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Over the next few weeks, Richard, Kevin, Bruce, and I become fast friends. To me, we seem like a pack; Richard, of course, loves that analogy. Bruce is the wise sage, Richard is the spy, Kevin is the enforcer, and I’m the planner. And boy, do I have a plan up my sleeve.

As a reward for my good... no, great... behavior, I’ve been given more freedom around the hospital and with that freedom, come some nice perks.

The computer lab is one of them. A couple hours are hardly enough time when the dial-up takes a solid five minutes to connect to the Internet and the computers themselves belong in the Ice Age.

Yet, something is always better than nothing in my book.

Every day after lunch, Terry comes to my cell and escorts me to the recreation wing of the facility. There’s a game room, TV room, even a gym and an indoor basketball court. However, every day I choose to spend my free time in the computer lab.

Luckily, the guards here aren’t tech savvy.

They don’t let us have email, but they haven’t removed access to the pre-loaded chat programs on AOL.

I know I’m on borrowed time until they figure out we can chat outside the prison.

Until then, I’m going to chat up as many people as I can for my own sanity.

I troll the chat rooms I used to visit in my spare time at work before that fateful night when Annie died.

Before too long, I find someone to chat with.

Cassandra Dalton is the heiress to her father’s St. Louis transportation empire.

She’s rich, bored and not easily impressed by much…

but my story completely intrigues her. I’m getting the sense she’s falling in love with me, the American Vampire. I need to use this to my advantage.

As the days go by, we talk more and more, going further in depth about vampirism, Annie’s death as it’s been reported in the newspapers, and the events of my trial.

Cassandra even finds the day-to-day stuff that happens at the mental hospital interesting.

It feels nice to be able to be honest with someone about who or what I am, and not have them try to change me or convince me that I’m somehow demented.

About a week after we first connect online, Cassandra asks me a jolting question.

“Do you ever have dreams of being on the outside, Fang?” she asks, calling me by my screen name. I think ‘Fang’ sounds much better than ‘Bitey.’

“I haven’t thought about it much,” I type, lying through my teeth. “I just think the best thing right now would be to serve my time and let them rehabilitate me.”

“No! You can’t let that happen, no matter what. Don’t let them cheat you out of your identity, Fang. Trust me, that’s not something you should give up lightly,” she responds.

“What do you suggest, then?” I ask, leading her to the answer.

There’s a long pause, and she seems to be thinking hard about this…

“Maybe I should just pluck you right out of the exercise yard with my father’s helicopter,” she types.

I’m shocked, but at the same time, I feel triumphant.

The final piece of the puzzle might just have peeked out from under the pile.

“I’ve been trying to learn how to fly that thing for about a month now.

It would be so exciting to put it to use. ”

I don’t take the obvious opportunity to instigate any wayward thoughts in Cassandra’s mind; I simply don’t stop her train of thought.

I let her imagination take her where she wants to go and imagine anything she wants to about me and the many possibilities of what could happen between us if I were to be on the other side of the fence at Fulton.

Don comes and knocks on the computer room door to signal my free time is coming to an end. I’m due in the kitchen where I work as a steward, arranging the food trays and plastic cutlery for dinnertime in the cafeteria.

“I have to go. It’s time for cafeteria duty,” I type quickly.

I shut the AOL chat window and power down the computer before Cassandra can send her response.

I feel the conversation should be left exactly where it is.

If she’s being serious, she’ll have to think about what she’s willing to do to help me escape from here, and that decision will have to be made on her own.

I really hope she’s being serious.