Emily Daniels looked at her reflection in the mirror of her apartment bathroom, ready to begin her normal Friday night ritual.  Smiling, she squirted some shaving cream into her hand and began to smear it on the stubble that had grown on her scalp during the last few days. Her smile widened, as she took her razor and began scraping away the tiny hairs, leaving paths of smooth, bare scalp behind.

Emily was a little different than most university sophomores.  Instead of getting a job for the summer, like most freshmen, Emily had volunteered to spend her summer in Earlswood Prison's volunteer prisoner program.  As a psychology major who wanted to pursue a career in corrections, she had felt that experiencing what real prisoners go through would be invaluable.

So, from June 20 until September 2, Emily was voluntarily held at Earlswood.  Her long brown hair had been cut off and her head shaved bald.  She spent the summer in a maximum security cell wearing an orange jumpsuit and shackles on her ankles. Some days she spent as part of a chain gang work crew with some of the other inmates.

Despite her expectations, Emily found that she enjoyed her life in prison.  She liked the structure. She got on well with the other prisoners and guards.  She didn't mind the shackles or working on the chain gang. She loved being bald and didn't miss her hair at all.

Upon her release, she returned to the university for her sophomore year.  Her bald head shocked her friends, but they quickly got used to it as it became clear that she was going to continue to be bald for quite some time.  They asked her about her experiences and, while they didn't understand her new perspectives sometimes, they were respectful and supportive.

Emily, to her surprise though, found that she actually missed her life in Earlswood. As such, she had developed a weekend routine.  Every Friday afternoon her roommate left to go partying and never returned any sooner than Sunday evening, usually sick and hungover, so Emily had the apartment to herself. As soon as she was alone, she would head to the bathroom and shave her head.  She already shaved it periodically throughout the week, but she considered this one special: her "prison haircut."

Once she was satisfied that her head was completely smooth, she would dress for the occasion.  Using the money she had earned as a prisoner, she bought an authentic orange prison jumpsuit.  It wasn't identical to her Earlswood one,  but it was close.  She had also bought a pair of leg shackles.  She quickly pulled on the jumpsuit and locked the shackles around her ankles.

Next, Emily took the keys to the shackles and put them in a time-delay safe, her other purchase with her prison money.  She set the time for Sunday at noon and closed the safe.  Just like at Earlswood, she thought, these shackles aren't coming off.

She smiled and, utterly relaxed, hobbled out the couch in the living room and reclined back on it. Emily pulled out her cell phone and checked her WhatsApp.  She had, shortly after her release, created a group for some of the inmates she had met that had been released.  She smiled as she read their messages.  Most of them seemed happy and were doing well, rebuilding their lives.  She frowned a little, realizing that, while happy for them, she had experienced a certain kind of happiness while she was in prison.

Her phone beeped and brought her out of her thoughts. It was a message from Ms. Smith, the warden of Earlswood. She had kept in touch with her and a few of the other guards after her release.  Ms. Smith was hoping that Emily would come and work for her after graduation and was keeping up on her progress.  She and Emily had got to the point where they would joke about Emily's time in prison.  As usual, Ms. Smith ended this message with, "So, are you ready for me to lock you up again?"

It had become their little joke.  It always had made Emily smile, but this time, after a few months back, it didn't.

Emily looked around her apartment.  She wasn't enjoying herself.  Campus life was loud and distracting.  Her roommates were always focused on frivolous nonsense.  It was so much easier to focus on what really mattered when she was in prison, with no other distractions.

Emily thought for a moment. Then, slowly, she typed, "Actually, Ms. Smith, I think I am."

Two weeks later, Emily found herself in Ms. Smith's office, explaining her plan.

"So, let me get this straight," Ms. Smith began slowly, "you want to volunteer to be a prisoner again for as long as it takes to get your degree?"

"Essentially, yes," replied Emily.  She proceeded to describe the chaotic nature of university life and how much she preferred the structured life of the prison.

