The wounds bled like they ever were remaining fresh after all these years of grieving and reassuring she did the right thing. The sourness never really disappeared labeled with orange tag stating expiration date is nowhere to be found. Piper learned all that in very short period of time after passing especially humiliating stripping process when the clock of her serving time got reset to zero. Eighteen months to go to survive like a stray dog thrown in a fight cage.
To be honest, Piper was relieved she ended up not that alone in this boot camp for criminals, after all. The feelings were still pretty mixed up and messy where she discovered she could not even look at Alex for all this bitterness brunette caused her to the point she actually got halfway confident there's no limits for Piper's loathing. The messy part is the part that was kinda screwing everything over for Piper in her plotting revenge. And it happened to be an impressively immense chunk as well that was stopping her from desiring greater vengeance.
Against all the odds Piper couldn't shake off the long gone emotions for the reason they weren't anywhere close to be gone. Sometimes she busied herself with stealthily chancing eyes at her ex lover and going mad in her head for having no other thoughts than admiration and fondness – something Vause never deserved for all this shit she dragged Piper into. It must be all these years she hadn't seen Alex that made her that batshit crazy because, let's be honest, Piper is the one held accountable for creating that image that's now nearly impossible to delete from terabytes of her memory.
As for the moment, her psychological issues were nowhere near to be resolved, so is weakness when it came to raven head drug smuggler. Piper couldn't fight it even when she tried so hard she sometimes felt her own ears are about to bleed.
"Hey, Pipes."
Speaking of ears. That husky low voice reappears somewhere to her left and Piper growls a little bit on the inside, shoving all those stupid emotions somewhere deep down, so no light could touch and reveal her dark secret.
"Please go, I'm really not in the mood to go to max for assassinating another inmate right now." Piper spits out hearing her head throb.
"I wanna smack you and kiss you and fuck you and kill you after that." Her real self lured to shout out instead, so she had to work extra hard not to give her real thoughts away.
Alex disappears as quietly as she appeared and it's… just doesn't make Piper feel any better. Everything she could think of is Vause's scent still lingering behind with no owner in sight, her bare skin imprinted with ridiculous assemble of random ink visages, and that sexy raspy voice she wants to shut up with especially deep and unexpected kiss.
This all sounds crazy in Piper's head – well, because it's kind of is. And she wants nothing more but drag this infatuation of hers into bathroom stall and fuck senseless.
She left Alex in the first place. And then, drunk dialed her sitting on the floor in the lone company of toilet and crispy white which is a totally surreal scenario even for her taken they haven't spoken in like… 10 years?
It takes her 10 full minutes to get to the room stumbling upon every single wall and object unintentionally entertaining her inmates. When she is finally in, no one really pays her any mind letting her get up on her berth and silently wish she was dead.
Piper was the one to call her on the cellphone and, of course, Alex knows it as well as Piper does unless she had drowned her phone in the ocean before listening to Chapman's drunk monologue on the other end. Back then, Piper remained oblivious to the nearest future of wearing inmate's clothes to the grandeur of Vause's scumbag gist. A freaking echo of hello from the past. So, that left her also oblivious to the fact she neared the destiny to see Alex again as she experienced the coldness of tiles on her ass.
She craved seeing her, there was no other explanation for her late night extemporization which was clear to anyone with brain. Except, it was all just beautiful mirage in her head. Till now. The funny part is when Piper was pouring her soul out into senseless electronic device, Alex was busy with ratting her ex-girlfriend out. Or maybe she did it long ago, that's why she didn't pick up the phone on the first place?
And the ugliest of truths is that Piper happened to be extremely infuriated with the whole concept of being left looking like a love sick idiot and Alex getting back at her in the cruelest way possible.
It doesn't cancel out the fact she still has it bad for Vause. For that dirty bitch naming her upon a single mistake of carrying drug money at HER request. It's scary to imagine what would have happened if Piper did more than that. She'd probably rot here for the eternity which, once again, proved she made a right decision biding her adieu that day.
She does her best next few days avoiding her formal girlfriend, even though it's quite challenging taking they all are in locked relatively small space. She tries regardless. More out of shame - she doesn't want Alex to savor her triumph at Piper's expense. This smug smirk of hers is one main reason Chapman is eager to punch her in the face and take some of the teeth out along the way.
Larry visits her quite regularly, thanks God. She doesn't know how she would survive here without him. The bright side of extremely horrible situation, she can't focus on her feelings any longer constantly dreaming of food after the cafeteria incident. Sometimes, in the foggy state of dizziness, laying still in her bunk, she counts to ten to get rid of juicy pictures of burgers and steak. This is when her face pops up, those pale semi-full lips part out and she hears low timbre of edgy voice whispering shit she doesn't want her head to speculate with. But, when you give it a second thought, it's still better than food images. Although, similarly reeks of a great force of desperation.
Quizzing her brain endlessly figuring out the ways winning Red over, Piper feels she slowly dies trying to keep her gaze from wondering and actually "looking" versus passing out.
Nichols was nice enough to mention she wouldn't give Chapman any share of her commissary for her own safety and Piper appreciated the acknowledgement for her starting to feel invisible. Red and her back problems was one – and more she thought of it, more it became obvious – and the only loophole she could use to save herself.
She is sat at the table of the stupid diner she's not allowed to eat at, scheming her way out of the disaster she got herself into, periodically swallowing saliva and forcing herself to sit straight when a wrapped muffin appears.
She first blinks, thinking she's hallucinating, staring at the piece of provision like at the great treasure not knowing whether she has to thank Gods for Red suddenly crushing her mercy on her or rush into the councilor office beg for a prescription.
