A/N: Here we go again. This one is going to be pretty lengthy. I have like novel length outline planned. Shout-out to JotaJessie who has been popping up in my inbox with reviews and the like this evening :) Thanks for that!
XOXOXO
Nicky lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling trying to shuffle her thoughts into a pattern that would make enough sense that they would quiet down. She couldn't sleep while they were clattering around in her head. Tomorrow she would be leaving Litchfield—off to face a world that was no longer one she understood.
No one told her that release from her incarceration could be such a scary thing. She had always wanted to regain her freedom, but now that her escape was so close she was starting to realize how good prison had been for her. Not the way that society expected. She didn't need reforming—she needed help. So many of them did.
The outside world gave them bars—a cage used to protect the righteous from the sinners—that should have made them feel trapped and afraid, but Nicky knew better than that. The very bars that kept them in this fishbowl of existence created a world that she understood how to navigate-a world that had become her sanctuary.
Prison had given Nicky stability that money never had. She had never been without a place to stay, or food to eat, or any other tangible things that many of the other inmates had survived without. Her struggles hardly seemed as impressive when you looked at them side by side, but they were her struggles, and they were real.
Nicky had grown up without the love of her mother, without a sense of self-worth, without a sense of who she was at all. In prison, Nicky learned to care about herself. It was an emotional stability she had never known before, and prison would have been the last place she expected to find answers. Somehow, from her earliest days at Litchfield, she figured out that it was okay to let people in.
It was an environment that was solid, with routines and rules that groomed her into the person she was now. It was the people that she learned from—not the prison itself. Prison was just a building, but the situations and relationships that formed within its walls were something that drew them together in a way that the chaos of the outside world didn't offer.
She had gained all that at Litchfield and more. Nicky had learned how to let people love her, and those people had turned out to be the real thing. She couldn't explain it. Coming into prison, she had been terrified. She liked to talk tough and posture with a confidence that wasn't something she really had. She had never expected that mask to be snatched away within the first few days, but it had. All it took was one woman who told her it was time to cut out all the bullshit.
Inside, Nicky had a secure sense of who she was in prison and that had been a safety she'd never had the luxury of experiencing. Now, thinking about where she was headed—her freedom—she had begun to panic in a way that she hadn't felt since before her incarceration. Why did leaving feel so much harder?
Meeting with Marka and her lawyer before her court date had only made things worse. She had been pretty sober for the meeting, but that hadn't lasted long. Nicky knew she was throwing blame around for her own transgressions, but Marka was far from innocent.
Nicky did have a problem, and it was something that she needed help for. She had tried countless times at the hospitals and facilities that Marka had sent her to, but when the first two only seemed to keep her clean for a few months, Marka had given up. Apparently, WASPs didn't play baseball either.
Drugs weren't the only problem Nicky had experienced in her lifetime that Marka threw money at. Her childhood had been a montage paid companions, schools, and classes, and therapists. Her own existence might have been the biggest hurdle of all.
As far back as Nicky could remember, Marka had never once acted like a mother. Hell, she had never acted like she wanted a daughter either—especially not one like Nicky. Instead of trying to adapt to Nicky's presence in her life, she had paid any and everyone that she could to carry the burden of an unwanted child.
Money was her go to—just like drugs had been Nicky's. The only difference was that Nicky's mistakes were illegal and rooted in her attempts to forget about that rejection. Marka's were merely neglectful. They were just mentally damaging to the people around her and selfish in nature.
XOXOXO
Nicky wouldn't dare let Marka see how afraid she was, so she focused on the anger and took off. It hadn't taken long to get her hands on some gear. She had been clean for weeks. A month in rehab to try and get her sentence reduced would do that to you. That would change shortly. If she was going to prison, she might as well make the most of the time she had left. One final binge to sate her until she could get her hands on more.
Not being completely irresponsible, she did head back to Marka's—always Marka's never home. She was supposed to go to court the next day and didn't need them coming after her because she didn't make it. She was reckless, but she wasn't an idiot.
Nicky fumbled with her keys but eventually got the front door open. She hadn't expected it, but Marka was there waiting for her. Nicky figured that it had more to do with signing for Nicky's bond than actual concern. God forbid Nicky create another smudge of a scandal in her life. Taking off her coat and tossing it over the back of a chair, Nicky could feel Marka's eyes boring into her.