"I really think that I would benefit from the structured environment Ms. Smith. And I already checked and made sure that Bluth would let me continue my studies online. I know they already have a similar program for actual inmates.  It would be essentially the same, except that I'd just be a prisoner, not a criminal."

"That's probably true," Ms. Smith conceded, "but you're only a sophomore. You're looking at at least two and a half years in here."

"Actually, I want to get my Masters and Doctorate too," Emily said.

"Oh, Emily," Ms. Smith gasped, "you're looking at nearly a decade then."

"I know, Ms. Smith," Emily said with a smile.

"So how would we do this then?" Ms. Smith asked.

"I actually took the liberty of having a lawyer draw up a contract," said Emily, producing an envelope from her backpack. "I've already signed, I just need you to."

Ms. Smith took it and read over it.

"This certainly is airtight," she marveled.  "You realize that, if I sign this, the only way you're leaving this prison is upon completion of all three of your degrees from Bluth University, right?"

"That's right," Emily said.  "Can't have me backing out on a whim just because I got cold feet, right?"

"I guess not," Ms. Smith said.  "Very well, if this is what you truly want..."

"It is Ms. Smith. Please let me come back."

Ms. Smith picked up the pen and signed. "Done," she said. "Get your affairs in order Ms. Daniels.  As soon as the new semester starts on January 1st, you're my guest again."

Emily beamed.

Emily's family was not happy when she told them.  She'd waited until the end of Christmas break, so they could enjoy the last one they would be able to have together for many years.

Her father yelled. Her mother cried.  But in the end, they knew that she had signed a legally binding contract and that their daughter was going to prison.

On January 1, they drove her there. When they arrived they all got out of the car.  There were hugs and tears.  Finally, with one last kiss on the top of her bald head, Emily's dad said, "You'd better get going inmate."

He was trying to understand.  Emily loved him for that.

With one look back, Emily walked to the front gate of Earlswood and pressed the intercom button.

"Yes?" Ms. Frampton, the deputy warden's voice came through the speaker.

"Emily Daniels, reporting for prison," Emily replied.

"Very well."

A buzzer went off and the gate swung open.  With one last wave to her parents, Emily stepped inside.

The gate slammed shut behind her.  A guard came up and placed a pair of handcuffs on Emily's wrists.  They were connected by a long chain to a pair of leg irons which he quickly locked on her ankles.

The guard grabbed her arm and marched her through a nearby set of doors.  Emily found herself in a 6 foot holding cell with mesh bars.

"Step inside," the guard ordered. Emily did so. She heard the door close and lock behind her.

"Prisoner, you will stay here until we are ready for your intake," the guard said and left.

Emily smiled.  She sat down on the little bench in the holding cell that she remembered so well.

After what felt like an eternity, Ms. Frampton entered the room.  She looked at Emily.

"Just like old times then?" she asked.

"Yes miss," Emily replied.

Then, with a curt, but approving nod, Ms. Frampton began the intake procedure that Emily remembered so well from her first stint in prison.

Her watch, wallet, and mobile phone were collected and placed in a plastic bag.  Ms. Frampton waved a security wand over her and then patted her down.

Finally satisfied that Emily had no contraband, she announced, "First search is passed."

Ms. Frampton then guided Emily to the barber chair where she sat down.  Her wrists and ankles were secured to the chair with plastic cuffs, just like the last time. 

"Guess we won't be needing the clippers this time, will we," Ms. Frampton asked, probably rhetorically.

"No miss," Emily replied anyway.

"You like being bald, do you inmate?" Ms. Frampton asked.

"Yes miss," Emily replied.  "Right now at least, I can't imagine ever growing my hair again miss."

"Well, you're going to be in here long enough it certainly won't be an immediate concern."

Ms. Frampton squirted shaving cream on Emily's head, spread it around and went to work.  Within minutes, Emily, who had only had the faintest stubble to begin with was completely smooth, just like her first entrance to prison.

