I'M FREE! THREE AND A HALF MONTHS OF PURE FREEDOM! WOO! Now that I got that out of my system, I can get back to business.

Moving is a pain. You swear you don't have as much stuff as you do when you see it while packing. Ugh. Next year, I'm not bringing half this crap. Just unpacking alone leaves me too tired to type. But I push through, for my readers.

Read On!

Journal,

I'm thinking about changing my religion. I have nothing against Judaism or anything. I just don't think it's the one for me. I don't which one though. Or maybe I won't pick any. That's always an option. Maybe something traditionally eastern….

I just thought of something. Tommy Gun is at least two or three years older than me. I'm 16, he would be 18 or 19. How is he still here? He should've been taken to jail by now…I don't know if that's just me wanting him to be gone or I'm just bitching. He needs to go. I'm tired of him. He doesn't know the meaning of the word 'no.'

Fucking pervert.

I'm coming to a point where I'm sorting out individuals that I'm mad at and those I have no reason to be mad at. There are some people out there, at Third Street, at I have nothing against whatsoever.

~*~V~*~

"You would think they would've found you by now and took you away. But nope, that doesn't look like it's gonna happen, not that I want it to. I'm just saying that the guards do a really shitty job on watching the inmates. I snuck you in here three months ago and your still here. If they were doing their jobs, you would've been gone by now. Maybes it's all the crack I'm selling them that makes them so stupid. What do you think?" TJ's only answer was Duracell chewing on his t-shirt. Typical.

Since his first encounter with the animal, TJ had gone from loathing the rabbit and the affection everyone had for it, to naming her after a battery and calling her a friend. She couldn't respond to his questions like the guys could, but it was nice to have someone to talk to who would just listen without any predisposition to judge in any way. And he needed that. Just someone to talk to, how would just listen. He knew it wasn't healthy to keep his thoughts inside his head all the time, and he could only write in his journal so fast.

"You're only thinking about how soft my shirt is," TJ said as the small animal on his chest curled into a ball and started to sleep. "Yep."

"Hey Freckles! Can you get me that book on my bed?" JoJo shouted from outside the room.

"Yeah, hold on," TJ answered. Carefully, he picked Duracell off his chest and placed his in her box. Grapping the book on the opposite bed, he walked outside the room, only to turn around to make sure Duracell wasn't following him. She wasn't.

"Here," TJ said , handing JoJo his book.

"Thanks," Said JoJo. "Hey, you like how this looks?" He handed TJ a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it and saw words written in detailed calligraphy.

"It's okay. Why?"

"'Cause I'm gettin' that tattooed on my arm. It's my little brothers name. I wanna make sure it looks okay."

"How are you going to get a tattoo in this place?"

"I just am. You can watch if you want," JoJo offered. "But then you might want to get one."

"No thanks," TJ said handing the small sheet of paper back to JoJo. "Not into tattoos."

"Suit yourself," Said JoJo. "Watch out for your rabbit." TJ turned around and saw that Duracell was just hopping out of his room. He kneeled down to catch her when she came close enough.

"You're so clingy," TJ told the rabbit. "I'm not gonna abandon you. You don't have to follow me around all the time. Or do you want to see the others? That's probably it; you just miss them…..they did convince me to keep you." Sitting down next to JoJo and across from Bandit and Specs, TJ placed Duracell on the table and let her roam around as she pleased. While he let his pet explore, TJ watched as JoJo talked to another inmate who approached with a bottle filled with some sort of black liquid and a small box of needles. Just how was JoJo going to get a tattoo? And wouldn't he get an infection?

'And get sent back to the hospital again?' TJ thought to himself. 'Whatever. I'm gonna go make a phone call.'

"Make sure she doesn't fall off the table," He said as he started to walk away. "She's kind of clumsy when she's this excited."

~*~TJ's POV~*~

I don't know my brother's name, but I know a few things about him. Just a few.

I know he's smart. I've been calling him at the same day and time for the last three weeks and he's picked up all those times. Our parents didn't catch him all three of those times. Clever kid. I wonder if he's like me with all my cleverness and mischief. I had a conversation with him one time about how he got in trouble for drawing on the walls. I told him that he shouldn't do that and if he keeps doing it he's going to keep getting in trouble. He tried to explain that he was expressing his soul and that it should be encouraged, especially at his age and that it's healthy for a growing brain. Where is he getting this stuff?

He still hasn't told me his name. He refuses to. It's okay though. I just like talking to him. The last time we talked for ten minutes.

He's shy. I can tell just by his voice. I don't know how shy a normal two year old usually is, but I can tell by his voice. The little guy is soft spoken. And I'm left choked up each time we talk.

Dialing the numbers on the payphone, I wait for him to pick up. What are we going to talk about this time?

"Hello?" He said answering the phone. "Mr. Stranger?"

"Yes, it's me, Mr. Stranger," I said, smiling. I didn't give him a name but he wasted no time giving me one. "How are you doing?"

"M'sad," He said. "I fell a-and I broke my wist."

"You broke you're wrist?" I repeated. "How did that happen?"

"I wanted to get somethin' off a bookshelf but I couldn't reach it so I climbed to get it and I slipped and I fell," He explained. "It hurt really really bad, I was crying."

"Oh, I'm sorry you broke your wrist. You're okay now, right?"

"Yeah I'm o-kay. I gotta cast," He said. "My sisser wrote he name on it and drew a picture for me. It's pretty."

"Your sister? You have a sister?" I asked. Of course I know he has a sister. Becky. He knows her at least. I'm pretending that I don't know because I don't want it to slip out that I'm his brother. I want to know if he knows that he has a brother.

