Almost two weeks had passed since I was sent to Meyer Detention Center. So far my stay had been filled with the occasional high point, promptly followed by extreme lows. Life in the prison system wasn't for the faint of heart.

On my third day, I was approached by a scowling, pale-faced kid with shorn hair. He had several tattoos; a swastika being the one most prominently displayed. I knew what he was trying to sell before he even opened his mouth. He represented the group called Purity. He wanted me to be "true to my race" and join his gang of racist lowlifes. Apparently if I agreed to be part of them, I would be offered protection and would serve my sentence in comfort. (Yeah, right.) If I refused, they would consider me an enemy and would make my life a living hell.

I've always had little patience for bigots. I remember hearing my dear old dad make negative comments about the minorities who ranked higher than him. He was insulted whenever he had to stand at attention and salute a superior he considered to be subhuman. What an asshole. The older I get, the more I have come to realize that my father had absolutely no redeeming qualities. I would even be willing to forfeit my having been born if it meant my mother could have lived a different life and married a decent man. She was a ray of sunshine who deserved so much better. Sighing and clenching my fists, I realized that it was a waste of time for me to wish for things that could never be. I hated how this place seemed to bring forth more memories of my childhood and the father who had taken away everything good in my life.

I told the kid "No thanks" and started turned to walk away. I felt the breath being knocked out of me as he slammed my body against the cement wall.

He held me by my throat, pinning my back tightly against the wall, and leaned in to hiss in my ear.

"Because I'm such a nice guy, I'll give you a chance to change your mind."

I could taste his foul breath and see his right eyelid twitch with anger. I wasn't afraid of him. I had faced far worse.

"Fuck you," I replied.

I grunted as he punched me in the stomach and then kneed me in the groin, resulting in an explosion of pain. My hands shot to my sore crotch as I inevitably slid down the wall onto the floor, my legs shaking too much to support me. He then spit on my face and sauntered away.

It took all the self control I possessed to not jump up and snap his neck like a twig. I could feel the rage flow through my body, but I fought to keep it in check. I kept picturing Bella smiling and blushing at me in biology class until I could feel the anger start to fade. Slowly I picked myself off the floor and made my way back to my cell.

On the fourth day I woke up and gingerly made my way to the shower room, feeling totally embarrassed to have my bruised and swollen testicles on display. Being naked in a room with fifty other guys was bad enough, but the condition of my genitals made it even worse on this particular day. I was undoubtedly the center of attention; mortified by the crude catcalls and jeers hurled my way. I showered as quickly as I could and was dressed within seconds.

I made it to the cafeteria, shuffling slowly toward the same sad, empty table I sat at every day. I picked at my congealed, scrambled eggs, thinking about how prison food sucked worse than school food, if that were possible. I heard the chair next to me scrape the floor as someone sat down. I looked over to see who had joined me, trying to appear casually disinterested.

My guest was a very large black kid who looked to be about nineteen or twenty. He introduced himself as Chronic (what kind of name is that?) Word on the street, he told me, was that I was making friends with the Aryan guys. I denied his allegation, vehemently explaining that I had no interest in being affiliated with any gang—I just wanted to do my time here and get out. I by no means desired to make enemies with him and his friends. He narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously before eventually nodding. As he got up to leave, he made sure to point out that they would punish me severely if I was lying.

I wondered if being approached by rival gangs was part of the new prisoner orientation or something. I kept to myself all day, anxiously waiting for the Asian or Native American kids to join suit by trying to force me into their posse. Luckily I flew under the radar for the rest of the day.

The next few days, I did get the occasional angry glare from a random kid, but nothing I hadn't experienced daily in my old group home. Instead of worrying about being coerced to join a gang, I threw myself into my schoolwork. The penal educational system was similar to high school, except that the classes were on a much lower level. Most of the kids here were grade levels behind. In fact there were quite a few inmates who couldn't even read. That must have been very embarrassing for them.

