A/N: I own the character of Macey Ann…nothing else. This chapter is a prologue (sorta). It introduces Macey to you and the next chapter will be shorter…:) ENJOY! P.s. THE LAST CHAPTER OF ITS ME OR IRENE WILL BE UP SOON! :) JUST WANTED TO GET THIS OUT THERE NOW!
LONDON- PRESENT DAY
"Macey! Wake up!" Three hard thuds sounded on the oak door of Macey's assigned room –or her assigned prison cell, as she called it.
Macey lifted her head and rolled her squinted eyes at the closed, locked door. She rested her head back down on her lumpy mattress that was void of sheets and blankets and shut her eyes, hoping to succumb to sweet, dreamless sleep. Sheets and blankets were a luxury when you lived in a house specifically designed for young juvenile women, like Macey did. There were rarely any nights that you'd be fine with having no blankets to keep you safe and warm, but like Ms. Winston said, "Blankets and sheets are a privilege and are meant for good little girls. You girls are not good little girls."
"Macey! Get your ass out of that bed, young lady!" Ms. Winston's manly voice boomed through the paper thin wall, her patience clearly wearing thin. She pounded on the door continuously, each thud getting stronger and angrier.
Macey let out a sigh of defeat. "Fine." The pounding didn't cease. "Fine! I'm coming!" Macey jumped up from the bed and walked the length to the door. The banging on the door hadn't stopped and she contemplated even walking up to the door, fearing that the insistent pounding would make the door fly off the hinges and crush her beneath the solid oak. Macey pushed the fears away and yanked the door open, almost getting hit in the head as she did so when Ms. Winston's fist aimed for where the closed door used to be. Lucky for Macey, Ms. Winston had cat-like reflexes. It made sense though, seeing as Ms. Winston was trained in the art of self-defense. She would have to be if she was to live in a house of juveniles who could go on an angry, vengeful rampage at any moment.
"Macey!" Ms. Winston gasped in disgust. "You look awful! Have you even washed your rat-nest you call hair today?"
Macey rolled her eyes as she pushed past Ms. Winston and the small crowd of onlookers the situation had created. "I just woke up. What do you think?" Macey snapped back, headed towards the small, cheap bathroom that was shared by every juvenile on the second floor of the house.
Each floor had one bathroom, ten rooms, and a small sitting room. Nobody used the sitting room, seeing as nobody really talked to each other in the house. They were all here to serve their sentence, not make friends. The ground floor had a larger sitting room, a kitchen with small necessary appliances, a dining room table –again, never used- and a master bedroom complete with a walk-in closet, private bathroom, a mini-fridge, a home theatre system, and a desktop computer.
The grand, dream-like room belonged to Ms. Winston, the parole officer in charge of the twenty girls who occupied the small, rickety, old 1920's farmhouse.
From the outside, the house looked abandoned, almost like a graveyard for forgotten, dead dreams.
That's how it feels, so, spot on, Macey thought.
"Hurry up and take your shower! We need to get to the airport extra early, Macey!" Ms. Winston called after her.
Macey shut the bathroom door and leaned against it, sighing at the feeling of finally being alone…at least for the ten minutes she was allowed. She started the water and undressed, tossing her clothes into the corner. Macey stepped into the mildew covered shower and shivered. The water was cold, which she shouldn't have been surprised at…it always was.
Macey shampooed and conditioned, leaving washing her body for last. She grabbed the cheap bar of soap –a soap bar like the ones you would find at a hotel- and lathered the dirty parts of her body. She placed the soap back into its rightful place and shut the water off. She pushed the shower curtain to the side and reached for a towel. Her hand grabbed air…she had forgotten her towel in the room.
"Shit…" Macey cussed under her breath. She searched the small space for any sort of cloth she could dry off with, but there was nothing. Macey emerged from the shower and trudged her way over to the small cupboard on the wall by the closed, curtained window, the water dripping off of her body onto the poorly tiled floor. She prayed in her head and opened the old, creaky cupboard. Almost as if her prayers were answered, a towel was crumpled up and stuffed into the corner. She grabbed it and shook all the cobwebs out of it, letting them float to the floor. She eyed it and decided whether to use it or not. She used the sniff test and shrugged. It didn't smell moldy or full of sweat at all.
