A/N: So, I've been watching a crap ton of shows like 'Locked Up Abroad' and 'Beyond Scared Straight', and I also read a John x Dave fic where Dave was subjected to community service after burning down his school gym and doing drugs, so they all inspired this fanfic. It would've been up earlier, but I lost like 2 hours because I couldn't find the notebook I wrote it in.
Your name was Dave Strider. And you had just royally fucked up. Again. When you were younger, you were repeatedly sent to juvenile detention for drugs, theft, violence, vandalism, underage drinking, etc. Your sister, Rose, had even called the cops on you for threatening her once. But that was then. Back in juvi, there were delinquents who had done the same things as you. But when you got arrested for having drugs and hotwiring the neighbors' car shortly after your eighteenth birthday, you knew you were in deep shit. You were sent to the Skaia Correctional Facility on charges of larson and posession.
Your first few days in prison were a living hell. The guard took your shades making you feel very uncomfortable around the other inmates. After three days, you began settling in. As much as one can settle in in prison. You had been in SCF for around a week when a tall guy sporting clown makeup backed you up against the cold, white brick wall.
"What are your motherfucking charges?" He spoke in a raspy voice. You had seen from prison shows that inmates did not like rapists and pedophiles.
"Drugs...and car theft." You spoke quickly, avoiding all eye contact with this guy. Eye contact meant death, and you had learned that from your brothers, who were both in the Alpha gang.
"I mother fucking see. I killed my friends." Your eyes widened at how nochalantly he said that.
"Gamzee Makara." He outstretched his hand. You took it, shaking lightly.
"Dave...Dave Strider." You were about to ask him his age when the warden's voice over the intercom interuppted you.
"Dave Strider, you have visitors. Dave Strider to the visitation room."
"Sorry, bro. See you around." You waved before turning on your heels and sticking your hands in the pockets of your obnoxiously bright orange pants.
When you arrived in the visitation room, a guard led you over to a window where you could see your mom, Rose, and your best friends, John and Jade. Your brother, Dirk was in solitary confinement for the murder of a young boy, to get revenge on the gang leader who killed your other brother. Your mother, for once, was sober. Every time you got into trouble, she would drink her sorrows away. Her black lips were pulled in a tight line, and she looked thouroughly disappointed.
"Dave, do you like it here?"
"No, mom."
"Then when you get out next year, you won't do it again, right?"
"No, mom. I promise. But you have to stop drinking, okay?"
"I've tried, but it hurts me to see my children on the other side of this glass. You, Dirk, your brother..." Your mother was now visibly fighting back tears. You remember as a child, coming to visit Dirk. Everytime, your mother would burst into tears, and you would try to console her while Rose would chew Dirk out.
"You're a real jerk, Dirk. You aren't my brother anymore." Rose would attack Dirk with words.
"I know, Rose, I know. I'm really, really, sorry."
"Making mommy cry, that's a very unbro thing to do." You would always say, taking the phone from Rose.
Tears began rolling down your mother's perfectly makeup-ed cheeks, before she burst into a full-out bawling session.
"Mom, I-I'm really sorry..."
"Dave, you're the exact same as Dirk. You're a real asshole." You felt a tang in your chest as Rose led your mother away. Was this how Dirk felt when Rose beat him down? You were snapped out of your thoughts when Jade sat down.
"Dave..."
"Look, Jade, I'm real sorry. Really, I am." Your white, prison-assigned shoes suddenly became extremely interesting.
"Dave, look at me. I know you're sorry, but what you did was wrong, and now you're paying for it. All I want you to know is that we all forgive you. Even Rose." Jade handed the phone to John.
"H-Hey, bro." You spoke quietly, cracking a weak smile.
"Hey, Dave! It's so weird seeing you like this! Orange is definitely not your color!" John laughed, snapping his finger and swaying like a fashion diva. You and John chatted for a few minutes before Jade came back to tell John they were leaving. Before turning on the heels of her sparkly red shoes, she picked up the phone.
"Dave, I'm supposed to tell you how Roxy's doing." Your breathing stopped. Your alcoholic sister had been in rehab for quite some time.
"Oh yeah? How is she?"
"She hasn't had a drop since she heard you were put in prison. She's sobering up for you, Dave." With that, Jade hung up the phone and turned, red Dorothy shoes clicking away. You started to walk back to the common area, but not before stopping to talk to the guard.
"Sir, would it be possible to see an inmate in solitary?" The guard looked down at the name on your shirt.
"Strider, huh? I think I know who you want. Follow me."