AUTHORS NOTE:
This is the real first chapter of HMP: Storybrooke (i.e. before the preview I posted before). I know this is a little slow to start but I wanted to get you guys something to thank you for the favourites and follows so I hope to get you a little more and our first Emma/Regina scene ASAP next chapter!
THANKS!
The pain is becoming unbearable now and she's sure she's not due her period but the warm, sticky liquid starting to flood from between her legs is telling her otherwise. Another wave of pain crashes over her and she doubles over clenching her stomach, struggling to stay upright. When it lessens enough she manages to make her way towards the door, and makes it just in time to throw her hands against it to support herself as her insides twist against themselves again and she cries out, "Arghhhh!" This isn't right. She bangs her firsts against the door, unable to open it, transferring the pain in her abdomen into her hands. She knows this isn't right. "Emma!"
# # # #
The yellow paint on the metal staircase amused Emma Swan even now, after years of seeing it; its pathetic attempt to lighten up the cold and sparse prison ward just reassured her negative opinion of the prison system. Like a shoddy paint job can cheer-up women separated from their children, their lives, women struggling with addiction and mental illness, women wrongfully committed. It would be better if they hadn't even made the attempt. She shook off her thoughts and her blonde ponytail bounced behind her, as she jogged up the final flight of stairs up to the third floor.
"Just a minute, what are you doing here?" Senior Officer Hershey questioned gruffly and positioned herself deliberately at the top of the stairs to block Emma's path to the landing. Cora Hershey was an older woman, and though she still boasted thick, dark hair, she acted a lot older still, as if the world owed her for a lifetime of hardship. Her chosen profession always raised more questions than it answered with anyone she met and despite her thoroughly vocalised dislike for the job, she wouldn't dream to look elsewhere. Preferring, instead, to wallow in self-pity and having something to rant about.
"I just wanted to check on Ashley before lock-up, I didn't see her around tonight at the fashion show rehearsal." Emma replied, concerned about her fellow in-mate, pushing onto her tiptoes in her more-or-less white trainers, to see if she could see her friend anywhere on the landing.
Hershey didn't budge. "You didn't see her because she didn't want to be seen." She scoffed, puffing out her chest in an effort to assert dominance. Emma was face to face height with Hershey despite standing one step below the prison officer so Hershey's effort had little effect. "She wanted a nice peaceful rest like you're holding me up from. So turn around."
Emma quickly tried to think of some way to appeal to whatever human nature existed in Cora Hershey that enabled her to be alive at all, but before she could reply, she heard Ashley calling her name.
"Emma!"
"Ashley?" Emma shouted to her fellow in-mate trying to squeeze past Hershey to the landing, but she blocked her path again.
"April! Take this inmate down to G2 please."
"I just want to see her." Emma pleaded as Officer Booth arrived to guide her to her cell.
"So you'll see her in the morning, alright?" Hershey replied, her voice dripping with false politeness, "Now move! Or I'll put you on report." All politeness gone now.
Emma liked to think she knew when to cut her loses but the rebel inside her rarely let her cut them cleanly; "You'd gas us in our cells if they told you too wouldn't you…" It really wasn't a question.
Emma turned to make her way down to her cell and keep the peace with Hershey, when her worst pain-in-the-ass pushed past her on the way up, filling her vision with fiery red hair. "Oi Zelena! Watch where you're going!" she called after the slim, red-head who was bounding up the stairs two at a time.
Zelena didn't even pause her advance towards her own cells or even turn her head as she taunted back, "Aw Emma, missed your goodnight kiss did ya? What a shame." Her call echoed through the large, stone building.
"Oh don't hurt your brain Zelena." Emma shouted up towards the retreating back, unable to let Zelena have the final word. She shook her head and continued her descent towards her own cell on G2.
"Emma!"
Officer Hershey huffed vocally as she plodded across the landing towards Ashley Boyd's cell.
"If you wanted to see people Ashley you should've come downstairs, shouldn't you?!" she called through the sickly green painted metal door.
"I want to see the doctor" Ashley pleaded through the pain. "I'm bleeding."
"Oh here we go…" Hershey moaned shaking her head, fed up and entirely finished with moaning women today, but Ashley continued to plead with her; "I'm not right miss, I'm telling you."
"You need a sani-towel?" Hershey questioned. Honestly, you'd think these women would know when to expect it; it's not like they've got a lot else to occupy their minds.