"Eh, it'll have to do." Macey dried her hair the best she could and wrapped the old towel around her torso, tucking one of the corners into her armpit to keep it from falling. She opened the door and was greeted by Ms. Winston's impatient figure standing in her way.
"It has been fifteen minutes. We are going to be late, Macey." Ms. Winston gave a look of disgust as her hand took hold of a lock of Macey's dark brown hair. "Macey! Look at your hair!" She whined. "It's awful!"
Macey huffed, clearly annoyed. "It's wet." She earned a glare. "It's not like I'm supposed to be model-ready."
"But you have to at least look presentable!" Ms. Winston grabbed Macey's ear and dragged her back into the bathroom. Ms. Winston rummaged through the drawers in the bathroom until she produced a comb. She ran it through Macey's hair, with many tangles and knots making it a challenge. She yanked the comb through the snarls, with much objection from Macey. Once the comb could glide easily through her locks, she retrieved the blow-dryer. She forced Macey to stand still as she dried her hair. Once her hair was completely dry, she brought a pink bow out from a different drawer.
"No! No, you are not putting that in my hair." Macey complained. "I don't want to look like a Barbie doll."
"You are such a tomboy." Ms. Winston ignored her complaints and put a rubber band in her hair, making it a beautiful pinwheel bun. The parole officer tied the bow around the bun and bobby-pinned the strands of hair that had been too short to go in the bun behind her head. Ms. Winston stepped back and let Macey take in her appearance.
Macey's mouth fell open slightly. Her hair was pulled up with the ends of the bow just visible above her shoulders. Her bangs were covering her forehead completely, not letting the tiniest bit of skin show. A couple of strands were intentionally left out of the bun, shaping her face and making her look like…well, a girl. Her brown eyes took on a gleam as she finally felt pretty for once. Macey's eyes traveled down and she scowled. She was still in her towel and she could feel that she was fully dry, the towel feeling scratchy against her naked body.
"Can I get dressed now?" Macey asked, her voice on edge.
"Not until I do your makeup." Ms. Winston left the room to retrieve her beauty supplies.
Macey retreated to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, not bothering to lock it knowing that she'd just be yelled at anyway. She went to her small dresser and hunted for a pair of jeans without holes and the nicest shirt she owned –a nice pink blouse with little red flowers beaded onto it. She dressed and applied her old tennis shoes that were one jog away from completely falling apart. She pulled her travel bag out from under the bed and started shoving enough clothes for two weeks into it. She zippered it and almost screamed as she turned and was jumped by Ms. Winston, armed with a mascara applier.
Macey jumped back. "No. No makeup!"
Ms. Winston crossed her arms. "Stop acting like a baby. You're sixteen, Macey. All normal sixteen-year-olds wear makeup, believe it or not."
"Yeah, well…not me." Macey glowered.
Ms. Winston glanced around the room. Manila folders and books about famous detectives and their work were cracked open and all over the floor. "This is filthy…" She crouched down and picked up one of the manila folders on the ground. She opened it and squinted at it. "What is this?"
"Nothing." Macey tried to grab it from Ms. Winston's hands.
Ms. Winston pulled it away before she could get it. "Is this a case?"
Macey blushed. "Give that to me!" She snatched it away and hugged it to her chest.
"What are you doing with a case?" Ms. Winston eyed her inquisitively.
"It's something to do when I'm locked up in this Hell!" Macey blew up in her face and had to clench her fists to stop herself from striking the woman in anger. She tossed the file on the ground and kicked it under the bed.
Macey decided that she had had enough of the conversation so she tossed her backpack over her shoulder and stormed out of the room. She descended the steps, Ms. Winston on her heels, and made her way to the kitchen. She opened the cupboard and began to pack slim-jims, beef jerky, and individual bags of chips into her bag.
"What are you doing?" Ms. Winston demanded, slamming the cupboard shut and snatching her bag away.
"Packing snacks. It's a seven hour plane ride, Doris. I don't have any money to buy snacks on the plane, so I just thought-"
"No. You are not to take any snacks from this house. We have twenty mouths to feed and we are on a budget, Macey. You can take one of each…no more. And don't you call me Doris. My name is Ms. Winston to you." Ms. Winston dropped her bag and ran to get her suitcase. Macey didn't put the snacks back, preparing to lie that she did.