It takes her another second to unglue her crazy stare from said muffin and slowly drag it forward where few tables away Alex encircles Yoga Jones and plops down the chair somewhere in the further corner.
Self-righteousness burns Piper's throat instantly as she realizes whose doing is this. And as much as she wants nothing more but sink her teeth in partly soft pastry, she stands up, almost falling but still managing to keep her self-dignity intact, and dumps it in the trash. Fuck Alex and her fucking pity! She can go and toss herself in the garbage following Piper's example with her act of "kindness". She is done thinking of Vause or play victim in kitchen turning against her. It is time to do something about it and preferably fast if she ever plans on leaving Litchfield's premises alive.
Cayenne pepper is burning her throat greater than tears of humiliation and new curling iron she clumsily brushed over an earlobe back in Big Land. Hairdos never were her forte as freshly embedded marks reminded her of every attempt she made. With time, she learned to use potato peel and "Mederma" just to wait other month or two until new special occasion came around.
"How fucking awesome I'm thinking about luxury of using curling iron whilst grinding something that feels like a whole Khaleesi offspring with my own teeth just to rub in old Russian lady's arthritic spine for Borsch." I thought, hot tears rolling down my chin.
How on Earth did I make fool of myself the first day I got into orange robes? It's either my stupidity or big mouth, probably both, and I really should learn how to shut the fuck up.
I took my time to remember interaction with my soon-husband-to-be inhaling deeply. I still am oblivious to fact why I asked something I already knew my answer to. Probably, I just wanted to be sure before investing any more hatred in her. Heavens see, I'm so emotionally drained of being constantly mad, I wanna kill myself.
…And this fucking cayenne pepper tearing me apart like a bunch of five graders some bullshit CVS piñata.
I woke up at a crack of dawn as it usually happens in prison, and for the first time in what it seems like forever, didn't feel the urge to smash crap against the walls or commit a suicide. The feeling was fresh but short as I locked my eyes with my new bunkie Ms. Claudette and the urge returned in no time. In any case, walking up to sinks, I felt like a serious toughened criminal who fought and won her place under the cafeteria lamp through her own sweat and skill.
Piper Elizabeth Chapman. The real gangsta with an "a" at the end. Or "ER" for it got pretty close to be transferred to a different sort of public facility.
Waiting in line with a particularly weird happy face for standing in fungus infected bathroom, I suddenly made out Alex's frame occurring few heads ahead, and my smile fell.
She stood tall, indigo black silk hair falling in long tempting cascade down on her broad back. I doubt she saw me yet exchanging jokes with Big Boo – our very own prison dyke as harmful as Chihuahua on the leash.
I roll my eyes and try fully abandon myself to the memories of my very recent victory. The moment of Lorna bringing me tray was worth all the struggle. Ya, super-duper Chapman got through the full circle of hardcore gulag initiation, this story deserves to become new legend passing from old prisoners to newcomers… Ok, tune your fake laughter down, Alex, nobody cares of you sympathizing Hulk type of pussy now. Especially me. I don't give a damn who you end up cover your ass with to feel protected.
Line moves excruciatingly slow and I find myself more and more irritated by the whole interaction happening before my very eyes.
"He is not eggplant, he is retarded!" Boo shouts out and I can't help but squeeze a long irritated sigh of disbelief how Alex loud in her extremely annoying raspy laughter.
Seriously? What's next? A nice leap from vegetables to porn dogs and hot sauce? Oops, I did just say "porn dogs", did I? How wise smart of me. I'm a creative soul.
Alex throws her head back in laughter and briefly looks over the shoulder catching my displeased stare. I'm sure I look no better than that nasty nut hoarder of a squirrel with twitching simmering beneath my left eye.
It seems she actually did see me now for the first time which makes it much goddamn worse. I'd really like to think this whole show was thrown for my special audience.
As it appears, Vause really digs her path from lipstick blue – eyed lesbian beauty to something that I'm almost convinced has bigger dick than Burset and annual pass to Dodgers Stadium.
For a slight second we look at each other, her smile is still visible from the joke Boo delivered, and I notice my fingers involuntarily coil in fist. I try to keep my killer glare in place to portray all the disdain and hatred towards the ex lover and her sole existence, although, the mission is quite impossible as nervous tick has never gone, and, by all means, I know I resemble a psycho blonde at most, missing only high heels and 10 inch nails bedazzled with Swarovski prepared to fight.
Her smile slowly vanishes, she tries to nod her greetings but I solely ignore her endeavors, remaining still as rock. Psycho rock.
"Hey, Piper." She doesn't give up making sure to acknowledge my presence audibly.
"Hey." I unclench my jaw with a humongous effort almost chocking on my own breath. It mostly sounds like a yelp grumpy cat makes at an unfortunate soul dared to step on it's precious tail. Even I hate how my voice has turned.
"Pretty long line, huh? It's faster to get pizza delivery these days." She keeps it light and casual, dressing her impromptu with heartfelt grin.
"Ya, it's funny how life works. Just a minute ago you were a free ripe tomato proudly growing in the garden, and another – your intestines smashed and placed in the oven for enjoyment of others. Quick and senseless." I respond concentrating on keeping my voice as flat as possible.
Alex's features turn heartbroken at my angry remark and I sense a ping of pain. I always hated to be the reason for her sadness, she looked too vulnerable and innocent these moments which always got me.
"I'm sure tomatoes don't mind choosing between humans consumption and gone rotten in named garden." She somehow chuckles with her still crestfallen eyes.
That was our longest conversation in whole time since I discovered her presence in Litchfield.
At nights I found myself going back to it, retracing every moment step by step, asking silently why I am doing it over and over and over again…