The 'N' Word, Book 1 by Tiana Laveen

secrets away, and proceeded with life, desperately trying to follow the straight and narrow path of what was expected of her. Nevertheless, she began with baby steps. She got a new job, relocated, then purchased her first home. The sad, rundown structure seemed to whisper love letters in her ear, begging her to move herself inside and promising to not do her any harm. So, she’d grabbed her belongings, and purchased a few new ones and set up shop. One room with burgundy and baby blue Damask print wallpaper housed wall-to-wall books, many of them filled with the writings of the Greats. From classic to contemporary poetry, they lined the walls, protected, cherished, and loved.
    …But now the love was cloaked, the silence profound. She scraped the few measly remaining bites of her food on her fork, shoved it inside her mouth, and swallowed her wayward thoughts. Glancing across the way, she took notice of the file from Dr. Owens. On a sigh, she reached across the table and took hold to the thing, scanning it just as Trudy had. She read the profiles, curious about these people.
    She moved the tip of her fingernail under the words, the names, the washed over details of the convictions, and the nuisances of a person locked away from society, punished for an act he’d committed against another. She’d already made peace with a few things, such as the thought that society deemed these individuals a problem; yet, it sure as hell didn’t mean that they truly were. She’d been raised in the Church, and no matter how she rejected some of the doctrine, bits and pieces were engrained within her, and became a part of her story and convictions. She’d been taught repeatedly about forgiveness, to see the light amongst those drowning in darkness. This was a lesson she took to heart, just as much as the words that danced in her head and came out as pure poetry. And people were poetry, too…
    The individuals behind those bars consisted of old, broken bones never to be bound together again, long forgotten, some even hated simply by a telling of their life story. No one knew the souls of men except the Creator. And no matter how horrible the crime, she walked into Holman with one intention and one intention only: to teach those suffering with illiteracy and disabilities that prevented them from reaching their full academic potential. She read the names of the men on the paper and paused when she came to one name in particular…
    Aaron Pike.
    A Taste of Honey sang, ‘Boogie Oogie Oogie’ on the oldies station that evening. As she swayed on her chair and snapped her fingers, she sighed and slid the file a bit closer, eyeing it carefully.
    Aaron Pike… Aaron Pike… That name sounds familiar.
    She shrugged.
    He’s not a student of mine. I definitely wouldn’t want that… too close for comfort.
    She smirked and tapped her upper lip, a plan forming in her mind, webbing thoughts and ideas of a sneaky kind…
    My numbers are low and I want to help. Wouldn’t be any harm if I became a part of the program, too. Besides, whoever it is would never know I was an employee… I’ll just make a fake name. Yeah, easy enough…
    Aaron Pike… Aaron Pike…
    She slid her cellphone out of her pocket, ready to look him up, search him out, then paused…
    No, don’t do that, Mia. If you’re going to do this, then do it fair and square. Don’t become influenced by whatever you might find out about the man. Says here he is in trouble for assault and battery… That’s all I need to know.
    She stood and took her empty plate into the kitchen, placing it just so inside the white sink stained with a twisting, winding line of rust right under the faucet. She turned on the water, rinsed the thing off, then poured herself a glass of cold milk. A few moments later, she removed the cake from the oven to give it a moment to cool and sat back down at her table, this time armed with a pen and blank piece of taupe colored paper:
Dear Mr. Pike,
I hope this letter