So this is my first posting, although I started writing this piece a good while ago now. At the minute I'm not exactly sure just how long it'll be but it's definitely a serial! All I can say is, I hope you guys like my stuff- go easy on me lol!
Thanks a million.
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‘In response to the evidence put forward by both sides, this jury has found the defendant guilty of attempted theft and aggravated battery and assault; this court has sentenced you to five years’ imprisonment…’
This was the moment that twenty-two year-old Cora Sands was incarcerated, and the day the world
as she knew it ended. Four months later, she was still reliving it in her dreams.
Cora sat bolt upright in her creaky bunk. It had happened again. But each time, details of the dream would change. The barristers would be wearing blue clown wigs, or the judge would be stroking a large white Persian cat. Cora didn’t understand these things, and she couldn’t see how something you dreamt of could have significance. But somewhere at the back of her mind, something wasn’t right. The bell for breakfast rang then, causing Cora to jump. She both loved and hated the sound of that bell; every time it sounded signalled the start of another day in this hellhole. And yet, at the same time, it meant she had survived the day before; each time it sounded, she was a day closer to freedom. Cora rolled off her bunk and stepped into her slippers. She walked over to the spotted mirror and stared at her reflection. Her normally vibrant red hair, a mass of curls pre-prison, was flat and unwashed-looking; the sad green eyes gazed out from under her bangs and the full red lips were turned down slightly as she frowned at herself, hating the person she saw staring back at her.
“What are you doing?”
This voice was what kept Cora sane. Saskia Micaw, Cora’s angel. Well, her Hell’s angel anyway. Cora shifted her gaze in the mirror to look at her friend, who was sitting up in her bed, looking groggy.
“Nothing.” Cora turned round and lifted her towel and her drab grey sweats. “I’m going for a shower,” she said, picking up her toiletry bag. “You coming?” Saskia shook her head and pushed her long blonde hair back from her face.
“Nope,” she said, lying back down. “I think I’ll just get forty more winks.”
Before she knew what was happening the blankets were whipped off her, exposing her long bronzed legs. Saskia’s renewed tan was the result of her last prison escape. She’d made it all the way back home to California and she’d managed to dodge the cops for almost a month before they’d caught her. Now she glared defiantly up at the guard on duty; a formidable hulk of a woman, with beady black eyes and her mousy hair pulled back into a bun so tight her eyes were constantly stretched slightly; the girls all called her The Bulk.
“That was the breakfast bell, Ms Micaw, not the ‘forty more winks’ bell. Get up now or I’ll arrange for you to be isolated.” The Bulk then strode out of the open cell door, but not before giving Cora the Look that many of the guards gave the prisoners. The Look that said, ‘Why must you exist? If I had my way…’ etcetera. Cora pulled a face at the retreating back and turned to Saskia.
“You were saying?”
Saskia rolled her blue eyes.
“Alright, alright! God, you’re like my mother!”
Saskia continued to swear about the most hated prison guards all the way through showering, and then through breakfast. However, when Dillon the handyman walked through on his way to fix something in the kitchen, apparently inadvertently catching her eye, she shut up completely. This happened anytime Dillon and Saskia passed one another and it surprised Cora every time. Saskia was the most outgoing, loud person in the jail, excepting a few screamers, and she had no shyness when it came to flirting openly with the male prison guards. They, of course, couldn’t do anything about this, but they loved the attention. Saskia was a knockout; tall, young, fun, gorgeous…every man’s dream. Yet when it came to Dillon, she was hopelessly quiet. To Cora, it was exasperating. She could tell it was because her friend really cared for him, but still…it was frustrating!
“Why don’t you talk to Dillon?” Cora asked over their cold toast and marmalade. Saskia frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
Cora clicked her tongue at her friend, swallowing a lump of what tasted like cardboard.
“Are you serious? You are actually going to pretend to me that you aren’t interested in him?”
Saskia averted her gaze and stood up from the table.
