Something weird happened to me when I was typing this chapter.

I forgot that I was writing a Recess fanfiction. Seriously, I forgot. It was weird. This semi-dark, depressing roller-coaster of a story is for an innocent show like Recess. It's a strange feeling, but I kept writing. Just a thought.

Go Forth and Read On!

"So I applied for parole last week, but I know I'm not going to be approved anyways. Since there's no chance I'll get approved, it would hurt to do it. But now I'm hoping that I get approved because I called home one day after two years of not calling and my little brother picks up. I know he's my little brother because when I broke out along with every other inmate here, I made my way back home and looked in my window and saw that my room was redecorated and there was a baby in a crib. The first time I called he picked up and I was afraid to say anything, but I called back again and we talked for a little bit. Now we do that every week and our parents don't know about it. If they did, they wouldn't let him near the phone. I learned so much about him and now I know I have a job to be there for him and protect him. Even if he's safe as he could be, I have to be there for when he has nightmares, a monster under his bed or in the closet, or when he wants something that's too high for him to reach. I'm a big brother now I have to get out of here and be a big brother. And I'll make sure that I do a great job too. My little brother will love me."

"Wow. I honestly didn't think that having a younger sibling would make you change this much, Detweiler."

"Me neither, but there it is."

The day after he had another conversation with his brother, which also fell of his seventeenth birthday, TJ needed to have a serious conversation with someone other than his friends or pet rabbit. The only two adults that he trusted at this point in his lift were Mr. Simmons and his former principal. Because Mr. Simmons was assigned to him by the courts to keep track of his mental stability, he trusted the man a little less than Prickly. The guy was nice and decent enough, but the fact that the court assigned him, and the courts screwed him over, brought him down on the list of people to trust. So he called his former principal to talk. The topic of their conversation was the parole that TJ had applied for.

"Hey, since I was sort of a big deal at Third Street for, you know, supposedly lighting the school on fire," TJ said, relishing in the memories that what he said brought up. "Has me applying for parole been in the news? I would think so."

"No, it hasn't been in the news," Prickly said. "But if you get out, it will be, I'm sure."

"Oh yeah. I could just see the look on every ones faces," said TJ. "They'd run for the hills. I wonder if could request them to keep this a secret."

"I think you can. How old are you now, seventeen? You're still a minor, and I think they're obligated to keep your status somewhat of a secret."

"I hope so. Oh, did I tell you? I have a pet rabbit now." TJ told him.

"A pet rabbit? How did you sneak a pet rabbit into Duval?" asked the former principal.

"I didn't sneak it in. it followed me in here from outside," said TJ. "All my friends wanted me to keep it and now it's rubbed off on me. I named her Duracell."

"….you always were a creative one, Detweiler."

"Thank you, sir. I promise, if I get out, I'll pay you a visit for once," TJ said. A loud visit from one of the guards caught his attention. "I gotta go. They're about to make us go work outside. I'll talk to you later." Quickly hanging up the phone, TJ got in line with the rest of the inmates. From where he was standing, he could see JoJo, Bandit, and Specs in the line ahead of him. He already knew why they all were in line.

The line moved forward, and made it outside. The sun was shining, except for the few intervals when the clouds blocked it. As the line continued to move, the guards split the line every ten inmates. TJ wasn't grouped with JoJo and Bandit, but he managed to be grouped with Specs and avoid Tommy Gun. His group stopped in front of a patch of ground covered in weeds and wilted flowers, with gardening tools and fresh unplanted flowers next. Landscaping.

~*~TJ's POV~*~

This must be their way of saving money. Having the inmates do the landscaping and not hiring someone else to do it. We've been doing this for the last few weeks. I don't mind. It's kind of relaxing, and I love the extra time we get outside, working or not. It's not too hot out here either. We're out here to make Duval look pretty.

Because God forbid it looks as horrible on the outside as it is on the inside.

I put on the gloves that they gave us (they only give us these now because Specs and five others broke out in hives from touching poison ivy), I started pulling out the weeds from the ground. It's not so much that they're hard to pull, it's that there's so many to pull at all. I have help from the other inmates grouped with me, plus the conversation I was expecting to have with Specs to pass the time.

While I pulled the weeds, I kept I eye out for a certain little furry creature. I wouldn't put I past Duracell to sneak out here. Then again, she doesn't follow me when I tell her not to, and I told her not to before I left.

"I can't stand physical labor," Specs said, tossing the weeds aside. "This should be illegal."

"Then you should go take it up with one of the guards," I said. "You might get pistol whipped, but if it's that important to you…."

"It's not worth getting pistol whipped over," Said Specs. "I lost a tooth the last time I complained. Could you blame me though? These living conditions are atrocious."

"I think they make it like that on purpose," I said, pulling out the last weed. Finally. Now we can do the easy part; planting. "Did you see that guy kill himself yesterday by snatching one of the guards gun and shooting himself, like, four times? Why didn't it work the first time?"

"The first time he shot himself it was in the abdomen," Said Specs. "Most of your organs are in your abdomen, but there's a small chance he could've missed them all. The second time he aimed for his brain, which is smart—or dumb, but he placed the barrel on his cheek bone. Would've been fine if his grip wasn't shaky. The bullet when through his nose and out the other side. Then he place it under his chin, but his grip must've been shaky and went through his mouth."

"That guy can't aim for shit then," I said as I dug in the dirt. "Christ."