Next she removed her clothes and placed them in the bag with the other items she had placed in there previously.  She marched to the shower and cleaned herself up quickly.

As she finished showering Ms. Frampton appeared and gave her a towel, which she used to dry herself quickly.  Once dry she was given the familiar white undergarments and slip-on trainers, as well as her orange jumpsuit.  She put all of them on quickly.

"Time for mugshots," Ms. Frampton announced when Emily was finished dressing.  Ms. Frampton attached a pair of leg irons to Emily's ankles.  Then she put a pair of handcuffs on her wrists and attached the cuffs to a brown transport belt that she looped around Emily.  Emily was marched over to the mugshot station and handed a small sign to hold.  It read:

Emily R. Daniels

State Inmate #599237

Earlswood Penitentiary

Sentence: Indefinite imprisonment

Emily frowned slightly at the term "indefinite imprisonment."  That could mean just about any sentence, part of her thought.  Another part of her smiled internally at the thought.

After the mugshot, the computer spit out a plastic wristband, which was then fastened to Emily's wrist, completing the intake procedure.

"Looks like everything is in order, inmate.  Let's get you to your cell," Ms. Frampton announced.

Emily followed Ms. Frampton as they walked through the parts of the prison that Emily remembered so well, on their way to the maximum security cells.  Emily smiled contently at the sights.  Soon they arrived at the maximum security wing and found Ms. Smith waiting outside a cell. A twinge of familiarity struck Emily as she looked at the cell.

"Is this my old cell?" she asked.

"Yes Emily, it is," Ms. Smith said.  "It became available a few weeks ago and we decided to hold it for you.  Look inside."

Emily looked past the steel security door and the set of bars. Everything looked the same as last time, except...

"Is that a desk, miss?" Emily asked.

"Yes Emily," Ms. Smith replied.  "Since you're not technically a dangerous prisoner, we decided to bend the rules and allow you a desk and writing materials to help in your studies.  Most of the staff chipped in.  We don't understand your desire to be in prison, but we all like you and like having you here.  We thought it would be a nice gesture."

Emily was truly touched by this.  "Thank you miss, it means a lot to me. I'd hug you if I weren't, you know, chained up."

"You're welcome, but we really can't have inmates hugging the warden, now can we?  Step inside inmate."

Emily stepped inside and the security door closed behind them.  She walked past the set of bars and stood facing away from Ms. Smith.  Ms. Smith removed the handcuffs and transport belt but left the leg irons.

"Welcome to your new home inmate," said Ms. Smith as she stepped back and closed the set of bars, locking Emily in her cell.

"Thank you miss, it's good to be back."

Ms. Smith nodded.  The security door opened and Ms. Smith stepped out.  The security door closed, leaving Emily alone in her cell.

She sat down at her new desk, listening to the chain of her leg iron jingle against the concrete floor.  She leaned back in her chair, resting the back of her shaved head in her hands, relishing  the smoothness of it. 

She looked around at her cell. 

She was content.

She was happy.

She was home.

YEARS LATER:

Emily, or Inmate 599237, as she now thought of herself, had thrived in prison.  She had no regrets about her decision.

As a special privilege from Ms. Smith, Emily would have her head shaved every morning and afterwards be sent to spend the time until lunch on some kind of work detail. The chain gang was her favorite.  She loved spending time outside and the physical labor helped keep her in good shape. She even enjoyed having her leg irons chained to the other inmates.  Emily knew that most of the other inmates found being in a prison uniform and chains humiliating, but she found it strangely exciting. She got a small thrill on those rare occasions that someone she had known before prison would pass them and recognize her as they worked out on the open road. She loved the shocked look in their eyes as recognition dawned as to the identity of the chained, bald convict.

After the day's work detail, Emily would be sent back to her cell, where she would spend the afternoon on her studies.  The distraction free environment had worked wonders.  She had finished her bachelor's and master's degrees in record time and started  work on her doctorate. After the course work was done, she had started on her dissertation, which dealt with the psychological effects of prison on women inmates.  Being in prison had also worked to her advantage here as well, having access to a ready-made study population.

