The metal gates of the South Carolina Women’s Correctional Facility creaked open, releasing Naomi Harrove into freedom. The spring breeze hit her face, carrying smells she had nearly forgotten during seven years inside—fresh grass, car exhaust, someone’s barbecue from a nearby house.
She froze for a moment, squinting against the unusually bright sun, and clutched the worn canvas bag containing her personal belongings. All that remained of her former life fit inside a small plastic evidence envelope: a pair of tarnished earrings Alvin had given her once, a cracked compact mirror, a faded photograph of her and Jasmine laughing on Folly Beach.
The last summer before everything fell apart.
While the guard completed the final paperwork, Naomi signed the release forms mechanically, trying not to notice the indifference in the woman’s eyes. To the system, she would always be a criminal. The one who stole nearly a million dollars from the company she worked for. The system didn’t care that she was innocent.
“You’re free now, Harrove.” The guard handed her the envelope with her discharge papers. “Don’t come back.”
Naomi nodded silently and took her first steps outside the prison complex. Her legs felt like jelly. Her heart pounded too loudly. Along the chain-link fence, she spotted an inconspicuous gray sedan. Jasmine Overton sat behind the wheel—the only person who hadn’t turned away from her through all these years.
Jasmine jumped out, and the women hugged each other tightly. Naomi felt a lump rise in her throat, but she held back. She had decided long ago that she wouldn’t cry anymore.
“Let’s get out of here.” Jasmine glanced around nervously. “Better not to attract attention.”
Naomi climbed into the passenger seat. The car pulled away, taking her from the place where she had spent seven years, two months, and eleven days of her life. Jasmine turned on the radio, trying to fill the awkward silence, then clicked it off after a minute.
“You okay?” she asked, glancing at her friend.
“I’m alive.” Naomi stared out the window at the passing landscape—strip malls, pawn shops, a Waffle House. The memories flooded back suddenly, like a dam breaking.
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