A/N: Thank you SarcasticBimbo for your amazing Beta work.
EPOV
Twenty-three hours a day can seem like nothing to most people, except when you're an inmate of the federal prison system. I had been sentenced to fifteen years for drug possession with intent to distribute, and yeah, I'd been a distributor, that's what my family does; my generation, my father, and my grandfather.
We move the drugs, the guns and the women, although I'd never been one to do any kind of business in human trafficking, I let Jasper, my brother, handle that shit. But I knew how to tell you about kick-ass coke, where you could get good quality, pure fucking product.
Then I got too arrogant. I made my own runs, I had to have my hands on everything. I had to know who my dealers where, and if I didn't trust you, I did it myself. My dad had told me many times to be involved but to never let my hands get too dirty. I was a micro-manager, a perfectionist, and that would prove to be my downfall.
The night I was arrested I had just gotten in a huge shipment. This shit had come directly from Brazil' coke so pure that the drug sniffing dogs couldn't smell it. I picked it up and was gonna take it to one of my boys in Jersey to cut it.
I was pretty fucked up that night. I was tired as I had been on a straight-up paper chase for the last three days. I had been taking Ritalin to keep myself awake and mixed it with a few shots of Cîroc. I was on the turnpike. I had four bricks of weed, and about twelve kilos of coke. I didn't even look at how fast I was going when the cop pulled in behind me. The second that the cop lit me up, I knew I was done for.
I had the best attorneys money could buy. My father and uncles had pulled out all the stops to make this go away, but at the end of it all, I got a judge who hated me because of my last name, and he made an example of me. A simple possession charge turned into large quantity with intent to distribute, and because I had a few minor offenses on my record, he labeled me as an habitual offender. The second he recessed us for my sentence to be determined at a later date, I knew I was fucked.
The days before my sentencing in county lock-up were pure fucking hell. The assholes who thought they were bigger and badder than me tried me one time. One was found two days later with his hands cut off. I think they got the message. The only thing was: I had nothing to do with it. I merely mentioned to my lawyer that I was tested on the yard; somehow it got back to my father. My father was the unknown killer that they called the ghost. He was responsible for so much shit but no one could ever make a case stick to him. The next day, the very same guy that had fucked with me was found with his hands cut off, a clear message: Don't put your hands on what's ours.
I shake off the memory, and then, as vivid as if it happened yesterday, I go into my head and remember the day of my sentencing. That fucking judge, I had never met the asshole in my life, gave me a smug smirk as he took the bench.
"Mr. Cullen, I have gone through the records of your previous arrests, and you would think you would have learned your lesson by now, so I think we will drive the point home. You are now hereby remanded as a habitual offender with multiple arrests and charges for drug possession. I hereby impose a sentence of no less than fifteen years, to be served in the Florida Federal Correction Institute at Coleman. You will be remanded immediately following these proceedings. "Is there anything you have to say, Mr. Cullen?" He asked as he smiled at me
I gasped for breath as I shook myself out of this daydream. I could almost still hear the sound of my mother's wails and cries.
My father hugged me as they handcuffed and shackled me. "No worries, keep your mouth shut, we'll handle this," he whispered in my ear.
I should have been afraid or angry. Hell, I should have been livid, but I wasn't. I was numb, and fucking dazed. I was just given fifteen fucking years. My life was over.
For the first two months I was considered to be in orientation. I never left my housing unit. I was housed with other drug offenders; we were supposed to do narcotics awareness classes. I refused. I stayed in my cell. I was either reading or staring off into space.
My mother regularly put money in my commissary account. I always had the best snacks and the best food. I had a pretty nice MP3 player that my sister-in-law, Rosalie, had given me to keep me with music. I ignored everyone around me and they avoided the fuck out of me. They knew who I was; they knew it was in their best interest not to fuck with me.
The guards, most of the talentless fucks, were in my father's pockets. So they didn't fuck with me, either. They left me be, but about a month after my avoid and hibernate routine I met with my "treatment team."
"Mr. Cullen, the reports from your housing unit say you're not having any behavior issues, but the officers say you're not interacting enough with your peers for them to be able to show you in a positive light. You're not working your program, you're isolating yourself, and you refuse to participate in any sort of training or rehabilitation. You refuse to leave your living area. If you would ever like to try for early release, you need to show that you're making some effort at rehabilitation," the social worker said.
I didn't say anything in the meeting, which was normal for me. Most of the time I refuse to speak outside of my circle. It was just a thing I had. I remember when I was a kid in school, they tried to convince my parents I was retarded. They did all kinds of tests and shit. They were all shocked when the IQ test proved I had an eidetic memory, and my IQ just bordered genius.
"Mr. Cullen, we're done messing around here, you're going to work a trade and you're going to work the program. You're going to abide by the rules or you're gonna find yourself in ad-seg for the next fifteen years; no rec time, no commissary, phones or visits. Don't make me have to do a cell extraction, you will have no options then," the warden said.
I eyed him warily, I knew he wasn't bluffing.
"Warden, sir, you're right. With all due respect, I have just been kind of in shock since my sentencing, but you have a point. I want to get out of here as soon as possible. I want to have a connection with people and I want to use my time to learn something and change," I lied. Lying, in my world, was something you had to be good at.
"Mr. Cullen I'm gonna set up a meeting for you with the rehab counselors, so we can make a suitable treatment plan for you. In the meantime, you really should try to make some new connections. We have a wonderful pen-pal program. You have spent most of your life consorting with the wrong people. Maybe it would benefit you to get a different point of view," the social worker said.