"I need seeing." Ashley implored again, but Hershey was having none of it.
"Just stop dramatising and get to bed. You can see the doctor in the morning if you're serious." Hershey shouted through the door one final time before plodding off again towards the stairs, more than ready to put her feet up. "Oh I'm going to murder a glass of wine" she mumbled to herself as she steps down onto the ground floor; fairly inappropriately given her surroundings.
"I need the doctor!" Ashley called out again, but her cries echoed onto the now silent landing of G3; her fellow-inmates securely locked up for the evening and the prison officers gathering in the wing office on the ground floor preparing for shift handover.
Hearing no response she collected herself as best she could and tried to stumble towards her bed, but the pain was too much and she fell to her knees just shy of it. The pain was longer coming in waves, instead it had settled for permanent residence in her abdomen and lower, and she struggled to pull herself up onto the thin mattress. She lay there crying out to no-one and her hands clutched her stomach, blood draining from between her legs drenched her nightgown and the mattress below her and she continued to cry out.
# # # #
Regina Mills guided her red Ford Fiesta to a stop at the red light in front of her, and using the stop to her benefit quickly flicked down the mirror above her head and pulled her fuck-me-red Chanel lipstick out of her purse. She applied it carefully, and smoothing her lips together appreciated her reflection in the small mirror. Her sleek, dark brown hair sat perfectly; her cut curling gently around the collar of her leather jacket. She rarely wore much make-up other than some tinted moisturiser and mascara, but her Chanel lipstick was a treat she afforded herself as she always felt an extra boost of confidence when she wore it, and confidence was a definite requirement for her position. Regina was the relatively new Wing Governor of 'G Wing' at HMP Storybrooke. Regina was a lot younger than most others who had held the position, thanks to being fast tracked into the prison systems graduate training scheme straight out of university. She had demonstrated clear passion and determination to improve the UKs prison system through her education, and following a fairly difficult upbringing, she felt a natural sense of justice and somewhat empathy for the incarcerated women she was determined to steer towards the straight and narrow. Still checking her appearance she jumped suddenly as she heard horns blare behind her and cursed to herself when she noticed the now green light. Quickly throwing her lipstick back into her purse, she pushed the stick into gear and speed through the crossing and on towards her destination. A few minutes later she pulled up to the first of many gates into the prison. She wound down the passenger window to talk to the guard but he opened the barrier and waved her through. "Don't you need to see some I.D.?" she questioned but the large, burly guard simply waved her on again. Smirking to herself that he'd finally learnt to recognise her, she steered the car carefully through the barriers and parked up. Grabbing her purse she climbed out of her car and inhaled deeply as she stared up at the imposing stone building that had once been a castle. Ready for the day she collected herself and marched confidently towards the second gate of many into the prison.
# # # #
The building was rapidly filling with the sounds of keys clanging, heavy cell doors creaking open and women greeting each other good morning, as the prison officers made their way through the landings un-locking the inmates of G wing. Senior Officer Hershey was making the rounds of G3 with fellow Officer David Nolan. "Breakfast ladies!" she called as she unlocked another cell door. "Come on, out you get, we haven't got all day!" she called as she yanked the key back out of the lock and moved on to the next door.
Across the landing from her Officer Nolan made his way towards Ashley Boyd's cell.
"Morning Ashley!" Nolan called as he unlocked the door. He hadn't even opened the door the whole way when he spotted her, a bloody mess lying unconscious on her bed. He froze as the scene burned into his mind. Her nightdress was pulled up her thighs, dark brown and red stains from pools of drying blood covering it and her mattress. Her face was pale with black smudges of mascara staining her skin and matting her blonde hair. Her form was curled into a ball with her left arm lying by her stomach. Her right arm was mostly pinned beneath her but her forearm was hanging limp and bruised off the edge of the metal frame of the bed, her right hand completely covered in red and black crusting blood. There was a small pool of blood on the floor where it had obviously been dripping off her hand.
"We need a doctor!" Nolan shouted out frantically, snapping out of his haze, and Hershey's head spun round towards his direction. Heart skipping a beat as she noticed he was at Ashley Boyd's cell she crossed the landing as fast as her aging legs would allow her.
