I wake up at 6 AM and shower and put on acceptable clothes, I don't do my make up and I wrap my hair in a bun that sits right on top of my head. Pookie knocks at my door around 7 AM. He told me we would want to leave out early considering it takes 3 hours to get to Rikers Island. I hated the sound of the correctional facility and I hated that it had a man that did nothing but try to protect me. A man so sweet and completely wasn't involved in any gang activity or delinquent behavior. I hated that Trevon was there when he didn't belong there. I spend a few minutes telling Trisha she doesn't need to come with me but she doesn't listen and so at minutes to 8 AM, we head out.

Pookie seems to know the way by heart. I wondered how many times he had been there to visit.

We take the A train by Bristol to Rockaway Av then transfer to the 4 train and get off at Bleecker St. From there we take the F train from Broadway- Lafayette to Queensbridge and then we walk for a few minutes to find the Limited Q100 bus to Rikers Island. We get there at 11:30 and I can feel that I am starving but I am too nervous to eat.

We spent most of the ride there in silence, mostly because Trish and Pookie were asleep and I was focusing on not throwing up from anxiety. There isn't much special about the view of the place, maybe because of the reason I am here.

Maybe on a more joyous occasion, the island is beautiful. Maybe when a loved one is being released after 25 years or something. Maybe circumstance was what made places beautiful.

Trisha holds my hands as we walk into the facility and go through all the security checks. My hands shake as we sit down by a window like segment, separated by glass. The jail is dull, gray and depressing. It looks run down and melancholy.

This was it. Soon this is where his face would be. I feel myself hyperventilating. I feel the cold sweat on my forehead. Suddenly I am hot and my clothes are sticky.

I take deep breaths in fail attempts to calm myself.

The guard enters my view and he is holding a dark skinned male by the arm.

"You have visitors." I heard the guard say.

"Who, Pookie?" He questions. My calm exterior is broken by his voice.

"Nah." I hear the guard respond.

Trevon is now in my view and before the guard can lead him the entire way, to the seat behind the glass window, he freezes in his tracks.

I look at him, my lips trembling, my mouth frozen open, I am not breathing.

He looks at me, his face gaunt from the lack of food or his non-willingness to eat it. Eyes no longer bright and youthful. No love in them for me.

His jaw clenches.

The guard pushes him forward.

"Sit down Wallace, I have other inmates to bring here."

He remains frozen, despite the guards pushing.

"I don't have any visitors. There's no one here I want to see." He says tearing his eyes away from mine. Something in me breaks in half. It feels like my spine.

And then it feels like my head.

And then it feels like my teeth and shoulders and neck. The pain begins spreading throughout my body. I open my mouth to speak but I can only hear myself sobbing. I want to come out of my body, out of the pain and scream the words in my head.

"Man, don't do that." Pookie's voice sounds far far away. So does Trish. Nothing sounds close to me now, I feel alone and disconnected into a million halves that have just cricked and cracked as they broke inside of me.

The room is blurry.

"Look at her, Trev. She already can't handle any of this." Trish's voice echos and bounces off the walls. I feel myself sinking to the floor but Trish holds me up and sits me on the bench away from the glass.

The guard lets go and Trevon takes the seat behind the glass wall. He picks up the phone.

"Put her on." He says harshly.

"Man, chill. Forreal." Pookie warns. He waits a few moments and Trisha takes me to the seat where I can stare at him only inches away from me. So close but I can't touch him. I don't know if I would if I could.

"Leave." He says, but his eyes aren't on mine, they are on Trisha's and Pookie's. They do as told and disappear into the next room. It is quiet and aside from the guard behind him, we are alone.

I stare at him wide eyed, my lips and hands shivering as if they are cold. I put the phone to my ear and stare at the dark circles under his eyes.

"Fuck you." He spits when our eyes finally meet.

I let out a loud sob, a sound so loud and cruel I feel my chest ache after it has left me.

"I'm sorry." I speak and I know he knows what I have said but he stares at me, his face emotionless.

I say it again and again and again.

"You're fucking sick, Channel." He speaks in a growl.

He wanted Trish and Pookie to leave so that he could ruin me, just like I ruined him. He wanted me ruined. He wanted my defenders gone. He wanted me stripped and lonely. He wanted revenge.

"Why now, huh? What's this visit for?"

I am still crying and now I am unable to look at him.

"Visiting from college, thought you might stop by and say hi for fun? On your free time. Let me check on the nigga that saved my life, clear my guilty conscience."

I keep the phone at my ears and tug at my shirt, hoping to scratch my chest hard enough that my heart is ripped out.

"Stop crying and listen to me. Honestly, you need to hear this shit." He laughs.

"You deserve to live with all the guilt in the world. I don't ever want to see you again. As long as I live."

He hangs up the phone and stands to his feet.

I scream into the empty line.

"Wait, wait. Please. Please, don't leave." I scream.

"I'm sorry. You're right, I'm so sorry." I scream over and over.

He picks up the phone again.

"I love you." I say quickly. My tear stained face willing him to listen, to believe me.

"I love you." I say again.

His eyes break their strong gaze and for a moment I can see that it has phased him.

"I still love you, it's been haunting me and you know why I'm like this. I didn't want to be like her. And I didn't want you to be him." I coughed and wiped my eyes and nose only for more liquid to replace what I just moved away.

He is silent watching me and when I look up again, there is no rage in his eyes at all.

"I know." He mumbles. There is still an edge in his voice and it tugs at the broken pieces.

"But you don't get a clear conscience after cutting me off when I need you most. You don't get to do that then pop up in here like ain't shit happen. You don't get that pleasure."

I nod in agreement. "I know that. That's fine. That's fine, I understand but please don't hate me.."

I break down again and I see tears rolling down his face when I look back up at him through the glass window.

"I really needed you, Chan." He struggles to get the words out. The tears roll down consistently now. He uses a hand to wipe his face quickly.

"I needed you and you dipped on me. I don't know how to forgive you for that." He shakes his head a few times before he settles it on the table.

His shoulders shake.

"Baby, I'm so sorry. I love you so much. I'm here now, please let me be here now."

He is silent aside from a few sniffles.

"Let me be here from now on. Please. I just want to be here." I say again and again.

"Times up, Wallace." The guard says.

"Noo! Please, just a couple minutes!" I beg.

But they take him away.

And then Trish and Pookie take me home.