They Call it a Second Chance
NIGHT from a railroad car window is a great, dark, soft thing broken across with slashes of light
1. Intro
It's the howling of the train whistle and the clatter of the wheels against the track that threaten to make my head explode. Three hours on a train and my destination is nowhere.
Who would be surprised though? There was never an expectation. Before I was a thought, before I was an oops, before I was just another tick to mangle the reputation of a family that never was, I was nothing. I was a nothing destined to go nowhere other than where this train was taking me against my will. The shackles around my feet made that very clear.
At this point the scars from the binds on my hands and legs can say more about me in five minutes than my lips ever could. Luckily I'm the strong silent type.
The wheels come to a screeching halt. It couldn't be soon enough. The roaring of the engines is replaced with the throbbing in my head. I pierce my eyes shut for a moment in hope of relief. As the world outside dims I am trapped in my own head, and it's no less horrific than what awaits me. Luckily what's in my head are just memories. No matter how many times they play over and over in my mind I will never have to look them in the face again. At least there's some consolation in that.
I have lived behind the confines of iron bars longer than I care to acknowledge. Somewhere along the way, I have no idea where, I think I began to find them preferable. I always knew what to expect. They kept me in and kept everyone else out. Nobody could hurt me, and I wouldn't hurt anyone, unless they deserved it.
"Lopez!" I feel a rough hand grab my shoulder and drag me from my seat, breaking me out of my reverie. I flinch at the touch, so harsh and uncaring.
I am pulled to my feet and led into the frigid cold, clad in a blue sweat suit. The first thing that I register is the friction between my feet and the ground. A crunch. My steps are labored as I trudge along and my feet catch a chill. Snow. I have to keep my head tucked into my chest to avoid the whip and burn of the frosty air. It's only when I hear the guard growl out "we're here" that I lift my head.
For the first time in years I may be able to say that I'm surprised. The outside of the building looks rather
ordinary in comparison to the huge state juvenile correction facilities that I had frequented in the past. The fences are lower than I am used to, and the backdrop in calm and still. It was supposed to be a transitional housing option for delinquents on the wrong side of the law, who are aging out of the system. I, like every girl behind these walls am going to be released on my eighteenth birthday.
Three months to go.
The routine of being processed into the system is no less humiliating than any other time. No less invasive. I have to open my mouth and eyes to have bright lights shined into them, I have to go pee in a cup to make sure that I am clean. I have to strip down to nothing and submit myself to a full cavity search... Like I said no less humiliating or invasive than any other time.
After my booking the journey to my destination was filled with long cold corridors and steep flights of stairs all bitten by cold, and made more gruesome by the slight whimpers that can be heard along the way. The cells are not enclosed by bars as I have been used to. They all have doors, which is both comforting and disconcerting.
I revel in the thought of having privacy, if even just for a second. On that same note is scares me. You can't see through doors. Doors hide secrets, and you never know what's going on on the other side.
...
"Alright Lopez" The guard says as she grips my arm. It's really the most human contact that I've had in months, short of fist connecting to face. "You're gonna be in room 367, roommate Fabray."
Fabray. I take a mental note for any complaints that would sure be lodged with, or about each other. I stand dumbfounded In front of the door, unsure of what to expect as the guard reaches for her keys. Moments feel like days as the lock turns. I am certain that I will be roomed with yet another gang banger who keeps a homemade shank under their pillow.
I brace myself for the worst because it has never crossed my mind to hope for the best.
"Sleep tight." The guard says as at long last she pulls the door open. I take a step inside as the. The door is slammed behind me and the keys turn locking me into my fate. At least for the next three months.
My eyes dart up as I suddenly realize I'm alone at the mercy of whatever psychopath they willed to pair me with this time. That's when my eyes meet a brilliant hazel. More soft than I would have expected to see in a place like this. And my surprise didn't stop girl was small and pale with flowing straw colored hair that looks like it has been kissed by the sun. He lips are full and fixed in a smirk as her eyebrow cocks itself toward me.
She is tucked in the corner of her bed clad only in a wife beater and the designated orange pants, despite the cold. One hand is resting on the book in her lap, and the other rests lazily on her stomach on what appears to be a small baby bump.
"Hey" a raspy voice billows out to me, which surprises me as much as the rest of her.
"H- hey." I stammer trying to keep my cool.
"You got a name?" She asks me with a devilish grin as her head lulls casually to the side.
"Santana, you." I feel my heart rock against my chest, threatening on beating out.
"Quinn. My name is Quinn."
Hi! So yeah that started out a little bleak, but it won't all be so angsty. Most of this story is actually written, this is just the short intro. Let me know what you think! I'll have the next chapter up soon. :)