This story was inspired by "The Unravelling of the Mind and the Shattering of a Broken Heart" which Verarose19 wrote, and by When-A-Sprite-Meets-Unicorn who adores Blanciablo, Blanca and Diablo. It's focused on Blanca, and will come back to her important moments during the series. Normally, each chapter will correspond to a season. I will continue to update my other stories, of course.
Chapter 1 The bathroom
Blanca glances at the room around her: the damp-stained walls, the grayish ground. She closes the thin PVC door. There is no key. On tiptoe, she peers through the slit under the ceiling. She sees them, a long line of women, waiting patiently, for a lukewarm shower.
The room is quiet, however. She hears the sound of water flowing through the pipes, the soft murmur of some conversations. It is only at these moments that she hears the tranquillity at Litchfield, just before taking the phone out of its hiding place. The rest of the time, she's too sad.
She kneels, without touching the ground, slips her hand behind the brick. Its there. She holds it firmly, puts it in her pocket. She gets up, takes a look in the bathroom. Everything is calm.
She calls him. He picks up after three rings. She pronounces his name, he pronounces hers. His voice is sweet, happy. She asks him what he's doing? He replies that he was expecting her. He tells her that he would like to have her in his arms, to stroke her. She puts her hand between her legs, goes up. She tells him that she would like to put her hand on his crotch.
Outside, she hears the loud voice of a girl telling another to respect the line. Then she recognizes Red's Russian accent. She doesn't want sex anymore.
She asks Diablo if he's coming this weekend. And, he replies that he can't, that he has to work on a building site, something that pays well. She won't let him finish. She screams, she tells him he's driving her crazy. A girl opens the door. Blanca goes "boo." She is scared. She leaves.
Blanca slams the door. For a moment, she sees herself with the eyes of the girl. She knows she is scary, to the point that she avoids her own reflection in the mirror. The next minute, she doesn't care. She knows brushing her hair or plucking her eyebrows won't give her back her life.
XXX
Yesterday they argued again. It is thanks to the moments spent with Diablo that she supports this place, the absurdity of the situation. When she is in the visitation room with him, or sends him pictures of herself with this phone, she forgets the empty days, and that she is losing two years of her life.
Yet, when they talk to each other, their conversations are not like the ones before. She is angry, and whatever he says is never what she would like to hear. She wonders if he will stay, if he will wait for her. By having this attitude, she will know it quickly.
She smiles in the silent bathroom, thinking of the picture she's about to send. She's going to do something with one of her fingers, several of her fingers, maybe.
She listens to the silence, delighted, because the bathroom is empty. She kneels down, grabs the phone behind the brick. But the phone is not there. The stone is cold.
A few seconds of silence, then she screams. She hears her own voice, strong, disembodied.
She gets up to go out. The door is there in his hand. It is no longer of any use. Blanca grabs her, shakes her, kicks her. She no longer thinks of anything, even if she knows. She knows she can't survive without this phone. The hinges give way. She calls Diablo. She forgets that he isn't there. She hears voices.
She hears Gloria, Gloria swearing, looking at her. There is a guard. Blanca hears pity in her voice. She knows this is not a good thing.