"You um... be good for aunt Chaleen, ok." AJ sighed, crouched down to Dylan and Heidi, tidying them up, her motherly instincts kicking in as she zipped Dylan's sweater right up so no cold air got to his little chest.

Chaleen had flew out to Vegas and was collected Dylan and Heidi at the airport to take them to Chicago. If there was one person the twins trusted after their mother, it was their aunt. And AJ trusted Chaleen with them more than she did with anyone.

"When we come home?" Heidi asked her mother curiously. She didn't like being away from her mother for too long, as much as she loved her aunt and going to Chicago.

"In a few days, sweetheart." AJ smiled. She stood so defiantly, her little jeans tucked into her beige ugg boots with her loose pull over jumper sitting comfy on her small body.

"When we come home, can we go to the park? There aren't no good ones in Chicago." Dylan sighed as AJ smiled, cupping his cheek.

"Of course we can, baby." AJ nodded, "I'll see you both really soon. Ok?" She said, pulling them both into her, her head stuck in the middle of them whilst hugging their little bodies, feeling them hug back tightly. She always hated parting her ways from them, it killed her, but she knew what was best. She couldn't go pick Punk up and take him straight to them. That wasn't fair on the twins, or Punk.

"Bye, mommy." Dylan smiled as he took hold of Chaleen's hand, Heidi taking hold of the other one.

AJ stood up straight, "Thank you." AJ smiled to Chaleen, "I'd be lost without you." She sighed.

"Don't worry about it." Chaleen smiled, "Just text me when you see him. Tell him to call, write... anything." Chaleen said.

"I will." AJ nodded.

"Ok, you two." Chaleen looked down to the twins, "You guys ready to go on the big aeroplane? Huh? Let's figure out which seats you want... you got snacks?" Chaleen spoke with the twins who piped excitedly back to her, walking away as AJ watched, not leaving until she seen Chaleen walk through customs and down to their gate.

Now she really was alone. But she wouldn't be soon. Tomorrow, she was seeing her husband for the first time in three years. Three long, draining years. He had missed so much. It would take her weeks to fill him in, maybe even months.

She turned on heel, heading out of the airport and walking to her car.

She was terrified. Her heart was racing already and she wasn't leaving until tomorrow. She dreamt about it for so long. In fact, it was the dreams of him that kept her going. But now, she didn't know if she was ready. What if this absence from each other ruined what they had? What if they could never reconnect after being away from each other for so long? It was all factors that worried her. What if he came out and didn't want to see her or the twins? No... now she was just scaring herself.

"Ok, that's the last. You can take this back to your cell to read." A guard croaked as Punk caught the paper in his hands, "Information about your parole officer, how often you need to see him after you've been released, contact number. Just read it, ok?"

"Ok." Punk mumbled, standing up and being escorted out of the office at the back of the cell blocks, being taken back to his cell where he was heading to sleep his last night in.

It felt unreal. Three years. Had it really been that long?

Don't get him wrong. Every passing day felt like one year. But he was just overwhelmed knowing he was getting out of this place tomorrow. He hadn't changed as much as what he thought he would have. He'd gained more mass and improved on his reading skills, but apart from that, he was pretty much the same Phil he came in as, just a little less heartfelt.

It hurt to think about April and the twins now. More than ever. Knowing that his children were turning four crushed him. He must have missed so much. He knew he was coming out of here and into their lives as nothing but a stranger.

Prison conditions only got worse from his first tragic week. His showers began to get limited for some reason. His mouth hadn't touched any solid foods in three years. He'd lived off mush and plastic cutlery. Not to mention he'd had a riping, aching cough for a week now. His cell mate, the rapist, (the man was too scum to call by name) he was still here and still smoking. Punk wasn't surprised if he came out with some sort of lung problem himself.

Although he had been dreaming about this day from the moment he got sentenced, he was scared, if that was such a thing coming out of a three year prison sentence. But he was. He was scared to see April and the twins. He told her to move on, and clearly she had done that. What if... what if she had moved on with another man? What if she didn't want him anymore? He'd been gone for so long. He didn't doubt her loyalty. But three years was a lot, especially for a mother raising two children. His children... he couldn't wait to see them, but he felt so stupid for even thinking they'd come running into his arms. They didn't know him. Regardless if AJ had told them about him or not, they were young and no doubt shy. He didn't know them, it hurt him to say that, but he didn't. He didn't know what they liked, what sort of natures they had, what their favourite colour, programme, movie, dinner, breakfast, toy was... he knew nothing besides their names and birthdays, and how much he loved them. The rest was just a mystery until he got out.

What if he had missed too much?

He was willing to fight for his kids and his wife. He'd do whatever it took to have them back the way he had them before he left.

He couldn't wait to get out and do simple things like, take a hot shower whenever he wanted to, eat whatever he wanted to whenever he wanted to, drink soda again, sleep on a soft bed, with soft pillows and a warm duvet, leave his house without having to be cuffed. Things that he never thought twice about before he was sentenced.

He still got nightmares about his first week in prison and his former cell mate, Dylan. He said it back then, he would never ever forget that image when he woke up and saw... that horrifying sight. Not a day went by where he didn't think about Dylan.

But it seemed like him being a decent man in here compared to the rest, did put a huge target on his back. He had the bruises and scars to show for it on his body. It seemed like he had taken Dylan's spot in the punching bag position. He'd fight back. A trained boxer like him, he would have destroyed any of them given a one on one fight, but it normally wasn't one on one. More like ten on one.

He wondered if he'd be able to tell April about Dylan, and his experiences in this hell. He wondered if he could ever tell anyone anything anymore. In here had made him nothing more than a troubled little boy who bottled everything up and never spoke. What if he couldn't open up to her? She'd want to know how he got the scars and bruises on his stomach when they finally got to reconnect intimately. God... he'd thought about that night for the full length of his conviction. Her body, her moans, her touch. He thought about it all. There was no relief in here. He couldn't even put his hands down his pants if he wanted to. The jumpsuit was in the way, and he was also sharing a room with a rapist. That was the last thing he was going to do.

He looked the same, but he didn't feel the same. This place had ripped his soul out throughout the three years of being in here. And part of his heart. The only part of his heart that was the still beating was the part April had hold of along with their children. They were the only thing he had now, and come tomorrow... this could all just be a nightmare? Wether it'd be a nightmare he'd be able to forget. He wasn't so convinced.

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