Ms. Winston returned with her suitcase and ushered Macey out the door, engaging the alarm as she left. The alarm prevented any of the girls from escaping, emitting a signal to the local police if the invisible lines were crossed.
"Why do you even have to come? It's not like I'm going to run." Macey slumped down into the backseat of the police cruiser as Ms. Winston started the car.
"I'm not going with you." She replied, pulling out of the driveway.
Macey gave her a questioning look. "Then why the suitcase?" Macey pointed back at the expensive brown leather suitcase.
"I'm dropping you off at the airport, transferring you to another officer who will be waiting, and heading off to my sisters." Ms. Winston kept her response short. Share things with delinquents and they start to feel like you're bonding with them.
"Of course. Once I leave, you go on vacation." Macey muttered. At least she'd be away from Ms. Winston's wrath and have some time without being told what to do.
The rest of the ride was spent in aching silence. Macey had begged Ms. Winston to turn on the radio, but she was met with the familiar response.
"Music is a privilege. Music is for good little girls and you Macey are-"
"Are not a good little girl. I got it." Macey slumped back down and crossed her arms over her chest.
The silence rolled back in almost like a dark cloud covering the cruiser and nothing else in the world.
Macey looked out the window at the pedestrians and the passerby's who were engrossed in conversation as the cruiser rolled past. They were smiling, clearly having fun with each other and enjoying the warm, sunny weather. Macey couldn't help but feel jealous of them. They got to do everything she was forbid to do. They got to hang out with friends, play outside, drive, go anywhere in the world they wanted to, and not have to worry about your parole officer breathing down your neck.
Macey closed her eyes and it seemed just as she did, Ms. Winston was informing her that they had arrived. Macey sat up and stared at the large airport, the size making her stomach churn.
Ms. Winston pulled over to the curb and parked in a spot, showing another officer her badge as she exited the car.
The officer helped Macey with her bag and placed a firm hand on her shoulder.
"Macey, wait!" Ms. Winston jogged over and stopped them from walking. She dug in her pocket for something and handed it to her.
Macey turned it over in her hand and smiled. A pack of gum.
"It's a long flight. It helps with the popping in your ears." Ms. Winston smiled.
Macey was almost uncomfortable with the friendly gesture. They had always been enemies, but she could see Ms. Winston was genuine with her actions.
"Thanks, Dor- I mean, Ms. Winston." Macey watched as Ms. Winston returned to the cruiser and waved goodbye.
The officer escorted her to Gate N22 and they took a seat, waiting for the plane.
Macey stole a glance at the officer's name-plate and smirked. "Officer Harmon? Do you have a first name?"
Officer Harmon stared at one of the T.V.'s hung from the ceiling for the awaiting passengers pleasure and ignored Macey's question.
"So, what? You can't talk? Are you incapable of creating speech? No habla ingles?" Macey pestered him.
Officer Harmon shot her a glare and then returned to watching the T.V..
"Well, you're not deaf…you just proved that to me. But, can you talk or are you some sort of mysterious 'I'm so serious', 'I hate the world' kind of guy?"
"No. I just don't appreciate low-life criminals." He snapped, never looking at her.
Macey felt the anger boil inside her, but before she could defend herself, the woman behind the flight counter called their ticket number.
Macey felt Officer Harmon drag her to her feet and push her toward the plane. They boarded and sat in their assigned seats.
This is going to be a long flight, she thought, annoyed.
Macey ran her hand through her hair and felt the Barbie-style bun.
Just because we had a nice moment doesn't mean I'm going to do everything she wants.
Macey pulled the bow off and undid the pinwheel bun. She pulled the bobby pins out of her hair and threw them on the plane floor, this action earning her a stern glare from Officer Harmon. Macey shrugged and shook her hair out.
She looked out the window at the run-way and pictured herself jumping from the plane, running across the run-way, and finally being free from all this crap. But, here she was. On a seven hour flight, in route to a city she had never been to.
Macey sighed. "New York, here I come."
THANKS FOR READING! THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL HAVE SHERLOCK AND JOAN IN IT! I PROMISE!
PLEASE FAV/FOLLOW/REVIEW!