"If you have something to say Marka, just say it. Otherwise cut the crap and leave me alone," Nicky snapped, not in the mood for games. She knew how she wanted her night to play out and Marka wasn't a part of that.
Not bothering to respond to any of Nicky's words, Marka sighed in annoyance and spent a moment studying her daughter as though she were a total stranger and not someone who had been in her life for more than two decades. Marka saw the small brown bag in Nicky's hand and looked at her suspiciously.
It was a new sort of awareness that Marka had never seemed capable of before. Nicky wasn't sure if her mother lived in denial or was really just that stupid—there had been so many times that Nicky had been stoned around her, and yet, Marka hadn't even seemed to notice.
As the realization hit her that Nicky had gone out to get drugs, Marka walked away. Without so much as a word she went into her bedroom and closed the door. There was nothing she wanted to say to Nicky, and that had been just fine with her.
Nicky had gone straight to the kitchen to wash her hands. She grabbed a spoon and a bottle of water, then returned to the living room and sat down on the couch. She pulled the lighter out of her Doc Marten's and dumped the contents of the brown bag onto the coffee table. With enough annoyance and anger to fuel her determination, Nicky bent the handle of the spoon.
Her leg bounced in anticipation as she lined up each item on the table with reverence. Unlike her mother, this was something she could respect. It had always been there for her. Nicky ripped the package of syringes open with her teeth and pulled one out. Setting it alongside the other supplies.
It was the only thing in her life that had ever truly made her feel like her life wasn't a waste. On heroin, the world didn't seem like such a miserable place. It was still pretty shitty, but all of her problems seemed less terrible.
In mere seconds, heroin convinced her that life was survivable—that there was a place for her. She had spent most of her life feeling like a burden or misplaced baggage. She had never belonged. Heroin felt like home.
With ritualistic movements, Nicky added a bit of the white powder onto the spoon. She used the cap from the water bottle to add just a bit of liquid to the dusty substance. It was all methodical until she started cooking it.
That was the part she loved—seeing the two substances merge and boil into existence. She sat there for a moment and just watched it as it bubbled. She was wasting it, sure, but in a way, that felt right. Like she was sacrificing just a bit in worship of some ancient deity who would continue to provide her with sweet relief. Liquid salvation.
Setting the spoon back on the table, Nicky pulled off a small piece of a cotton ball, rolled it up into a pea sized clump, and set it on the spoon. She pulled the needle cap off with her teeth—you weren't supposed to do that, but it was all part of her method. She felt superstitious about changing anything now, even if she knew better.
Her hands began to shake in anticipation, and she had to take a few deep breaths to try and steady them. It was equal parts pain and pleasure taking her time. She was desperate for the release, but putting it off for even a few seconds would make it that much more intense.
Maybe she could get her hands on some in prison, that didn't seem unlikely, but it wouldn't be the same. Here she could take her time and enjoy the process. Prison would probably be a hasty and cautious experience. She wanted to solidify this moment to memory.
Nicky placed the tip of the needle into the piece of cotton and pulled the plunger. She smiled as she watched the liquid flow up into the syringe. Depressing the plunger just the tiniest bit she made sure there was no air. Even in her mother's house, headed to prison, with street drugs that could one day kill her, Nicky looked like a kid on Christmas morning.
She tore open two alcohol swabs, leaving one sitting on top of the wrapper. The other she used on the head of the needle. You could never be too careful. She placed the syringe on the table so that the needle lay on top of the swab while she finished getting ready.
Digging into her bag, she found her headphones. Holding the earbuds against her arm, she wrapped the cord around twice and held the plug between her teeth. She wiggled her fingers and then pumped her hand a few times.
She was ready.
Using the alcohol wipe, she swiped it across the patch of skin she would be using. Nicky inhaled sharply before pressing the point of the needle against her vein. The prick of pain that followed seemed to draw forth a melancholy void that she didn't want to deal with. Tomorrow everything that she knew would be different.
She pulled back the plunger just enough to watch her blood swirl its way into the syringe—mating with the drugs inside. Nicky took a shaky breath and opened her teeth, letting the headphones loosen. As she depressed the plunger, she felt a rush of tingling nerve sensations up her arm. It rippled its way to her chest and then exploded that same pleasurable sensation all over her body. Bliss.
She breathed out a sigh of relief and untangled the headphones from her arm, tossing them onto the table once she was finished. Leaning back, she melted into the couch and just enjoyed the relief of her troubles.