On occasion, her parents would come to visit.  Their first visit with Emily had shocked them.  Being a maximum-security prisoner, they were only allowed to see her in a small booth and from behind a glass partition.  Emily had been brought in, leg irons and handcuffs attached to the security chain around her waste.  After she sat down the leg iron chain had been locked to a metal ring secured to the floor and her handcuffs had been locked to another one that was attached to the wooden shelf in front of the glass partition.  The first couple of visits had been difficult and awkward, especially when they had seen their daughter in the orange jumpsuit and chains that signified her status as a prisoner, but slowly they had accepted that Emily was truly happy.  They didn't understand, but they accepted and supported, which meant the world to Emily. 

Today, after years of work, Emily leaned back in her chair and put her feet up on her desk.  She smiled.  She had just sent in the final draft of her dissertation to the doctoral committee for review.  If accepted, she would be Dr. Emily Daniels.  As per the terms of her contract, she would also, finally be free to leave the prison.  Emily frowned at this.  After all these years, she wasn't sure how she would react to freedom.  It seemed a strange foreign concept compared to the contentment that she had come to associate with her prison life.  Emily put the thought from her head.  It might take months for the committee to receive and finish reviewing her work, so she could relax without worry for a little longer anyway.

Ms. Smith was completing paperwork in her office, the TV in the background quietly playing the day's news, which was not particularly noteworthy she thought.

She signed a few forms, not reading them closely since she already knew what most of them said, having signed hundreds of similar ones over the years.  She noticed Emily Daniels' name on one of them and smiled.  She was so proud of Emily and what she had accomplished in prison.  The thought of Emily leaving soon disappointed her, but she was sure she would be able to get Dr. Emily as she now thought of her, on staff without too much trouble.  Lord knows we need a good psychologist here, she thought.

"And now our special report on the Bluth University scandal," the talking head on the TV droned.

Ms. Smith looked up.  Bluth was Emily's college.  Finally something interesting, Ms. Smith thought.

The screen changed to a female reporter standing in front of what looked like an academic building, although Ms. Smith felt certain it was a green screen.

"Bluth University was officially closed and dissolved as a business entity today, after filing for bankruptcy and exposure of criminal mismanagement by the university administration," the reporter said.

Ms. Smith's heart dropped.  She listened to the rest of the report.  When it was over she pressed the intercom button.

"Yes, Ms. Smith," came Ms. Frampton's voice.

"I want the prison legal rep in my office in an hour please," Ms. Smith said.

"Yes, Ms. Smith."

After a quick web search on her computer, Ms. Smith picked up the phone and dialed.

"Yes, this is Ms. Smith, warden of Earlswood Prison. I'd like to speak to the university president please.....Fine, then I'd like to speak to the next person in line....Listen, you answered the phone so clearly some people are still there! Put whoever is in charge of your joke of a school on the phone NOW!"

The next morning, Emily found herself sitting in Ms. Smith's office, as Ms. Smith explained the situation to her, the prison lawyer lurking in the background.

"So that's the short version anyway Emily," Ms. Smith finished.

Emily stared, taking in this new information.  It was overwhelming.

"So..." Emily began slowly, "what does this mean for me?"

The lawyer moved forward.  Emily didn't like him.  He made her uneasy.

"That's a good question," he said.  "Legally speaking, you had a very strict contract drawn up.  It specifically states that you can't be released without your degrees from Bluth University, which is now an impossibility. There is no escape clause for the university going out of business."

"Well, I didn't really think that would be an issue when I had the contract made," Emily replied angrily.

"Nobody did Emily," Ms. Smith replied.  "This came as a complete shock to everyone, except the administration, as far as I can tell."

