The Perfect Lie (The Perfect Stranger #3) - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,39

start my life with the $92,000 that we had and that that would be enough.

Now I wonder why I would need to settle for so little.

24

Tyler

The next couple of days go by pretty much the same. I collect all of my research and I annotate. I have up days and down days.

On my up days, I make $300-$500 and on my down days, I lose about $200. This isn't unexpected. This is just how the game is played.

At the end of the month, at the end of the year, you just want to be up more than you are down. I finally feel comfortable enough to set certain goals.

For instance, I want to clear $50,000 by the end of the month. I'm not sure if I'm going to make it all the way, but I hope that I can get close. I'm going to pay off some of the credit cards and then spend the rest on reinvesting in the business.

Fifty grand sounds like a lot, but it's a long way to go to a million. Once I’m closer to fifty, I'm not going to buy and sell so aggressively every day. There are going to be certain stock positions that I'm going to keep for a long time, meaning a few months.

A couple days later, I apply for another credit card, this one with a lower percentage rate. I'm surprised when I'm approved.

It's Friday and the market closes so I decide to take a break.

Looking out of the window, across from my motel, I see the neon sign for the local bar. There are no lines outside, no bouncer checking IDs, and no turning away of attractive patrons. It's just a door into a building with no windows.

Occasionally, when someone goes in, I get a glimpse of the inside. White tables, a weathered bar top, and more weathered bartenders.

It's Friday and the place is busier than normal. I see a few people from the motel make their way over there and I want to go, too.

It's not a good idea. I know that.

I don't have my new identification and I'm still in California, but what if I kept my hat over my eyes?

It has been almost a week since I left Isabelle and to avoid the pain and heartbreak, I did the only thing that I ever knew how to do, Work.

Work has always been my go-to. It has been the thing that I turn to when times get tough and when I just can't deal with life.

I haven't worked in a really long time. Not like this. The monotony and the cacophony of working in prison laundry stops you from using your mind.

You become just your body and nothing else. You lift heavy things, you throw, you fold. I used to think that it was better not thinking there, but it's never good to not think. Your mind, and keeping your mind engaged, is what makes you survive through all the hardships.

About a year into my sentence, when I realized that I was probably never going to be getting out of there, I gave up drinking prison wine and smoking prison marijuana and went clean.

Drugs and alcohol help you survive on the outside, but for prisoners, they’re almost a necessity. They also dull your senses and make the time harder to do.

I was never much into religion or spirituality, but I started to meditate. I read about mysticism and I thought about life on another plane of existence.

None of the other stuff stuck, but meditation did. So, I’d close my eyes and imagine being somewhere else. At first, it was difficult. Prison is loud and I could only do it at night.

After a while, after doing it long enough, I realized that I could do it anywhere. Even in the middle of dinner in the chow hall. I’d close my eyes and just be somewhere else.

Immediately.

I do the same thing now. I close my eyes and suddenly I'm with Isabelle. I stare into her deep, dark eyes and I ask her why. Why did she do that to me? She doesn't answer. She just shakes her head and a tear runs down her cheek.

I open my eyes and watch a few more people walk into a bar. I want to have a drink. I could drive over to any grocery store and buy some beer and drink here alone, but I also want to be normal.

It's not other people's company that I seek, it's just being in their