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The tears just wouldn't stop falling, so I just stopped bothering to wipe them away. I was the only one on the bus, anyway. Who would have thought that I would be on this bus again, except I'd be leaving? I certainly hadn't imagined the possibility of freedom in a million years.

I absentmindedly watched the green trees blur by from the caged window while thinking of Schneizel.

My heart clenched painfully. In my mind's eye, I pictured his handsome face, his arched eyebrows, his aristocratic nose, and his breathtaking blue eyes that changed color when he was angry or riled.

Everything about him was downright arresting.

I didn't even have his phone number. How would I speak to him again? Would I even be able to? Would he come to the phone? Or would he just not bother again?

The thought of not hearing his voice ever again brought a wave of fresh tear to my eyes. I didn't even have a photograph to remember him by. How long would it take before his face faded out of my memory?

Half an hour later, the bus arrived at the island's dock, where a boat was waiting for me.

Six hours and forty-six minutes later, I was standing in front of the door of my new apartment in New York.

The gorgeous apartment located in one of New York's many high-rise buildings had three bedrooms, a spacious living room with modern cream furniture, a separate kitchen, and a large balcony overlooking a spectacular view of the city.

"This envelope contains the details of your bank account.

The money promised to you has already been deposited into it.

" The man who had greeted me the moment I stepped off the boat placed a large envelope on the table by the door just as he was leaving.

He'd been assigned by Mrs Williams to show me my new place, according to him.

"That's pretty much it. I wrote my phone number inside the envelope in case you need anything. "

I thanked him for his help and walked him to the door.

Once he was gone, I shut the door, locked it and I slowly turned around.

I took in my apartment once again. My apartment.

This beautiful, spacious place was mine.

I could scarcely wrap my mind around it, let alone believe it.

How long had it been since I stretched my legs in a room bigger than a card box?

How long since I breathed clean, fresh air and saw the clear sky?

I found myself heading to the balcony; I couldn't get enough of the sun, or what was left of it.

The sun was setting, and saw I walked into the most gorgeous sunset I had ever seen -or maybe it felt like that because I hadn't seen one in months.

I stood there on the balcony, leaning against the glass railing until all light faded and the moon glowed high in the sky.

Despite having so much to think about, like finding a job or figuring out what to do with all that money, all I could think about were a pair of electric blue eyes.

My heart felt heavier than ever with each passing hour away from him.

How long would it take before it burst?

Months passed by without incident in my suddenly uneventful life. The days of having to share a living space were long behind me.

Having had enough with being confined by walls, I spent the first few weeks out and about in the city, just walking around, breathing it all in.

I frequented Central Park where I would just sit on a certain favorite bench of mine and just stare at the trees for hours on end, with nothing but a bagel sandwich from a nearby stand to sustain me.

I had yet to find myself a job; I was mostly afraid of the social stigma I'd face when applying for any job.

It was certainly a stain on my once crime-free record to have been a resident of a notorious prison.

I highly doubted that any employer would be willing to overlook my previous imprisonment, at least not without probing and asking a few questions.

Questions that would resurface painful memories.

For now, I wasn't in any hurry to find a means to support myself financially.

Today, as I was making my way to my spot in the park with my bagel sandwich in hand, I noticed something which I thought was a little strange. I wasn't even sure how I came to notice it; it seemed that my days in prison had honed my senses somewhat.

I was being followed.

Perhaps I was being paranoid, but every time I turned around, I saw the same guy not too far behind me, always keeping his distance, but there nevertheless. Were we just two individuals heading in the same direction? Could be.

What did my days in prison teach me?

That I was probably being followed.

I discreetly peeked over my shoulder to try and get a good look at him. I was being followed by... a gentleman?

He wore a long, black coat that concealed what he wore underneath, with a black panama hat to match and polished black shoes.

He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, exposing no skin.

The hat combined with the collar of his coat nearly concealed all of his face, but what stood out was the tattoo on his cheek.

Unfortunately, from where I was, I wasn't able to make out what it was.

Correction; I was being followed by a tattooed gentleman.

"Nah, I'm probably being paranoid," I whispered to myself.

Well, there was only one way to find out without outright asking him.

Instead of taking my daily route to the park, I changed route and entered a different street. I looked over my shoulder and waited to see if he would follow.

He didn't.

I breathed a sigh of relief and started to say, "I knew it, I'm being para-"

A bolt of fear shot through me when I saw him walk into the street. The blood drained from my face. Was I really being followed? Was it a mugger?

I started entering random streets I hadn't walked down before in an attempt to throw my stalker off my trail.

All the while, my heart was lodged in my throat, and my breaths came out in cold puffs.

Eventually, I found myself where I'd wanted to go all along.

Even though it was midday, this section of the park was uncharacteristically deserted.

Hadn't movies taught me anything? Walking into an empty park meant certain death!

But there was no going back now. I steeled my resolve and continued power-walking to the area of the park I was most familiar with. Hopefully, there'd be more people there. I was surrounded by orange and yellow trees. The cold mid-October air assaulted and stung my face.

All I could think about was Schneizel, and how he would have made this problem 'go away' if he was here with me right now.

I all but cried out in joy when I saw a group of guys hanging around my bench. I collapsed onto the bench and glanced in the direction I had come from. I watched him walk past me and then head in the other direction until he was out of my sight. Only then did I breathe a sigh of relief.

I was visibly shaking; which was a bit embarrassing. I could feel the eyes of the group of guys on me; no doubt curious at my disheveled appearance.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Startled, I looked up at the guy suddenly standing before me. He was good-looking, with long blonde hair and green eyes. He had what was referred to as a surfer body.

"I-I'm fine, thank you." Anyone with a good pair of eyes on them could see that I was anything but. Luckily, surfer-guy let it go.

"I've never seen you around here before," he commented, giving me a once-over.

"Back at you. I come here nearly every day," I told him. I really appreciated the bit of small talk; it was helping me take my mind off the ordeal.

"For how long?"

Was it just me or was he being overly friendly toward me?

"It's been a few months now since I first started coming here." I glanced in the direction my stalker had gone down and was relieved when I didn't see him.

"I'm Jason. This is James, Michael and Johnny," he introduced, pointing to each of the guys. "Hey, so we're going for lunch at the Yard & Coop. Wanna come?"

"Yes," I answered without an ounce of hesitation.

Take me the hell away from here.

Together, we left the park and headed in the direction of the Yard & Coop, glad for the unexpected company. The whole while, I kept looking behind my shoulder for the signs of a suspicious gentleman.