She didn't need to worry about surviving prison, or about being enough for Marka, or not having a purpose in the world. Most importantly, she didn't need to worry about how hard she must be to love. All her fears were overshadowed by the pure relief she had just injected.
That moment was enough for her. That moment was empty of worry and doubt and filled with silent promises of just letting everything be. If you left it alone long enough things would figure their own way out. Or—they wouldn't. Even that left her with a sort of resolved sense of peace.
XOXOXO
"Nicole," Marka said, snapping her fingers in Nicky's face. "You need to get ready. Margaux will be here to make breakfast in an hour, and then we have to go get my hair done for the luncheon this afternoon."
Nicky nodded. Marka may have thought she was still messed up from the drugs, but the truth was she was practically paralyzed with fear. Getting up from the couch seemed like the scariest thing in her world at that point.
Part of her wished that when her mother had woken up and headed into the kitchen, she would have found Nicky dead. At least it would be over. That had to be better than this. It would be a pretty sweet revenge on Marka too—if it even phased her.
"Yeah, I'm coming. I'm just gonna …." she trailed off and nodded towards the drugs in front of her. "Might as well go out with a bang."
Marka just rolled her eyes and walked away. Calling over her shoulder, she said, "You have ten minutes before the car is supposed to be here." She went to the kitchen and stayed there until it was time for them to leave.
"Well I guess you don't want to join me then," Nicky said, as she sat up and prepared one more dose before she left. In the harsh light of day and under the weight of Marka's disinterest, Nicky's ritualistic actions became rushed and shallow. It didn't matter - she'd made her peace the night before. This was just a final fuck off to Marka and an attempt to get through the day.
The car ride had been mostly silent, but once they had finished Marka's many errands and reached the courthouse, Marka had started in on her. It was humorous to Nicky that she couldn't care less if she was actually high, but was concerned about how it made Nicky appear.
"Oh Nicole, do try to manage to at least look like you're mildly concerned about this. For goodness sakes, you're going to prison. This is serious," Marka said, with a huff of exasperation.
Nicky stopped in her tracks and just looked at her aghast. "Suddenly now you want to talk serious? You knew exactly what I was doing this morning and didn't have a single fucking word to say." Her voice was rising in volume, and Marka looked around the lobby nervously. "You don't care about what happens or what I am doing. Now that you have an audience, though—here comes all the motherly concern?"
Without waiting for a response, Nicky headed over to the metal detector and stepped through. Marka stood silently for a moment, before following after her. She didn't have a response to anything Nicky had just said.
Once Marka had caught up to her, she had managed to string a few words together that at least made her feel better. "Nicole, of course, I care. I just don't have any fight left in me. We have been battling this for years, and I just can't do it any longer."
"We?! We, Marka? What exactly have you battled? The stressful act of filling out check after check? The tiring trials of the physical strain detox takes on your body? The daily battle against your own urges and cravings? Or maybe it was just me. You've had to battle with having a daughter, who was such a disappointment that you didn't even bother to raise her."
Jasper, Marka's lawyer, joined them. "Good afternoon," he greeted, trying to break the tension. Marka paid well, but most often the woman was more trouble than she was worth. Still, she had sent plenty of business his way—her own and her circle of friends. He couldn't afford to make an enemy of her.
Ignoring the fidgety man next to her, Marka lashed back. "If you think that being your mother has been easy you are sadly mistaken. Maybe I wasn't as big a part of your life as you would have liked—but that's just the way things are. It happened. It's over. Honestly Nicole, you act like the world owes you something."
"Not the world Marka, just you," Nicky said, voice crumbling in defeat. "You weren't a part of my life at all." Nicky bit the inside of her cheek, willing herself not to cry. She would not break down in front of this woman—not now, not like this. A crying defeated mess was not what she wanted Marka to remember. Her gaze hardened and she squared off her shoulders in preparation for Marka's next attack.
Marka shook her head and looked away. "Nicole, whatever mistakes I may have made in your eyes are my own business. Your demons are yours. Ever since you were little, you've been contrary and reckless. You never lived up to your potential, and all you've done is drain the people around you. You are not very easy to love, but I always tried—it just never seemed to be enough."