In the midst of all the ethnic diversity, when it came to academics I quickly discovered that I was in the minority here. I had always taken Advanced Placement classes and had a near perfect GPA back at Forks High. I survived a few days of mind-numbing classes and quickly decided to go ahead and sit for the GED exam as soon as possible. When I was allowed to work on practice tests in the library, I immediately realized how comfortable I felt with the material.

My opportunity to sit for the test came yesterday, and I have no doubt that I passed with flying colors. I found a copy of the Edmonds Community College course catalog on my bed when I returned to my cell; no doubt that was a gift from Officer Cullen. He's pretty cool for a correctional officer.

Last night I was eating in my normal solitude, skimming through the catalogue to identify various interesting college courses, when an inmate took the seat across from me at my table. I sighed, figuring it was another wannabe badass trying to threaten me. I didn't know it yet, but I was about to make my first friend here at Meyer Detention Center.

"Hey, you're from Forks High, right?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Yeah, I thought you looked familiar. I went there too. I think we had World History together last year?"

This had been the first friendly interaction from a fellow inmate that I had experienced. I studied him, trying to see if I remembered this kid with wavy blonde hair and big green eyes. I wasn't sure, but I thought his wide-eyed look did seem somewhat familiar.

"I'm Jasper." His smile faded as he uneasily cut into tonight's mystery meat.

"Nice to meet you, Jasper. I'm Edward."

Extremely funny and likable, Jasper drew me to him immediately. It turns out that I did remember him from Mrs. Carter's history class—he was the one always cracking jokes, trying to lighten the mood in the boring class. He had moved to Forks when he was ten from somewhere in Texas, and he was proud of his lingering southern drawl. "You can take the cowboy out of Texas, but not the Texas out of a cowboy", he liked to say. He had a twin sister named Rosalie, who I remembered well; she was lusted after by every guy (and some girls) at Forks high. She always seemed "stuck up" to me, but I would never tell Jasper that.

Jasper had been imprisoned at Meyer for two months already, after getting arrested for absconding with Police Chief Swan's police cruiser on a Friday night joyride back in the spring. I vaguely remember the buzz at school when that had happened; everyone had thought Jasper was uber-cool for that stunt.

He assured me that he was just "borrowing" the car to play a practical joke on a friend, and he planned to return the car with nobody being the wiser. However, he didn't realize that Chief Swan was an avid fisherman who would be up on a Saturday at four a.m. to go fishing, and he was instantly busted trying to return the car to its owner. "I pulled into the Chief's driveway at like 4:15 and he was standing on his porch with all his fishing gear, scratching his head, wondering where the heck his car had disappeared to. I didn't see him until it was too late. He was on me with a fishing knife in his hand before I could even take one step out of the car." Jasper shook his head regretfully. "I'm such an idiot."

We were both laughing hysterically at Jasper's failed attempt at being a criminal. It was my first laugh at Meyer, and it was a good one. He said his lawyer could have gotten him off with just community service, but his parents insisted he have a real punishment so that he would think twice before doing something illegal in the future. He only had a six month sentence, meaning that he would be leaving here in a few months.

I hoped he wouldn't ask what I did to be sent here, but once he shared the details of his notorious arrest, he was naturally interested in mine.

"So Edward, what are you in for?"

I was tempted to tell him I did something non-violent, like shoplifting, but I knew I was a terrible liar.

"Um . . . well . . . I'm here for manslaughter." I hoped he wouldn't ask for details.

"Manslaughter? No way! You killed somebody?"

My heart was pounding and my mouth felt dry. "Three people, actually."

"Holy shit, you killed three people? Why?"

"They were hurting someone I cared about and I had to stop them. I didn't actually mean to kill them, but I did."

"Damn Edward, you are such a badass. Remind me to never piss you off. How long are you in for?"

"I'm here till my twenty-first birthday."

Jasper winced. "Ouch, that's a long freaking time, man."

"You're telling me. But it's better than real jail."

He agreed and we continued talking until dinner was over. It was good to finally have a friend here. He introduced me to some other guys who he said were "cool". I knew I would have a better chance of making it though my sentence unscathed if I had an ally. Maybe now I wouldn't be such an easy target.

