stumbled against the wall. Hands shoved me, and I walked like a blind person back down the hallway and once more into the dining room.

Again, there was a line. Without thinking, I picked up a tray and waited for my food.

This meal was a slab of lasagna with bread.

Dinner.

When I sat down this time, three others came over and sat next to me.

Two were skinny Caucasians, one old with jet black hair, the other a redhead who was around my age. The third woman was a petite Hispanic woman roughly in her forties.

That was sure fun watching you take out Crazy Carlie, the redhead said. I’m Sam, this is Lindy. She pointed to the older dark-haired woman. And that’s Rizzo. She pointed to the other one.

I watched them until she stopped talking, then I turned back to my food.

Did they stick you in the hole? Rizzo asked.

I glanced up and shrugged.

You lose track of everything in there, Lindy said.

The three of them were eating and didn’t seem to be too bothered that I hadn’t spoken yet. They just continued chatting as if I was an active part of the conversation.

In case you don’t know, it’s the same day. Dinner time, Rizzo said.

I nodded and continued eating. I wasn’t even hungry, but I didn’t know when I’d be able to eat again, so I figured I’d better finish every bite. What I needed was a bathroom. I didn’t know if there were common ones or if I had to make my way back to my own room. It didn’t matter. I’d been forced to hold it in before.

Listen, we don’t want you to get the impression that this place is all… crazy. Like Carlie. Sure, there are a handful of people you should steer clear of, but for the most part, we look out for one another in here, Rizzo said.

At least in here, you can pick and choose your fights, Lindy added.

They grew quiet, so I lifted my head and realized they were all watching me.

You made a statement earlier, Sam said, motioning with her spoon. Ain’t no one going to mess with you. Not after that show you put on. You knocked out one of Crazy Carlie’s teeth.

I went back to eating my food as the three of them continued to talk like I wasn’t there. Though I appeared to be the hot topic of the hour.

I was thankful they weren’t demanding that I take part in their conversation. When I was done eating, I returned my tray and made my way back to my cell.

Thankfully, Lucy wasn’t there, and I had plenty of time to empty my bladder and clean up. I flung myself on my bed and closed my eyes and allowed the entire world to drop off. I hadn’t really slept in the hole. I’d just gone into a trance.

Somehow, I’d exited the space more tired than I’d been when I’d been shoved inside.

I woke later when something light landed on my chest.

You should keep track of your things better, Lucy said, jumping up to the top bunk.

I blinked a few times and looked down at the destroyed book. She’d taken the time to clean the mud and dirt from the cover and had even taped the spine so that the book hadn’t fallen completely apart.

Heard you destroyed Crazy Carlie after breakfast, Lucy said with a chuckle. I knew you’d have it in you to stand your ground. Her face appeared once more over the side of the bunk. You made your point. I wouldn’t go picking any more fights, though. There are a handful in here that you don’t want to mess with. Trust me. She rubbed a bald spot on the side of her head before she disappeared up top again.

I sat in the bunk, silently reading Lord Byron until the lights went out.

I had officially survived my first full day in prison. I only had three hundred sixty-four to go.

CHAPTER TWO

"Each time dawn appears,

the mystery is there in its entirety."

- Rene Daumal

Istood in the early morning sunlight, not quite feeling its warmth. I held the light jacket to myself, trying to keep out the cold wind that somehow blew through my entire body.

I had less than ten dollars to my name.

I didn’t have a job.

I had no family or friends.

I was completely alone. Not a single person I knew had stayed in contact with me over the past year. Not that I’d had many friends to begin with.

I hadn’t been allowed to have people close to me, lest they see through the web of lies and find out the truth.

But officially, my last name was no longer Meyers.

I was free.

Tossing the small bag with all of my possessions in it over my shoulder, I glanced to the right, then to the left.

Which way to go?

Without thought I turned my body to the sun and started walking.

In the past year, I’d realized that I had no idea where the correctional facility was. I didn’t really know the area.

I still didn’t care.

I still felt nothing.

I walked until my feet hurt. Then I walked some more. I grew hungry and tired. Thirsty. I continued walking.

When I came to the water, I thought of stopping or turning around. Then I noticed a ferry a few yards down the road.

I paid five dollars and eighty cents to cross Puget Sound and head to Whidbey Island. I’d never been on an island before. But I figured it was as good as any place.

One thing was sure—I no longer wanted to be in the city. In the last year, I’d heard horror stories from others about how bad the homeless situation had become in Seattle.

Women who had no place to go were being raped or killed. Many of the women in the facility