"The last time he pointed to his head and that killed him. Should've done that the first time. Or bought some cyanide from me to avoid making a scene."

I know some people would call us crazy for believing this, but I think that sometimes, at least in here, suicide is the best option. Now here me out.

It can be a virtual hell in here.

Fights, abusive guards, inedible food, no one's visiting you, claustrophobia, stir craziness, rape, drugs, and seeing other inmates kill themselves. Then there's the white rooms. Being stuck in the room with buzzing lights 24 hours a day, lack of any type of food, not being able to go the bathroom when needed, kids screaming from lack of human contact….madness. It's nothing but madness.

Oh God, Johnny. I miss him so much…he didn't deserve to die.

Or maybe that was for the best.

He was tortured for the years he was in there. There was no way for him to ever adjust to normal life again. I'm not a psychologist, but I'm sure he would have PTSD for the rest of his life if he was still alive.

But it was hell. He and many of the other inmates who tried to kill themselves and succeeded were in their own personal hell and they're only guilty of looking for an escape. They weren't getting out of here anytime soon. They had sentences extending into actual prison. And they knew they can't handle it.

So is it so wrong that they took the only way out that they knew? Yes, their deaths are tragic, but it's not their fault. It's either suicide, or hell for the rest of their lives without any chance of recovering. What would you do?

Don't get me wrong, I think that overall, suicide is a terrible thing. But here, it's the lesser of two evils.

I know from experience. When I tried to kill myself, I felt nothing but relief. No more of this daily bullshit. I knew that I was going to die (although I didn't). I know it was bad for someone to kill themselves, but I needed to get out of here by any means necessary. No one was rooting for me to get the help that I needed, and the only voice that I had, and still have, was a demon beast telling me what a fuck-up I am. Luckily it didn't work and I was taken to the hospital where I got the support that I needed. Not from my parents, but from my former principal. And I'm eternally thankful for that. That's all the inmates in here need, but most don't get that.

That's why I believe suicide can be the best option sometimes.

Patting the dirt around a flower I just planted, I took a deep breath. I only had one more to plant and I'll be done. Right on time too; rain clouds are coming in.

"It's so boring inside," I said, digging a small hole in the dirt. "What are we gonna do when we get inside?"

"Play Monopoly?" Specs said with a smile. "I want to play after losing to JoJo the last time. I just had to land on Park Palace. No one lands on those places! And he had three houses on them! It was a statistical impossibility! The fuck?"

"It's just a game, dude. Relax," I told him. "That sounds like a good idea though. Playing Monopoly, I mean. I want the top hat." Falling raindrops and a whistle from the guards signaled the time for the inmates to go back inside. When we came back into the dorms, I told the others about playing the board game and Specs left to get it from his room. Before he came back, I noticed something on the door to my and JoJo's room. The same thing was on a few other doors too, including Bandit's and Spec's. I walked over and pulled it off. They're envelopes and there's two. Hmm. One's labeled with my last name, 'Detweiler', and the other is what I'm presuming is JoJo's last name, 'Johansson'. Sitting down at the table, I gave JoJo his and started opening mine.

Let's see….there's a piece of paper inside…

It's the application for probation form I filled out almost a month ago…

With a big red 'APPROVED' stamped at the top.

~*~V~*~
"They don't really want to let us out. They just need extra space, so they're getting rid of some of us for newer inmates. That's my theory anyways," Said Specs after he moved his piece across the board. "What do you all think?"

"I don't care what it is," I said, rolling the dice. 12! Ha! I'm buying the railroad! "I'm getting out. Did you guys get out?" Bandit and Specs nodded. "What about you JoJo?" He was busy look through the papers he received. He didn't get form back, he got something different.

"My lawyer sent me this letter," JoJo said. "He said my case is being looked at again because they found new evidence that was withheld. I didn't get approved, just this. But if I'm lucky, I'll get out. Do you know when you're leaving?"

"It says next Friday for me," I said. "I need to find someone to pick me up."

"Next Saturday for us," Bandit answered. "I hope you get off, JoJo. It'll suck if you're in here by yourself."

"I'll manage…I still got the girls…" I felt a tug that the bottom of my uniform. I didn't look as reached down and scooped Duracell off the floor and placed her on the table in front of me.

"Guess what, Duracell? We're getting out of here," I said, petting her. "I'm gonna get you a huge cage, not just a box to live in. We should do something to celebrate this. Let's get drunk."

"On what, Freckles? Air?" JoJo snapped. "There's no alcohol in here."

"Look, at least I made a suggestion. What your idea, 'cause you know, you're so damn smart?"

"Let's get high."

"No."

"Why the fuck not?" I only answered him by petting Duracell. Someone has to be sober and watch her. "Well then shit, we're not celebrating then."

"Just try to have fun for the next week until we leave," I said. "That's all we can do. And we better stay in touch! I didn't become friends with you assholes just to never talk to you all again. Fuck that. I mean phone calls, letters, all that shit. We're staying in contact. And visiting JoJo if he doesn't get out, though we do hope you get out JoJo. We're not gonna be like everyone else who say's they'll visit but never does."

Nope. I'm not gonna let that happen. I know what it's like to be on the receiving end of that. I'm not going to inflict it on someone else. Even if we all get out, I'm not going to forget about these people.

That's not gonna happen. Not on my watch.

Parole! And change of environment! Hoorays! I can say that the next chapter will be the second half of this story! About time, it was taking FOREVER. And now it's finally here!

Reviews are Appreciated!