I
John is a responsible man: he can be depended upon for many things, and he can do what is asked of him in an efficient, competent manner. He isn't book smart or anything, but he's got a hefty dash of street smarts to make up for it and just enough common sense to coast. That combination helps him succeed. He knows how to follow orders without complaint; John prides himself on obedience and diligence. He isn't always liked for his subservience. Rules are created for a reason, after all, and John chooses a life where he must follow the rules. It would make him a hypocrite to work in a prison only to break the rules.
He doesn't realize it, but his life will change in the blink of an eye. When it does, it hits him like a ton of bricks. Daya enters, her quiet confidence unreplicated; his eyes saw horrors, saw a scope of things no one did but here she is, glowing under the harshness of the prison house's fluorescent lights. His heart skips a beat just looking at her, the soft curves of her body a joy to behold and her rough emotional edges a layer of complexity to cherish. She is the kind of beautiful that he must savor, for it will be swept up in the tsunami of more intense emotions.
Somehow, compliance is much more difficult to accomplish; it is a balancing act John wasn't expecting to juggle. Their love happens in hushed whispers, an exhilarating secret that they must keep in their hearts, beating through their veins like an adrenaline rush. Their lives intertwining is like a dance with especially light, swift steps, where in-jokes are classified information, and affection is buried in the dirt where it's out of sight and mind; they are hidden in shadows, their touches clandestine and their bodies stuck lurking with the kind of beauty only reserved for foggy nights and romance . All of this movement around everyone's watchful eyes is a strategic maneuver, like chess: it required a meticulous eye and thoughtful planning. It was all too easy to let the world stop existing, and it hurts to think his life and her life weren't meant to be in any other situation.
Love hurts but in the best way possible, and John learns this the hard way: getting close to a forbidden woman who has mesmerised him. But it is a decision he stands by with pride that he cannot express. He may be at odds with his job, and the way his heart leads him will surely get him fired.
The pain of reality hasn't sunk in yet, and John hopes it stays that way. Love has wrapped her arms around him, and that kind of love is named Daya: it's intoxicating, an addiction whose fingers have wrapped around his heart indefinitely.
II
No one can describe the specifications of love's sting until it pierces through your heart long enough to warp your vision. Love happens slowly, subtly, in ways John never notices and then he wakes up wearing rose colored glasses. No one tells him that all of his surroundings have changed, and nothing will ever be the same; the rose tint has set in, and he's here for the long haul. Weeks and months pass like seconds, and it's a breeze to love Daya even though it shouldn't be; John likes the lack of complication. Daya doesn't really ask for much, all things considered, and John likes that. Most girls are high maintenance. They're often too much for John to handle, but not Daya.
They are in love, and no outside force stop them.
In the blink of an eye, John cannot take the pressure of his heart. The sacrifice his heart cashed to the romance bank bounced, and the honeymoon phase crashes around his feet. It's not like he's out of love with Daya: it's more complicated than that. But seeing her natural habitat creates a fear of claustrophobia he can't shake, and it's not fair that he can't blame outside forces for this one. It's John's own damn fault for loving someone he shouldn't have. John makes mistakes, as do all humans, but loving Daya shouldn't have been the mistake that shakes him to his core. He has to escape, and fast. Running away from his job, from his life, is the only answer. It's a coward's choice, and goes against all rules John understands as truth. But he cannot live the life he'd have with Daya. Even though his dreams are shattered into dust he cannot clean up, John cannot accept a world where his future is awful.
John hates to admit it, but a life where he married Daya and had children with her would only bring pain. He cannot articulate why this sudden change of heart slapped him across the face with such acute, abrupt intensity out of nowhere.
John does the only thing he knows best: drive. He's going to Philadelphia, whether or not anyone cares.
III
The drive from Litchfield to Philadelphia clocks in at a little over five hours, with medium amounts of traffic and minimal pit stops. John's got family in Philly: his younger cousin Asher lives there. John chuckles at the thought of Asher studying law. it's fitting, because it seems lawfulness runs in the family.
John's mother and Asher's mother are sisters who haven't had much to do with each other in the past ten years or so, beyond saccharine holiday cards and tense birthday calls once a year. Asher's a good kid, if not a sheltered moron, but John likes him well enough. They're six years apart, and pretty similar in terms of hobbies despite being on the opposite side of the tracks: Asher grew up so rich it made John sick, and John was significantly more guarded than Asher. Despite a few things stacked against them, they somehow grew up being able to relate to each other the most; there weren't many cousins to bond with, so John and Asher had to make due.
Getting Asher's address is too much of a cinch. John makes one phone call to his beleaguered mother,who acquiesces too quickly.
"What's in Philladelphia, anyway?" She asks, but the question's rhetorical. John knows that she harbors enough resentment for her sister and nephew that she's entitled to question John's intentions.
"I needed a vacation," John responds lightly, and that's not really a lie. He appreciates, secretly, she clearly doesn't care enough to badger John as to why he's not at work in New York or why he's going to Pennsylvania on a whim.
"Works for me. I'll only tell you the address once," she responds, and barks out the address. They don't talk for much longer, because time is money and she could be spending her time watching reruns of her favorite procedurals.
When he gets on the road, John's a little too solemn. This should've been a stress-relieving, liberating road trip. Absconding from responsibility shouldn't have brought him so much shame and guilt, but he supposes it's what's the best for abandoning his unborn child and prisoner girlfriend. He's broken a flurry of rules all at once, and the law abiding citizen within him can't stand this change in character.
Knocking on the door of his estranged bougie braniack cousin shouldn't have been this confusing.
IV
John didn't care much that he currently slept on a couch that cost more than his last four paychecks combined. He also didn't care that he lived on take-out pizza, dollar ramen bought in bulk, and off brand alcohol from a convenience store down the street. What he did mind the most is that Asher talks too damn much. All Asher does is ask questions.
"Are the prisoners hot? How many fights did you see? Is the pay any good?" Asher babbles on and on for so long that John isn't really paying any attention. Asher backs down after a few moments, just barely realizing that John is zoned out. John's pathetic, and he can't handle human responsibility but at least he's not at rock bottom yet. That comes later.
It takes a few days of hibernation to realize John hasn't showered in a few days, and he's in dire need of a shower and a shave. With a scratch to the chin, John realizes he hasn't had this much facial hair since he was nineteen trying to impress a girl who didn't even give a shit about him. John feels better when he realizes that he's in control of his own life, and cleans up enough to remember that he's got all the freedom to do what he wants without repercussion.
Maybe lawlessness suits him a lot better than he realizes.