They talked a little more but it was clear that Emily's situation was much more complex now than it had been yesterday.  Ms. Smith promised to get answers and Emily went back to her cell for the time being.

Yesterday the thought of going home had been unnerving for Emily.  Now, as she stared around her cell, she found that the thought of this being her home for a lot longer than anticipated was equally unnerving and comforting.

MANY MORE YEARS LATER:

Rebecca, a new inmate at Earlswood sighed, as she was led to the prison psychologist's office for her evaluation.  She understood that it was standard practice, especially for prisoners with long sentences like hers.  She didn't like it though.

The guard opened the door and Rebecca shuffled into the psychologist's office, her restraints making  movement difficult.  She stopped in her tracks as she saw the other woman.  She was bald and wearing an orange prison jumpsuit.  Her legs were chained together by a set of leg irons.

"I've seen you," Rebecca blurted out.  "You're..."

"Inmate 599237," the bald prisoner replied, "but in this office, I'm Dr. Emily Daniels, the prison psychologist.  You must be Rebecca.  I've seen you around."

"I've seen you too, but why is an inmate the psychologist?" Rebecca asked.

"That's an interesting story and I usually tell it to build trust with my patients," Emily said. "Why don't you sit down and I'll tell you."

Rebecca sat as Emily began talking.

Later, as the story came to its end, Rebecca asked, "So you never committed a crime, but you're stuck here?"

"I wouldn't put it exactly like that," Emily said.  "After Bluth went out of business, Ms. Smith arranged for me to finish my PhD at another university.  I was still in legal limbo since it didn't technically come from Bluth so it didn't meet the qualifications for me to be released.  She hired me as the prison psychologist, as she'd planned anyway, so that part worked out.

"It was going to be a long legal battle that I ultimately decided I didn't want to put Ms. Smith through or the prison through, especially after all they had done for me. So I volunteered to stay. 

"I work half a day on the chain gang and the other half doing therapy and psych evaluations."

Rebecca stared as she took in the information.

"So, if I understand this correctly, you basically volunteered to spend your life in prison?" she asked.

"Well, again, I wouldn't put it exactly like that, but it's not entirely wrong either," Emily replied.

"I just..." Rebecca sputtered, "I guess I don't understand.  All I want is to go home.  And you want to stay here?  Don't you want to be free again?"

"Honestly," Emily replied, "No. Not right now at least.  I've been here so long, I don't really remember what being free is like.  Remember that I've been here since I was 19 really.  I hadn't been away from home and experienced freedom too much by that point.  I also thrive on structure it seems, and prison provides the ultimate structure.  I know this may seem strange to you, but I truly believe that I was meant to spend my life in prison.

"Ms. Smith, before she retired, set up an investment account for me, so the little money I make working here should be enough to sustain me in retirement if I ever leave, but I don't plan on it. I'm still in legal limbo and that doesn't seem like it will ever be resolved.  I'm not sure I would adjust well to the outside world anyway."

"Wow," Rebecca said, "Just, wow."

Emily smiled kindly.

"But what about things like getting married and having a family?" Rebecca asked.

"You know, I never really wanted either of those," Emily replied.

"But are you really happy here?" Rebecca pressed further.

"I really am," Emily said.  She had answered this question for so many other patients before. "I think that, when I die, if my soul wakes up and finds itself in a prison cell again, I'll know for sure that there's a heaven."

Okay, that's laying it on a bit thick, Emily thought, but I think I've gotten the point across.

"Now," she said, pulling out her notebook, "let's talk about you Rebecca."

Later that night, after lights-out, Emily reclined on the bunk in her cell, thinking about her session with Rebecca.  They had a long way to go, but she had made some preliminary progress. 

Emily scratched her bald head before she rolled over and went to sleep.  She did good work here.  She felt like she was making the world a slightly better place by helping to make her fellow inmates slightly better people.

She knew deep down, that she was almost certainly never going to get out of prison.

She also knew, deep down, that she didn't want to.

Emily slept very well that night.