"What?!" She queried as she rounded the corner to peer into the cell, and gasped. She grabbed Nolan's arm and shoved him in the direction of the three cells she had just unlocked. "Get those three back in their cell now. Do it!" Nolan faltered for only a second before he rushed over and ushered the woman back into their cells and secured the doors.
Hershey pulled the cell door to block Ashley's body from view but didn't close it and hastily pulled out her radio; "'Tango One' to 'Hotel'" she declared and waited for a response. "'Tango One' to 'Hotel'!" she repeated louder, panic lacing her voice.
# # # #
Regina was working steadily through a large stack of paperwork, which she swore had grown over-night, when a knock at her door interrupted her flow.
"Come in." she called and the door opened to reveal one of her officers; Robert Gold. He was dressed smartly in his crisp prison officer uniform though his hair was a little longer than regulations really permitted.
"Morning mam," he greeted, sipping from a steaming cup of tea as he entered her office.
Regina rolled her eyes, "Oh please Bobby, I'm not the bloody Queen" she responded, voicing her displeasure at being called mam. No way was she old enough to be called mam. Bobby Gold knew full well she disliked it but he revelled in taking stabs at her, no matter how small.
"Sorry, good morning Regina." He corrected emphasising her name as he made his way towards her window to stare out at the world below them.
"Morning Bobby," Regina replied sitting back in her chair, her lilac silk shirt pulling out of the waist of her skirt a little with the movement, waiting to hear the purpose of his visit, but it didn't offer itself. "So?" she probed, and Gold spun to face her almost as if he'd forgotten she was there in the first place.
"Right, I wanted a word with you about Annabelle French." he stated.
Regina had read every one of her in-mate files and the name was familiar but she was still fairly new and an image of the inmate eluded her. "French?" she queried.
"New young offender…first timer. She's on 30 months for intent to supply… we put her in the dorm…?"
Regina clicked; Annabelle French was only 19 and very pretty with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. She had a young child too Regina remembered.
"How's she settling in?" she asked genuinely concerned.
Gold sipped his tea again and mustered up his best impression of giving a shit. "Not too good. It worries me. Poor thing's got victim written all over her and if any of the other girls think she still has drug connections…" he paused sucking air through his teeth to emphasise his concern, "Well, I think we should try keep her out of harm's way until we can send her to open." He finished taking a large gulp of tea, watching Regina intently over the rim of the cup, waiting for her agreement.
Regina spared a second to think straightening up in her chair and smoothing out her shirt, "When we have a spare single we can move her up to 'enhanced'." G3, the third landing of G wing, was single cells reserved for well-behaved prisoners who were rewarded with an 'enhanced' status; entitling those to personal cells, better work assignments and other perks.
This was a good start but Gold wanted a little more. He paused and settled his mug on Regina's desk as he paced a little, pretending to think. He stopped and turned back to face her; "We could put her on red band though couldn't we?" he raised his eyebrows towards Regina, "Let her work for us in the office?" he shrugged.
Regina felt a wave of mistrust flow through her as she observed Gold. He talked a good talk but there was always something about him that didn't sit right with her. His apparent concern for Annabelle French was making her uncomfortable.
"You think she's that stable?" she asked. It wasn't a good idea to put too much pressure on an in-mate, especially one who was completely new to the system like Annabelle.
Gold shrugged, "I think she'd be a normal kid on her way to college given a chance." He answered and it connected with a deep belief within Regina.
"So might most of the women out there," she countered in defence of every other woman on her wing.
Gold was getting frustrated now but he knew he had to go about this the right way. He had already born witness to Regina Mills uncompromising nature and knew he couldn't go against her guns blazing; he needed to attack her emotional side. Women.
"Yeah? Well I'm willing to put my own money on her, otherwise I think she'll go under." He stated knowing Regina couldn't ignore the possibility of losing an in-mate with so much potential to repeat offender status.
She knew she couldn't ignore it either and relented. "Okay, go ahead." She agrees, authorising Gold to assign Annabelle office work duty. He smiled, nodded and made his way to leave.
"Uh Bobby," Regina called and he cursed under his breath before turning back to her, raising his eyebrows in question.
Regina looked up at him and nodded towards his cup still sitting on her desk.
He made a face indicating his shock at forgetting in and reached forward to collect it. Regina smirked at her minor victory over his pathetic attempt to walk over her, as he turned his back to her again making his way out the door, a little more successfully this time.