"Yea, I have a sisser. She's nice," He said. "Sometimes." Heh, sometimes. That's what I used to say about Becky. I may have a deep hatred (or it could be more of a disappointment) for my parents for essentially abandoning me, but I have nothing against Becky. She had nothing to do with me being here. She was at college at the time I was sentenced. I trashed the whole house, but I left her room alone because I have no anger towards her. Even if she doesn't visit me, I'm still not gonna be mad at her.

"Do you have a brother?" I asked him.

"….mm….momma and daddy say I have one but he had to go 'way for a while," He said. "That's why he's not here." So he does know about me. Mom and Dad did something right. About time.

"That's good. Every little boy should have a big brother to protect them from all the bad things in the world."

"Then why isn't he here doing that for me, Mr. Stranger?"

Shit. I walked straight into that one. What do I say…?

"I don't know. Maybe he can't. I'm sure he wants to be there protecting you, more than anything in the world, but maybe he can't for some reason. Maybe he did something…..something really stupid….and he can't be there right now," I said. "What do you need to be protected from?"

"….mmmm…bully…"

"A bully?"

"Hmm-mmm. At daycare. He keeps pulling my hair and makin' me fall and getting' me in trouble 'cause I like to play with the girls at daycare and not the other boys," He said. "I try to be nice to him but he keeps doing it. So I pushed him in the mud and he stopped but I'm still in trouble for doing it."

"Well I don't think you should get in trouble for defending yourself…."

"Me neither. I gotta go Mr. Stranger; momma and daddy are gonna find me on the phone and I'm not 'pposed to be."

"Oh, okay. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"'Kay. Bye-bye." He hung up the phone, and soon after I did to. Sweet kid. I've got to meet him one day. And do my job in protecting him. I'm not going to let my anger towards my parents get in the way of meeting him. He's innocent in all this. I have a lot to learn. I gotta learn what he's like, what's his favorite color is, his favorite foods, what he's afraid of, his favorite sport (if he likes sports), all that stuff.

Now I actually want to get out on parole. I have a job to do.

Fighting back the tears that were threatening to pour out of my eyes, I walked back to the others. By now JoJo was getting the tattoo he was talking about. It looks like it hurts. The guy who's doing it is doing by sticking the tip a needle back and forth in his skin, stopping after a few times to dip the tip of the needle into ink.

Okay, he's just asking to get infected.

As soon as I sit down, Duracell hopped over and laid down in front of me. Petting her, I couldn't help but watch as the tattoo JoJo was getting slowly grow from something I couldn't make out to letters forming a name.

"Joshua? Is that your brother's name?" I asked him.

"Mmm-hmm. That's him," JoJo said paying half attention. "You talk to your brother?"

"Yeah, we talked. He knows about me," I said. "He said our parents say he has a brother that 'had to go away for a while.' I'm surprised they would mention my existence. Either they told him or my older sister Becky did. I'm more inclined to believe Becky told him and he asked our parents about me."

"At least he knows," He said. "It's somethin'. Somethin's better than nothin'."

"I know. I just didn't expect him to know. I didn't tell him I'm his brother. He might tell our parents on accident. I was just curious," I said. "Doesn't that needle hurt?"

"Hell yeah it hurts," JoJo said, flinching. "But I want it more than it hurts to get it." Before I could say anything else, I felt Duracell nibbling on my fingers. It doesn't hurt; it's like a light pinch. She only does that to get my attention when she's out of her box and hungry. I told the others that I'll be right back after I put her in her box. While I carried her she continued to nibble at my finger. Hmm….

I wonder if my brother likes animals….

I sat her down in her box and she went straight to her food. Right before I turned to leave I heard the door slam shut, and I know I didn't swing the door to close it. And that only means….

"What I wanna know is, why is my favorite scrub avoidin' me?" This guy doesn't know when to stop.

"Don't you know when you're not wanted?" I snapped at him. "Get the hell out of here!" Rather than leaving, Tommy Gun came closer. His friends weren't there (thank God) so I knew that at the very least Duracell wasn't going to get hurt, but I still stood in front of the box to protect her. "How are you still here? Your 19 years old!"

"I know some people, pulled a few strings...don't worry 'bout that," He said, getting as close to me as he could. "I just wanna spend some time with my favorite scrub." Next thing I knew, he had his lips pressed against mine.

I hate that he's a good kisser. Fuck…..

With one quick shove, I pushed him off of me. He didn't fall to the floor like I wanted, but there was five feet of space in between the two of us. I watched as he looked at me with one of his creepy-ass smiles on his face. Sends chills up my spine. He didn't say anything or even walk towards me. He turned, and left the room (but not before winking at me).

Eww.

Now that he's gone, I don't feel safe leaving Duracell here by herself. It's okay though; I have homework to do anyways…..

I grabbed my math book from under my bed and opened it to the chapter my class was on. I must have some sort of talent for math because I was pushed up again to a harder class. My last math class was Algebra II, and I was pushed up into that from Algebra I. Now I'm in…..what's on the cover of his book…?

…..Trig. That's it. I'm in Trigonometry now. Doesn't even seem like math, in my humble opinion. Even the textbook is smaller than the last few classes. I read of the assignment, and since it's due tomorrow, I'm not going to have time to finish in time to go back out there and hang out with the guys. I shouldn't have wasted my entire weekend being high….

Oh well. I was. Nothing I can do about it now. I have to deal with it and get this homework done.

I have a question! It's an opinionated question so there's no right or wrong answer, but it might change the course of the story. Do you all think that TJ should get out on parole? I'm unsure if I want to have him out or not.