Just a simple one-shot I decided to write... I had the idea while watching Chicago (for the billionth time ^^) and when Velma sung "I can't do it alone" something in me just snapped, and I though "Yeah, why not? After all, everyone has a soft side!" and I honestly just love to dig Velma's personality and find new things and perspectives about her. That's what I get from playing her in a project with my theater group XD
And also a little view on my favorite murderesses and their families!
Well, what else can I say? I hope you enjoy the story!
It was visiting time in the Cook County jail, and if there was a time when I preferred to do the laundry instead of being there with the other prisoners, it was that time.
Visiting time… what a stupid thing to attend to when you no longer have a family.
Of course I must have an aunt, or a cousin lost somewhere, but I never got to meet them, and even if I did, I doubt they would visit me in this shit hole… Who cared anyway? Right now I was on my own, a woman in her late twenties all alone, with only her fame, which by the way, I could feel slipping through my fingers as the days went by, my fame being taken by that dumb blonde puppet, Roxie.
Yes, I could say now that Velma Kelly was positively and completely alone.
I sat in one of the corners of the small room, watching as the visitors entered one by one; men, children accompanied with their mothers, even a few older people entered, dressed in their bluenoses outfits from the last decade… all of them, passing by me without even giving me a second look; they were busy looking for their respective relatives.
I could wait for someone to come and talk to me, but I knew this person would never come.
There was always my lawyer, Billy Flynn, who was the only one who still visited me, but if my money suddenly disappeared, he wouldn't care of looking at my face again. I'd turn into a dumb common criminal and the only person who still talked to me would be gone.
It was hard to believe, but even the foulest girls arrested there with me had visitors; I watched as a girl from the other side of the barrier handed a handful of pills and medications to Liz, together with a new box of matches; the girl seemed to be her sister; they had the same shade of hair, and the same shape of eyes, and I could even notice they had the same skinny figure (the sister looked more fragile, though)… she looked tired, worried and overall defeated; probably the black spots under her eyes and premature wrinkles reflected the worries of taking care of a demented sibling… Of course I didn't know what that felt like.
If Veronica was alive I'd probably be seen as the crazy one…
My sister never took care of me; she preferred to leave bruises and scratches in my arms and face, letting myself taking care of her signs of affection alone. Being four years older than me, she always held the advantage, even when we were teenagers. I had to wait until I could repay the favors she did to my body and self esteem. I think I did justice though… She had it coming, she always had it coming.
My eyes avert from Liz and her sister and they rested on June, the toughest girl in the whole prison now smiles and melts away with the sight of a little girl around her five or six years old - her daughter, probably - who is being escorted properly by her grandma… At least I thought so; the three women seemed very similar; chocolate brown skin, dark intense eyes, an overall strong figure… even June's mother, who now released the hold in the little girl's hand to allow her to run to the barrier to see the captive, seems to posses that fierceness, and she seemed like, seventy years old… Maybe it was genetic.
Again, my mind wanders, and I think about my own mother…
The bitch never cared about me; ever since I was a little child I knew I was an accident, I knew I wasn't planned and I wasn't wanted in that family… My mother told me my dad left us when I was born; he didn't want me either. They always loved Veronica more, and no matter how many bruises and black eyes I got from my sister, mother would always manage to put the blame on me… She, of course, covered the absence of a father very well, spanking me now and then, whenever I did something wrong.
I felt so immensely relieved the day my mother died. Pneumonia or something like that… I didn't care, it was a heavy weight taken off from my shoulders and I never felt better in my life.
The visit continues and I see many other families reuniting in that little period of time; Annie talking with an old man who seemed to be her father, Mona holding hands with a much younger man, maybe her brother, Katelyn speaking fast with her mother in that damned language I couldn't understand a word, and crying; god, how that girl cried! I wonder how she doesn't dehydrate with the amount of tears she sheds in a day.
I look around and keep searching… no husband in sight, though… It's hard to see any husband in this block, due to the constant number of girl who murders their men; I know about it, I'm one of them. But of course there's the exception: An average looking guy, who can passes through you and you don't even notice, a guy I took a long time to perceive but who was always there, since the beginning, since the day his wife got arrested.
In a corner, there was Roxie, with her arms crossed over her chest, listening to a guy that held his hands outstretched for her to take, but she wouldn't move… She seemed she wanted to be anywhere else but there, listening to her husband. Amos was a hell of a guy; no matter how many times Roxie would turn him down, he would always return, like a loyal dog. I knew his name as I knew the name of every visitor who came… I knew them, but they wouldn't bother in knowing me, what for, anyway? Who wants to listen to a criminal who once used to be a famous performer? Sometimes in these visiting periods I feel I'm made of cellophane, and Velma Kelly should never feel like this.
I kept watching as Amos finally averted his hands from the counter; he didn't seemed defeated thought, he smiled to his wife and all I could see in his bright blue eyes was love… He would die for Roxie and I couldn't help but feel that the guy deserved better than that twat.
I deserved better than Charlie…
All I wanted was a guy who admired me, who loved me and treated me like I should always be treated. Charlie seemed all that at first, but then I discovered he wasn't doing anything but being a big fat liar… Maybe he never loved me the way I loved him. Maybe he just wanted a girl to have fun with, and then he ended up with a wife, maybe not even wanting this to happen…
I shake my head firmly as unwelcomed tears threaten to escape from my eyes; I didn't love him, I didn't love him.
I could repeat those four words until they lost their meaning, but I would never convince myself that I didn't miss my husband, or even my sister to be completely honest with myself. I missed not only them, but the whole idea of having someone, of having a visitor every week, of… yeah, why not? Being loved.
Despite the though façade, the fierce looks and unbreakable outside, Velma Kelly is still human.
And god, how I wished to see a face through that fence… How I wished to receive a smile, a bouquet of flowers – from someone who actually knew me, from someone who gives me a gift just because just to see I'd be happy about it – how I wished to hold hands with that someone, how I wished I could cry like Katelyn, melt my heart away like June, or even smile warmly like Liz when she saw her sister, so tired, yet so still full of love for her…
Before I notice, it's already time for us to go back to our cells, and the visitors to go away. I glance one more time before I turn around and leave, to see pieces of scattered families saying goodbye to each other. They dissolve and separate again, like grains of sand thrown into the wind.
And there's me; Velma Kelly, always by herself, always managing to do it alone.
Damn, how I hate visiting time…
I got a little bit too poetic at the end ahahaha ignore it!
Velma just needs a hug, the poor thing is way too lonely! :3
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Thanks for reading! :D