Dirty Shift

~ Emily ~

I already stood up more than ten d*mn times, just to flop my *ss right back down on that cold bench.

Every set of boots clacking down the hall had my heart doing flips like it was tryna escape my chest.

Every time that rusty door creaked open, I swore this was it—my f*ck*ng moment.

Ten whole years.

Ten motherfucking years caged up like an animal, and today they’re finally cutting me loose.

Feels like I just walked through these doors yesterday, scared as f*ck.

But nah…somehow a whole d*mn decade got snatched from me.

I’ve been rotting in this hellhole the entire time I was supposed to be living my twenties.

Who the f*ck would’ve thought that I, Emily Jayden would waste her whole twenties locked in a cage?

I was just nineteen, still green, when they dragged me in here.

Now I’m twenty-nine, body harder, soul colder.

Ten straight years for some sh*t I never even did.

They love to preach that truth always wins.

Justice always comes through in the end.

I used to eat that fairy-tale crap too.

Not anymore.

Money talks loud as hell.

And when money opens its mouth, truth gets real quiet real fast.

That’s power, baby.

Real power.

Evan John.

The golden man the whole world kisses his *ss over.

The same fake-*ss m*th*rf*ck*r who wrecked my life with one smooth lie.

Just his name hits my chest like a fist.

Makes everything tighten up, ready to snap.

I swear on everything, Evan, I’m coming for your *ss.

I’ll make you choke on every single second I rotted in this hellhole.

Every birthday I spent staring at concrete.

Every dream that got crushed and died right here in this f*ck*ng cell.

I’m building power from the dirt up.

I’m rising so high your fake-*ss empire won’t be able to look away.

No matter what it costs.

Even if I gotta scrub piss-stained toilets or walk rich bitches’ dogs in pouring rain… I don’t give a f*ck.

Whatever it takes.

Revenge ain’t some cute little word no more.

It’s my whole d*mn religion now.

My thoughts snapped like a rubber band when the door finally banged open.

Officer Damian stepped in—uniform pressed sharp, but those eyes still soft, same kindness he always had for me.

“Emily Jayden,” he said, voice steady and warm like always. “You’re free to go.”

I looked up slowly, breath stuck in my throat.

“Finally,” I whispered. That word tasted like straight freedom on my dry tongue.

I stood up, brushed fake dust off the orange jumpsuit that had fused to my skin. Followed him down the long, dead hallway to the release room.

I stripped off the orange that had become part of me, folded it neat like burying a nightmare.

Slipped into my old faded jeans and that plain t-shirt from ten years back.

It felt like stepping into a ghost version of myself.

They hung loose now—body leaner, harder from prison slop and endless push-ups in the yard.

My sh*t came in a little box.

Old photo of Mom back when she still knew how to smile.

Cheap necklace they somehow didn’t snatch.

Beat-up notebook stuffed with my angry plans and poems I scratched out just to keep from losing my d*mn mind.

I signed the papers, my hand shook a little. Pen scratched rough across the page like it was carving my way out.

After that, they patted me down one last time, making sure I wasn’t sneaking out any contraband.

Of course I wasn’t—ain’t sh*t left to steal from me anyway.

Then they slapped that release paper into my palm, official as hell.

Freedom.

Black ink on white paper.

That's simple.

Officer Damian walked me to those massive iron gates, the same ones that had clanged shut on my life a decade ago like a coffin lid.

They creaked open slowy.

Bright-*ss sunlight poured in like it was trying to blind me.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second.

Too d*mn bright after ten years of fluorescent buzz and shadows.

“I hope you make something good out there, Emily,” he said, voice real and warm, no fake cop b*llsh*t.

“Don’t come back for trouble, alright? Unless you just wanna swing by and say what’s up.”

He hit me with that same kind smile…the one that had pulled me through nights when I wanted to break.

Back when I first rolled in, I was so scared, alone, fresh meat the other inmates circled like sharks smelling blood.

Damian stepped right up, badge flashing, voice low but firm.

“Stay strong,” he’d whispered then, like a secret promise.

Now I waved back, a small, real smile cracking my lips for the first time in forever.

“Thanks, Officer. For everything.”

The gates slammed shut behind me with one last heavy-*ss thud.

No more clanging cell doors ringing in my ears.

No more buzzing fluorescent lights that never gave you a break.

But freedom?

It didn’t feel light and airy like they say in the movies.

It felt heavy, like carrying ten years of bricks on my back.

Mom turned her back on me a decade ago.

Swallowed every word Evan fed her without even asking what really went down.

“You’re no daughter of mine,” she spat the last time she showed up, eyes ice-cold, no love left.

Nobody was waiting out here.

No family.

No crib to crash at.

Nothing.

Then I spotted Emma and Sophia.

Leaning against some old, beat-to-sh*t car a little ways off.

They had been released a few days before me.

Emma did twelve years straight for running drugs, she was twenty when they locked her up.

Sophia pulled seventeen for offing her sister, also at twenty when it happened.

She never spoke about it.

Ask her anything about that night? She’d shut down tight, wall up, end of story.

When I first rolled into that hellhole, they made my life pure misery.

Emma sliced me up with her razor-sharp mouth.

Sophia didn’t even need words…just one cold stare and you’d freeze, praying she looked away.

They tested me hard. Pushed every button. Wanted to see if I’d crack and cry.

But prison don’t play.

It changes you or it breaks you.

We started splitting meals.

Whispering real sh*t late at night when the block was dead quiet.

Having each other’s backs when bigger, meaner bitches came sniffing.

Somehow the same hoes who tried to bury me became the ones who guarded my back.

Crazy how getting through the worst sh*t flips the script.

Turns straight enemies into ride-or-die.

Survival don’t give a f*ck about old rules but it writes new ones in blood.

As I walked up, Emma’s whole face lit up.

Curly hair wild and free now and no more tight prison braid pulling it back.

She yanked me into a hard, fierce hug, arms thick and strong from years of scrubbing floors and lifting heavy sh*t inside.

“Finally, b*tch,” Emma murmured, voice all choked up and thick. “We been out here freezing our d*mn asses off waiting on your fine *ss, babe. Missed you like crazy.”

Sophia stepped up next, wrapped me in a hug so tight it hurt good, holding on longer like she wasn’t letting go ever again.

Her dark eyes still carried that storm sh*t I never quite figured out.

“Welcome back to the real world,” she said low, voice rumbling deep like thunder in her chest.

We piled into the car—Sophia behind the wheel, Emma in the passenger seat, and me in the back like a kid on a field trip.

Emma turned the radio way up, blasting an old pop song from the years we lost.

She yelled over the music, “Let’s go be bitc