Huffing out a sound of disbelief, Nicky just shook her head. "Well look at it this way, I'm not your problem any longer." She didn't want to care what Marka thought. She shouldn't, but that didn't change the fact that her words stung. Nicky's sense of self wasn't enough to brush them off either. Her life had always been bounced between trying to please Marka and trying to block her out.
Marka rolled her eyes. She didn't feel the need to defend her words or argue with what Nicky was saying. In her mind, this was just another incident that would blow over in time. "I just hope that you can learn from this. Unless you change your ways and fix that attitude of yours, you will bring down everyone who ever tries to help you. I pray that for their sakes that you manage to grow up."
"Ladies, I do think we should head inside. It would look rather crass if we were late, and it surely wouldn't help Nicole's situation any," Jasper said, trying to diffuse the situation. Only a little longer and this would be over, he kept reminding himself.
Marka stiffened and stood up a little straighter. "Yes, you're right of course. Nicole, you should get going. Maybe you'll do a little bit better if you manage to keep your mouth shut." She turned to address Jasper, "I'll see you this afternoon at your office. We can take care of any loose ends there."
"You're not staying?" Nicky asked in surprise. She wasn't delusional, she didn't for a minute think Marka would stay for her. A small part of her had wanted her to, if for no other reason than to witness exactly how serious this was. She had never taken Nicky's addiction seriously or been a part of the many attempts of recovery. What was really unbelievable was the spotlight of the suffering mother that Marka was giving up.
"Of course not. I told you I had a luncheon to go to. Jasper will let me know how everything turns out." She readjusted her purse and pulled her sunglass back onto her face. She nodded to Jasper and bid him goodbye.
"You are un-fucking-believable. Nothing has changed. No matter what kind of pretty wrapping you use to mask yourself in, it doesn't change what you really are. You were a shitty mother, and you're an even shittier human being. Have a nice life Marka. You might want to start doing things for anyone other than yourself. Karma can be a real bitch."
Marka was gone without so much as another look. She had disengaged, and as far as Nicky went, she shoved any thoughts to the back of her mind and moved on to the next item on her list for the day.
XOXOXO
Nicky remembered it clearly, more clearly than she would have liked. It had been a horrific day, and Marka's words still haunted her. They had been fairly easy to push to the back of her mind while she was in prison. Here she had felt like she had been rescued. Right from the start, Red was there and had been ever since.
Nicky couldn't help but wonder if there was any truth to what Marka had said. Prison was such a controlled environment. Your very survival and sanity were based on adapting to those around you. Was that what had happened? Was she less damaging to people because everything was so controlled?
Her chest ached at the thought of Red. She had been a mess when the older woman had been released. The distance between them had only increased her anxiety. Red had always been able to ease her fears with something as small as a look or a few soft words. Without that, Nicky imagined the worst things possible.
Had Red only cared about her because it was something to pass the time? Was she just a project to keep busy with? Nicky didn't want to think it could be true, but now that she didn't have Red here to reassure her, she didn't trust her own thoughts or feelings about any of it.
She would be released the next day, and that thought terrified her in a way that only coming into prison had ever managed. If nothing else, being Marka's daughter had taught Nicky that she could survive nearly anything.
Her plan upon release had been simple. It was the typical post-prison plan: parole officer, job, home. She would do it on her own. Just because she was leaving prison a different person did not mean that she would ever accept Marka back into her life. That door was closed for good.
She wouldn't have Marka, but she might have Red. That would be more than enough for her—more than she deserved. Did Red deserve that? Nicky didn't know the answer to that anymore.
Red had always claimed her as her own, but Nicky wasn't the same person on the outside. She was reckless, irresponsible, and disappointing. It hadn't just been Marka that she disappointed. Nicky had never kept any successful relationships, sexual or platonic.
That was it, the solution to quieting her thoughts, that had been keeping her awake. She had to do this on her own. Nicky wanted to be different, but she knew that was something only she could make happen. There wasn't even a guarantee that she could manage it. Maybe she'd end up like Taystee and be back in just a month or two. Maybe she'd cave into drugs and end up killing herself. The possibilities were endless.
She didn't know what would happen, but she couldn't bring Red into her life until she was sure that she could take care of herself, and do something with her life other than just get by.
With that decided, Nicky felt herself finally start to wind down. It had been mentally exhausting carrying all those thoughts around with her, but know she knew what she was going to do. She hadn't thought she would sleep at all that last night, but as her mind settled, she found herself finally drifting off.