Iron Bars and Orange Jumpsuits – Kate's POV

Prison wasn't so bad. At least, not as bad as society made out. It was boring, sure, but not unpleasant or uncomfortable in any way. She often mused that by the time she got out she'd hate the colour orange, the ridiculous jumpsuits they wore reason enough to hate it for life. And she'd grown frustrated with the iron bars that covered her window, knowing that they blocked her escape; blocked her from seeing her baby.

They'd trialled her immediately, within two weeks of her capture. Compared to the rest of the criminals waiting to go to court, she was royalty. They'd waited for her for so long, they wanted to get her behind bars before she even thought of running away again – not that that was possible.

The trial had been horrible, having to relive every moment of her life with Wayne in front of a sea of cold, unfeeling faces. Even when she was on the verge of tears she could see they felt nothing.

It was only when she talked about the rapes that she saw a few strong faces falter. They only felt for her when she told them how every afternoon - when she was still in her school uniform and her mum was at work - he came home and shoved her down on his bed, one dirty hand clamped tight around her mouth and the other up her skirt. And then the threats – he said he'd kill her if she ever told, all the while his leering face on top of hers; his old, hard body pressed against hers.

Every day; every day for four years until she turned eighteen and ran away.

But she was twenty-four when she killed him. And they wanted to know why.

FLASHBACK

She was standing on their familiar doorstep for the first time in years. Six years in fact – it was hard to believe it had been so long. All those years ago, she swore that she'd never return; and yet here she was. But she wanted to see her mother again, even briefly, before she ran away again.

Her mum wasn't home. Her car was missing from the driveway, but a light was on in the TV room. That could only mean Wayne.

She opened the door, and stepped inside. The house hadn't changed a bit, and she was surprised to find comfort in being home at long last.

He was asleep on the couch. There were a few beer bottles lying beside him, and the old TV flickered.

It was easier to run upstairs and throw herself on her old bed, screaming and crying into her pillow than stay there, with Wayne, for one more second. Even in sleep he terrified her, the same old face still menacing, those same hands still threatening.

She locked herself in the kitchen all day. When her mother came home late that night, she wanted to surprise her. So she was cooking, and generally just lingering, out of fear of going anywhere near Wayne. She was relieved when she heard the door slam around five, and then the growl of his truck starting up. So he'd be gone tonight – good.

But her mum still wasn't home by eight that night. She went out and sat on the porch, playing with a Zippo lighter and waiting for the car to pull into the drive. It was Wayne though, not her mum who pulled up in front of the house later.

He stumbled out of the car, drunk, and Kate was surprised to find her fear gone. Wayne wasn't anyone to be afraid of – he was just a drunk old man. He suddenly looked so frail, so helpless and so out-of-it that she helped him inside, and up to his bedroom. But even with this new found confidence she couldn't help but tremble at being in this room, with him, again.

He collapsed on the bed, basically already asleep, and she took off his shoes and socks.

"You're beautiful" he whispered. She just ignored him, refusing to let his familiar words affect her. That was what he used to say to her, over and over again, in her ear, until it fell into a rhythm with the squeak of the bed-springs and the flushes of pain in her body.

"Aren't you going to take my pants off first?"

Again she ignored him, wanting nothing more than to run out of this room, out of the house, and away…

He suddenly grabbed her arm.

"You are beautiful"

That same malicious look glinted in his eyes. She jerked her arm back, knowing exactly what he wanted, knowing exactly what he'd do if she didn't run away again.

"Good-night Wayne."

She ran downstairs and was about to fling open the front door when she realised something. Gas – the whole house smelled of gas. She must have left the cooker on while she was outside, unaware that the cooker hadn't been lit.

The zippo lighter in her hand, the smell of gas in her nose, Wayne upstairs…an idea suddenly sprang on her. Revenge – finally. A way to protect her mum, a way to give him exactly what he deserved for what he did to her, what he still might be doing to other girls. He didn't deserve to live; and she deserved to kill him…

She couldn't help but hesitate when she jumped on her motorbike – maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But she was all too aware that time was running out and she was not in the position to change her mind. The bike started up, and she was off, running away again before anyone ever knew she'd been there…

But this time, her departure was proclaimed with a big bang.

END OF FLASHBACK

They'd only given her a year, in the end, her charge not being murder but manslaughter on account of extreme provocation and anger. And then they'd taken six months off, because of the time spent on the island – which was, in effect, a prison – and because of her child, who needed her every bit as much as she needed him.

After the trial, she'd begged them to tell her where Tom was. And eventually, after much pleading, they'd told her; he was with his father.

I know that Kate's sentence isn't exactly realistic, but I needed her to be able to get out soon so that she can come back to Jack and Tom. And yes, Tom is with Jack. I'll go into that in the next chapter, and I promise – the next chapter is the LAST angsty chapter!!! After that she's getting out of prison and going home to Jack and Tom, which means… JATE!!! And if I get a lot of reviews… Jex! Hehe, so get reviewing!!! Thank-you!!!