That was a few months ago, I had been writing back and forth with this girl, Bella. Her first letter grabbed me, and it made me want to do better things. She was innocent, a small town girl. She'd lost her mother to cancer. Her father was never around. She told me she had been in a rut, she was bored and wanted to do something different. I was her something different.
My sister, Rosalie, had put the ad up on the pen pal site for me. She'd put a few pictures of me on my profile. I'd gotten letters from every desperate housewife wannabe you could imagine. Some professing their love, wanting to take care of me, and that was the opposite of what I wanted.
I was an independent dude, I always have been, and honestly, I wasn't gonna change. When I knew I was gonna get lit up with time, my empire shifted to my brothers. My family had been in the game for a long time. My grandfather, my father and my brothers - we've all been major players. Sex, drugs, guns and murder; there wasn't a whole lot we weren't involved in. Well, fuck it, not involved, we owned it.
I never worried about anything, I was different than most people in the game. I had always been good in school; I got straight A's with no effort. I've always been into taking shit apart and putting it back together. I wanted to be a doctor, like my father. He was a chemist; the fucker knew how to turn the worst cocaine out there into some shit that would keep you high for days.
My brother, Jasper, was in the military. He was a military trained sniper-turned mafia hit man. My other brother, Emmett, the dude was a beast and a fucking charmer. He could get a girl to do whatever he wanted them to do, which meant he had a group of about twenty-five whores willing to fuck and suck whatever, whoever, and whenever he wanted them to.
We lived it up, with the best cars, biggest houses, and most awesome vacations. And we did it all together. My family was one fist that ruled our world with absolute perfection, absolute power. No one could ever stage an uprising against us.
We had made an example of that group of fuckers who thought they had the nuts to do it. Respect is one hell of a deterrent, but mix that with fear, and and you have a game-changer on your hands.
Today was the first time Bella and I would finally get to talk on the phone. We had been writing back and forth so much it was almost like I knew everything about her. In each letter, we would ask five questions about the other person, and give our answers to those same five questions. I knew her favorite music, bands, colors, tv shows, foods, what she like to do in her downtime, and where she worked. I even had my sister-in-law send her roses and some other stuff to her at her job. She deserves someone to take care of her. She has a good heart, and it sounds crazy for me to say, but she has a beautiful soul.
I've never been nervous about a girl in my life. I'd never chased a girl. They always chased me, and even though I felt bad because I knew I could never give Bella the love story she deserves, I wanted to chase her.
As I dialed the number from her letter, I sent a prayer up that, somehow, I would be able to give her the love story she wants. I want to be the something different she said she desperately needs.
My hands shook as I dialed the last number and waited for the prison operator to connect the call. Once she answered, her voice took the breath out of my chest. I hated that I only had ten minutes to talk to her.
"Hello? Edward?" she asked breathlessly.
"Yeah, is this, umm, Bella?" I asked quietly. I knew some of the other cons on my tier were listening in.
"Hey, umm, how are you? I mean-never mind-such a dumb question," she giggled, as she whispered.
"Come on, don't get like that, this is the same guy that you've been writing to," I said.
"No, this is so different, like your voice is-sexy-Oh god, I didn't," she wailed and I just laughed.
"Bella, its cool, babe, no worries. How are you? How was your day?" I asked, trying to make this somewhat normal.
"It was same as always, more bullshit from Jessica. Ben telling me how stupid and desperate I am. Lauren acting as if I don't exist. Same ole, same ole," she whispered.
"Well, I can tell you I think they're all wrong, and people love to hate. Ignore them, they don't know about this here," I said, trying to reassure her.
"I'm so glad I finally get to talk to you. Thank you for the flowers, they were so beautiful. But, Edward, you didn't have to do that," she whispered.
"But I wanted to, you said to do a better job, and that was me doing a better job. You make me want to be a better person, Bella," and I winced the second the words left my mouth. What the hell would she ever see in me?
"You think too much of me, Edward. Seriously, I'm nothing-"
"At the tone you have two minutes remaining-two minutes remaining-" the prison's recorded warning that the call would be ending soon interrupted her.
"Hey, I gotta go soon, but I hope this isn't the last time I get to talk to you. I really enjoyed getting to hear your voice, Bella," I said.
"Edward, I feel the same. Call me whenever you can, I am so glad we got to talk, you should get a letter-"
And it hung up. I fucking hated the fact that I couldn't give her the experience of "new love, all-night phone calls." I never got the chance to correct her, to tell her that she is something special. I would have to fix that. I needed to get ahold of Rosalie. Thank god tomorrow was visiting day. I have a plan.
A/N: So here we go again, this is honestly so much fun to write. I love the way they are flowing in my head, the amount of reviews and favorites for the first chapter seriously blew me away. I couldn't believe it. I want to thank you guys so much, it seriously had me smiling. I can't wait to see what you guys think. If you choose not to read or if something makes you "throw up in your mouth" I honestly don't need to know, just click the red X and find something else to read.
The constructive criticisms that tell me I need a Beta. Yeah I know, I don't work with Betas often just simply because I feel like the chapter is done and I want to get it out, not wait another week to get it back from someone. So I'll say it again if you don't like it. Click the red X and keep it moving, there will be no sweat off my proverbial nuts. Although I have read this chapter twice and think I fixed it all.
Thank you April, Yvonne, Kim, Tonya Fran and all my crew over on Facebook, you girls keep me sane.