“Look, I’ll catch you later. I’ve got some place to be.”
Saying this, she walked out of the dreary canteen, before Cora had a chance to ask where Saskia could possibly have to be. They were in the state penitentiary, for crying out loud! Cora shook her head. She just didn’t get it. Glancing over at the kitchen, Cora saw Dillon come out. She saw his eyes dart over to the same table Cora and Saskia always sat at and she noticed him look away quickly when he caught her staring back at him. Making sure none of the guards were paying attention, Cora got up and hurried out the door after Dillon. She followed him into the empty corridor, and called his name. He turned round, seeming surprised.
“Chill, I just wanna talk to you.”
Dillon shrugged and ran a hand through his messy hair.
“Whatever,” he replied. He turned round again and kept walking. Cora’s brow wrinkled. Why was he walking away? She hurried after him until they were walking side by side.
“What’s up with you?” Cora enquired.
Dillon glanced sideways at her but maintained his steady pace.
“I’d like to keep my job, if that’s alright with you,” he replied. Cora made a face.
“And? I’d wanna keep mine too. If I had one.”
Dillon laughed.
“I guess that’s just one of the many luxuries of being inside,” he quipped, actually turning his head now to look at her. Cora smiled.
“One of many,” she agreed. This was progress. Merry banter. It wasn’t exactly he and Saskia walking up the aisle yet, but it was definitely a start.
“So what do you wanna talk to me about?” he asked. Cora tried to catch his eye.
“I think you know,” she said, still trying to get a clue as to what he was thinking. Dillon was quiet for a moment.
But then;
“Yeah, I think I do.” Another pause. “But Alexia just won’t talk to me.” Cora started to nod, then stopped.
“Huh?”
Dillon continued. “I’ve tried to get a chance to speak with her but…she’s not having any of it.”
By now, Cora was racking her brains to think of whom in the prison Dillon could be talking about. She didn’t know anyone called Alexia, and it’s not as though it’s a very common name. Surely she would recognise it. By now, Dillon was looking at her curiously, obviously expecting her to reply.
“Um…I think we’ve got our wires crossed somewhere along the line,” she told him. “Who’s Alexia?”
Dillon frowned before laughing.
“Who’s Alexia? You’re kidding, right?”
Cora made a face. What the hell was this guy talking about?
“Dillon, I’m not messing around. Who are you talking about?”
Now it was Dillon’s turn to be confused. Cora decided to elaborate.
“I was here to talk to you about my friend, Saskia.”
“Saskia?”
“Yeah.” Now Cora was pissed. This loser didn’t even know Saskia’s name. Dillon was shaking his head.
“Look, I don’t know who you mean, but the girl I’m talking about is the only real friend you seem to have. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, tanned. She’s your cellmate, I think.”
Cora nodded. “Her name’s not Alexia. It’s Saskia Micaw.”
Dillon smiled and shook his head some more.
“She’s done it again,” he murmured, as they neared the exit out to the gardens. Cora stepped out in front of him in the doorway. She knew they couldn’t be seen together and outside was too open. She wanted to sort this out now.
“Alright look,” she said. “My cellmate, Saskia Micaw, is the same girl you’re talking about, yes? Why do you think she’s called Alexis?” Dillon set down his toolbox.
“Alexia,” he corrected Cora, who shook her head.
“Regardless. The fact of the matter is, that’s not her name. I came here to talk to you about you and her finally getting it together,” she explained. Dillon laughed.
“What? That’s disgusting!” he cried. Cora was now about ready to do something that would her put away for a lot longer than five years.
“Listen, you jerk-”
“Why would I go out with my baby sister?”
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As for the 'grievous bodily harm' terminology bit, Watervyper, I'm from the UK, maybe it's different here, or then again, maybe I don't watch enough crime shows lol! But i'll look it up, thanks! And I'll try and get a little more in about the setting in my next installment. PLease keep up the reading amigos, cheers!
