Breakfast in Bedlam/Epilogue

Epilogue
Now.

The door slammed with a hollow bang, Cami Sookanado walking back to the cellblock, escorted by two guards. She had just spoken with the parole board and was told that her bail was paid, her sentence commuted, and she was free to go. The news came as a shock to her as she had gotten complacent with her surroundings and structured routine, having settled in for what she expected to be a very long stay. However, she did miss her son terribly and wanted nothing more than to see him again.

Cami sighed, the walls suddenly becoming foreign to her, accepting that this was the last time she would walk those halls. It has been a week since the riot, a riot that Cami had thankfully missed due to being sequestered in a separate exercise yard reserved for the female inmates. She did hear it, however, and see it through the fences; the screams and shouts of the inmates as they fought against the emergency response team as they tried to quell the chaos. She did not see the containment as she was ushered back to her cell for lockdown. Her cell seemed smaller that night and the following couple days as she spent her time in it alone, her cellmate, Zuckuss, having been injured during the riot. The CO didn’t give Cami any details, saying she would just need to save her questions for when Zuckuss was back from the infirmary. So, Cami kept the cell tidy and maintained a vigil on Zuckuss’s meager belongings to prevent theft by the other inmates. Several inmates who perpetrated the riot were now in Hi-Max, including Pepan Manja, who, Cami overheard, was the one who allegedly stabbed Zuckuss out in the exercise yard. The Kubaz’s actions removed him from Gen Pop entirely, Cami noticing a different convict inhabiting Pepan’s cell in E-7. Pepan now had a 23-hour lockdown to look forward to, his movements restricted and only himself as his company. Whatever freedoms he had left were now gone, he had given them up the minute he put the weapon in his hands. The only sunlight he would ever see for a long time would be the diffused rays trying to penetrate the layers of grime on a thick, clouded transparisteel strip that passed for a window. Hi-Max, Cami heard, could drive an inmate insane.

Yard privileges for her unit were now revoked for an undetermined length of time and the inmates were understandably upset. Most of them claimed to have had no part in the riot, though Cami could see the bruises faces and bandages decorating many of the prisoners like badges and smeared tattoos. Only the female inmates could not be held accountable, but they were punished alongside the rest of the unit. No one played favorites in Bedlam.

On her way to meet with the parole board, Cami had overheard snatches of a heated discussion between the head therapist Dr. Gawynn Karastee and Bedlam’s administrator. From what she could extrapolate, Dr. Karastee was furious and blaming the riot on the administrator, threatening resignation unless something was changed. Cami did not hear the rest of the discussion and she never asked Karastee about it when the psychiatrist passed her in the hallway later. The thought of Karastee’s resignation upset Cami as she was an advocate for the mentally-ill inmates. She was the only one who seemed concerned with actually rehabilitating her clients rather than locking them away to rot. Losing her would mean losing a chance for redemption. It was Karastee’s actions that had secured Cami’s release. The rest of the psychiatric staff dispensed medication, doing the bare minimum required to collect a paycheck at the end of the week. Dr. Karastee, however, was so much more than just another suit.

Cami sighed. She knew any resignation would not affect her as she was being released. However, the other inmates would surely suffer. Locked away from civilized society and drugged until they were docile, the mentally ill were viewed with as much disdain, if not more, as the common criminal. The ones who were lucky enough to escape the penal system were still segregated in group homes, pills shoved down their throats, and forced to wear their stigma on their sleeves so that the public would know who to avoid. It was an arcane mindset that Cami hoped to one day see changed. Perhaps then, other families would not be torn apart simply because the district deems the parents as not of sound mind to care for their children, regardless of how minor the illness really is.

Cami turned the corner, paused as the doors were unlocked, and entered the E-7 mental observation unit for the last time to retrieve her belongings and bid farewell to her cellmate. It was lockdown and the inmates were in their cells. A few of them whistled as she walked by and at least one asked that Cami snag him a pack of cigarras once she was on the outside. Word of release certainly traveled fast as Cami was still dressed in her prison uniform and did not say anything about having met with the parole board. Perhaps it was the new way that she carried herself; her shoulders back, head held high, and walking with a stride that exuded confidence and the message that she was no longer a caged animal. Whatever it was, it earned her a level of respect from a large number of inmates as she climbed the stairs to her former tier, prisoners wishing her well, flashing congratulatory hand signals, and telling her to remember her sentence and never look back. The door to the cell was unlocked, Zuckuss standing and bowing as Cami entered. “Congratulations, Miss Sookanado.” Cami smiled at him, gathering her things and handing them to the guard. “Thanks. Hopefully soon you’ll get to meet with the PO…” Zuckuss shook his head. “No, don’t concern yourself over me. There are other, more important things to worry about, like taking care of yourself and your son.” “You’re right,” Cami nodded. She stooped and put her arms around Zuckuss’s shoulders, hugging him. “Hey, thanks for everything. You take care of yourself.” Zuckuss returned the embrace. “And you as well. Good luck out there, Miss Sookanado. May the mists show you the way.”

Cami released him, smiled, and left the cell with one last wave. Her eyes in front of her, she focused on the winding corridors ahead, stopping only once more to retrieve her civilian clothing from storage and change into it, tossing the rumpled orange jumpsuit into the laundry chute, never to see it again. Doors opened for her as she followed the CO out of the prison, through the admissions wind, and finally out into the lobby. Her parole officer greeted her, confirming if Cami had a place to stay and gave her a voucher for transit fare and a meal. Cami bowed and thanked the PO before she strode confidently out through the doors of the Bedacus-Lambrecht Correctional Facility, her gaze fixed on her life ahead of her. Outside, a public air taxi awaited her, ready to whisk her away, back to her son. The crisp winter breeze that hit her face whipped the snow flurries into a frenzy.

The falling snow never looked more beautiful.