Claire
Contamination. This will show them. They think they can pull this shit and get away with it? They're dead wrong.
The potion fell into the open pot full of food that was being refrigerated for tomorrow's meals. He was instructed that a single drop would do the trick. But he had more in mind, as the vile was emptied of the green liquid. A large metallic spoon which laid beside the silver pot was lifted up and inserted into the soup and quickly started stirring it all together, mixing the potion with the vegetables and broth. Once done, the spoon was lifted out from the pot, and placed back where it was found. The lid was put back on the pot as the thin glass vile was picked up and inserted into a pocket. The light went off as the refrigerator door was shut, the stew awaiting its purpose.
Faith ran her hand over her black tattoo while she laid on her bed inside of her prison cell. Her white tank top was a little black and dirty from the day's work. Faith was on the top bunk, as she turned onto her side and looked out beyond the prison bars. Across from her cell was another cell. She didn't really focus on it, or realize she was looking at it. She started to think about Richard.
Richard Wilkins III. Mayor of Sunnydale. Faith remembered how good he was to her, even if he was hell bent on destroying the world. He was a good person deep down inside. How many times did she want to call him dad, instead of boss? Probably a million. Even though she never verbally said it, she loved him. Not in a romantic way. No, this love was one a father and daughter would share.
Faith sighed as she sat up on her bunk and looked out the tiny, barred window in the cell. It was night, and the stars looked more beautiful than ever. Faith looked out the hole in the wall every night, but it seemed when she did, it was the first time she had seen the stars. Faith had been in prison for five years now. And each time she thought about leaving, she remembered the innocent man she killed.
Deputy Mayor Allan Finch.
Allan wasn't exactly innocent, working for Rich. That was her own private nickname for her 'dad,' Rich.
Just because he wasn't innocent, doesn't take away the fact that she killed him and didn't give a damn. Faith almost couldn't breathe for a moment. She had been holding back tears. Faith tried not to cry, as she always did previous nights, but it was no use. A loud gasp escaped her mouth, and she inhaled the air and tears fell from her eyes. Why did she remind herself of her old life? Every night? Why did she remind herself about Rich, and her freedom. And especially, why did she remind herself of Buffy?
In a twisted way, Buffy was her older sister. They always fought. Literally. But, deep down, Faith knew that B cared for her. And Faith had hid it so well, but, she also cared about Buff. She was just looking out for herself more, when she should have listened to B.
Buffy stood in the corner of the prison cell, like she had always been there.
"Faith, you don't get it. You killed a man," the same words B had said almost six years ago echoed throughout the cell and in Faith's head.
Faith turned to Buffy, or what her self conscious perceived to be Buffy.
'No, you don't get it. I don't care!" Faith screamed.
The moment replayed in her head constantly, so, it was natural for Faith to say that she didn't care. But then, her hardened face turned soft and sad.
"No…wait…B.. I don't mean that…" she pleaded as Buffy backed up into the dark corner of the cell she came from and disappeared. Faith sighed and more tears came. She buried her head in her hands and entangled her fingers through her long brown hair. She sniffed and her hands became wet, while she whimpered.
Suddenly, a hand came up on Faith's shoulder. Faith, automatically, brought her head up and punched her opponent in the face, sending them flying back against the cell bars. Once they hit the bars, they slid to the floor onto their butt. Faith then realized who it was.
"Ah shit. Claire…" Faith replied, sorrow in her voice.
Claire Kasper held her short raven covered head with one hand, her hand supporting the aching pain in her back. She sighed, in pain as Faith jumped down off of the bunk, landing on her feet, and walking over towards her. Claire looked up at Faith, confusion in her eyes, and fear. Claire knew why Faith was in prison, and she knew it would be better to be friends with Faith than enemies.
Faith kneeled down next to Claire, placing her hand on cold face.
"Sorry, kid…" Faith said, offering a smile.
"It's alright, Faith. It's my fault really. I just wanted to see if you were okay," Claire responded. She had heard Faith's crying and shouting to someone unknown to her. Claire got up from her bottom bunk and saw Faith breaking down, and looked to comfort her. Claire was Faith's cellmate. Claire was only 16 when she got to prison. Usually, a sixteen year old girl would go to Juvenile Hall for a crime. But, the judge charged her as an adult for a crime she didn't commit. Claire was charged with manslaughter. The victim was literally found that way with Claire covered in their blood. She has been in prison for only one year now, but her sentence was Life.
The same as Faith's.
Faith helped Claire up, putting her arm around Claire's back. Claire had become a sister to Faith, and the same went for Claire. They knew that they were both in it for a long time. Claire was the only one Faith let her wall down to. They weren't like normal girl friends, talking about guys and trading beauty secrets. Their surroundings didn't have that much of an impact on it, as much as their pasts had. Claire was charged for her father's murder.
Before Claire had arrived, there was major talk about her. They called her 'Kasper, the Deadly Ghost,' and described her as one mean, hard bitch. No heart. No love. No remorse. Nothing. But, when Claire Kasper had arrived, it was a shock to everyone that she was only sixteen years old, and crying as she walked down the hall. The cells were, for once, quiet. Faith thought that everyone that day felt sorry for the girl, and it was obvious that she did not kill her father.
Faith laid Claire down in her bed. Claire was now seventeen years old, well old enough to take care of herself. But, as she had confided to Faith, Claire never had a mother. Faith had already known that, as on the news, they had brought it up in the case that she might have killed her mother as well, but there wasn't enough evidence to back that up.
Claire held her face, her cold palms giving some relief to the pain accidentally inflicted by Faith.
"Let me look at your nose," Faith asked, taking Claire's hands away from her face and checking to see if it was broken.
Thankfully, it wasn't.
"Well?" Claire wondered aloud.
"It's not broken. But, it'll be swollen," Faith responded and the ends of her lips tugged upwards. "Now you can say that you were part of that lunch fight yesterday."
Claire smiled as well. Faith stood up, and pulled herself up onto the top bunk. Claire knew that Faith hadn't said she was sorry for what she did. But that wasn't how Faith was. Claire was surprised that Faith even checked to see if it was broken. Claire closed her eyes, rolling over onto her other arm and drifted off into sleep.
Faith got under the thin covers that were provided for her and the rest of the prisoners. She laid her head down onto the rough pillow, her eyes awake for a moment before she finally shut them and fell asleep.