Prologue

I've decided that the worst color on earth is mustard yellow.

It's not inviting, it's not familiar, it sparks no sense of nostalgia and after staring at it for almost 20 minutes, it starts to remind you of urine.

The woman next to me shivered slightly and wrapped her knit cardigan over her large chest tightly. The movement reminded me of my bare legs, and I resisted the urge to smooth my skirt and try to push the seem just a tad lower.

The air was cold, stagnant and uncomfortable under the florescent lights above. And the awful mustard yellow sign was illuminated in such away that it reflected down onto the polished linoleum floor, the letters distorting themselves slightly.

"WELCOME TO EVERGREEN STATE PRISON."

I thought absentmindedly that maybe the sign should have been painted a more forest green as the northwest name entailed, when two men appeared through a office door.

One man was short and had a very wide and generous face. His tweed jacket was slightly frayed at the collar, and somehow that added to his charm. He turned to the woman beside me and asked for her hand.

The other man, wearing a dark blue button down and slacks smiled at the couple as they thanked him and headed for the door. A moment after their departure his gaze connected with mine.

"Ms. Swan?"

I nodded and rose, offering my hand. "Mr. Long?"

He took my hand in both of his and shook them warmly, his kind blue eyes wrinkling slightly in the corners as he smiled at me.

"I'm glad to see you Ms. Swan. How was your flight in? It's been raining pretty hard all day." As he spoke he gestured me into the room he was just emerging from.

"The rain was actually pretty welcome. In Phoenix our equivalent tends to be dust storms. So I'm pretty refreshed."

He laughed and handed me a small manilla envelope. "Well dust storms certainly aren't a problem here. Here's all your identification we spoke about as well as your key cards. As I said on the phone, everything here is accessed through our personalized cards, so I wouldn't loan them out."

"Gotcha." I peeked inside the envelope, scanning quickly through the folded document and took out a copy of my ID.

The picture they had gotten for the card was one I had posed for at a professional photography studio down in Phoenix, which I had sent in after the job was offered.

My lips were tight in the photo, and my eyes just a tad off center from the camera. I recognized my telltale signs of discomfort, but hoped I'd hidden it well.

As Renee always said, I was an introvert wearing an extroverts clothes.

Today that meant I was wearing a black pencil skirt and a olive green blouse that cinched in at the waist, but kept the neckline modest. My attire was deliberately discreet. I had worked hard for my PhD, and I wanted no reason to not be taken seriously. I was new here, and I wanted to be welcomed warmly, but also respected.

After discussing some security points, and introducing me to the reception area and a few guards, I was led to a long corridor.

This is the Mental Health Center. The care staff you'll be leading all reside in the offices in this hall. You've got Rosalie, Jessica, Marissa, and Mike." He attached each name with a gesture to a closed door. "Rosalie and Marissa are the senior techs, they respond to the more at-risk inmates, and refer out to our call in psychiatrist if need be. Mike and Jessica are newer, still working on their Bachelors. They usually split the dailies and in the afternoons take the add-ons."

We moved our way through the hallway as he spoke, and I glanced in one of the open doorways.

A blonde with long delicate lashes brushing her cheeks, was typing skillfully on her laptop. Her desktop was neatly organized, and I noticed with a smile that her pens were arranged color coded in her "Dont Call Me Princess" mug.

Mr. Long noticed my gaze and followed it into the office. "Ah good, at least one of them isn't buried underneath behavior reports. Rosalie, meet Ms. Swan, your new director."

Rosalie paused a moment and looked up at me. "I didn't realize you were arriving today." She moved to get to her feet.

I raised my hand to stop her. "You don't need to be interrupted. I am just getting settled in. My first official day is tomorrow."

Rosalie's eyes scanned over me in a calculating motion, no doubt assessing her new lead. She raised her hand. "Rosalie Hale, but I go by Rose."

I shook her hand. "I'm Bella."

Her hands were cool and soft, but firm. Her eyes warned of a steel backbone and a tendency to distrust. My gaze held hers, and I met her firmness.

"Bella it is then. No Dr. Bella?" She teased, half joking.

I smiled back, determined to meet her test to test. "Dr. Bella sounds like a pediatrician. I hope that's not our patient base here."

Mr. Long chuckled and Rosalie released my hand, satisfied at least with my response. "You'd be surprised. I have to get back to work, but it was nice meeting you Bella, come stop by if I can help with anything." After a friendly nod to me and Mr. Long, she absorbed herself back into the screen in front of her.

Mr. Long offered his arm, and led me towards the last office. The door was a different color than the others, this one was painted a light blue, whereas the others were all in theme with the mustard yellow.

"Rosalie is a good one. You'll have to forgive her if she seems cautious. The last director that was here lasted only three weeks. She just wants stability. Anyway, this one is yours. Forgive the paint job, the director before you asked it be painted to a more soothing color. She brought in the paint and rollers and did it herself when I told her there was no budget for it."

I turned the door handle, and pushed it open, revealing an aggressively baby blue ceiling and walls. In the center of the room was a white desk, carrying a midline computer humming quietly.

"Wow." I wondered out was certainly an interesting way to cope with the daily stress of prison reform and mental health.

Mr. Long sighed, "I know. If you can't stand it, I'll hire a crew to at least try to remove it, and repaint. But we really don't have it in the numbers this month. Think you can stick it out?"

I nodded, my lips curling slightly at the edges. "Dont worry. It's kind of charming. I'll be ok."

Mr. Long seemed relieved. "Good. I mean, thank you. I promise it's not permanent."

I stepped in and took a breath. 1400 miles, a 3 hour flight, and a rainstorm sent me into this room, covered in sky blue paint.

A quote came to mind after Mr. Long had left and I began to organize the boxes I had shipped in from home.

"Do not despise humble beginnings. The Son of God began His life in a humble manger." Miriam Kinai

I wasn't a religious woman, but the words seem comforting against the artificial colors around me and stacks of papers.

I looked down at the label of the package.

"A new beginning." I whispered, tearing the sticker off the cardboard.