Today started like any other and I was on my way to the library when Officer Cullen stopped me in the hall.

"Masen, your lawyer is here for a pow-wow. Come with me."

I was surprised that Michael, my court appointed attorney, was here to see me; I had figured I would never see him again. He mentioned something about an appeal, but I really couldn't see any right-minded judge handing down a more lenient sentence.

Officer Cullen led me to the private rooms reserved for attorney/client meetings. Michael was already there, waiting with a box and some paperwork.

The box contained my personal belongings from the foster home where I had been staying when I was arrested. It wasn't much, just a few books, CDs, and some pictures of my mom and me from when I was younger. I had moved around so much there was no need for material possessions, and the other kids would usually steal things of value anyway. It was kind of depressing to think that my entire life fit in a cardboard storage box.

I thanked Michael for bringing my things and figured our visit was over, but I was shocked when I heard him say that Bella Swan had applied to become a registered visitor.

My jaw dropped and I was unable to speak for a moment. He passed over a manila envelope which contained her visitor application. There was a place for my lawyer and myself to sign, approving her. I looked up with wonder at my lawyer.

"Is this for real? She can seriously come to see me? She wanted this?" I was amazed.

"Yeah, Edward. She called the office herself and then filled everything out. Are you ok with seeing her? After everything that happened?"

Of course I wanted to see her. I had dreamt about being able to smell her, talk to her; even possibly touch her for months.

"Michael, give me your pen."

He handed it over and I signed my name on the document. He signed it as well and said that she was now an official visitor. I smiled my first real smile in months. Bella wanted to see me.

I thanked Michael, picked up my box, and walked into the hallway in a daze. Officer Cullen was waiting to escort me back to the cell block.

I heard footsteps rush behind us.

"Edward! Wait! I almost forgot!"

I turned around and saw Michael walking towards me with an envelope in his hand.

"Here, she wrote you a letter."

I snatched the letter and rushed to my cell as quickly as I could. Observing my quick pace, Officer Cullen chuckled, asking if the letter was from my girlfriend.

I smiled at him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

I sat Indian-style on my bed and inspected my prize. It was a small white envelope with my name on the front, sealed with a glittery silver sticker on the back. The sticker had a unicorn on it. "Unicorns?" I muttered disdainfully.

I carefully opened the letter, trying my best not to rip the envelope. Once I had the flap open, I brought it up to my nose and sniffed. I could smell a faint scent of freesia and strawberries. It was one of the most wonderful and intoxicating scents I had ever experienced. It was all Bella.

I pulled out the sheet of stationery, noticing that the top of the page read A Note From Bella. I smiled. That was cute. I figured her mom probably had bought the stationery for her. Her handwriting was fairly messy for a girl—no big looping letters or small hearts used to dot the i's. Bella was more than just a silly schoolgirl. She was perfection.

I began to read.

Dear Edward,

I hope this letter finds you well. I came by to see you last week, but apparently I needed to be approved by you first. I hope you will allow me the opportunity to visit you and thank you properly. But if seeing me brings back too many unhappy memories, I understand. I can't remember much from that night in Port Angeles, but I'm so thankful to you, my guardian angel. I have no doubt that I would be dead if it weren't for you. I hate that you are in that horrible place. I wish there was some way I could rescue you, because you deserve so much better. You are in my thoughts often and I hope you are staying safe. I'll try to visit as soon as I can. I've missed my biology partner. Thanks again for everything you've done and please let me know if there is anything I can bring you. See you soon.

Love,

Bella

She included her address at the bottom of the page, and I couldn't wait to write her back.

I read the letter over at least twenty more times, only stopping when "Lights Out" prevented me from seeing her perfect words. Once I closed my eyes, I fell into the first peaceful sleep since being arrested. The scent of freesia and the vision of her closing words "Love, Bella" gave me hope that maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay.

A/N: The Unicorn reference was in honor of the greatest fanfic ever, Wide Awake. Check it out if you haven't.

Thanks for taking the time to read. Reviews are much appreciated.