Cath's POV
I roll over, so I am hanging off the edge of the bed.
"Pretty." I comment. "So Sara Sidle, what are you in for?"
From my awkward view I see her drop her head. I don't hear what she mumbles beneath her breath but I decide not to push it. Instead, I swing my legs off the bed and jump down.
"Drugs." I state, dropping down beside her. "My boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – got me onto coke and then left me to take the fall."
"He sounds charming." She mutters, looking away. I laugh softly, humming in agreement.
"Yeah, well, it wasn't his manners that attracted me." I point out dryly. "He was dangerous … exciting. It was all one big party with Ed until the cops showed up." I run a hand through my hair, swallowing hard at the memory of my arrest. "Then he couldn't be seen for dust."
"Yeah, I know the type." Sara murmurs, toying with a loose thread on her pants. The tone of her voice suggests that isn't just an idle statement and that she does actually understand something of Eddie's type. I scrutinise her for a moment, finally asking the question that has been bugging me for some time now.
"How old are you, Sara?"
"Seventeen." She replies, straightening up as if trying to project an air of strength despite her young age. Instead, the action comes across as defensive and distrustful.
"Oh man." I breathe, shaking my head. "Just a baby."
She appears to take offence at that, but it is true; in here, at least. I have heard of minors as young as fifteen being sent to adult prisons, but only for truly serious crimes. And somehow I can't picture this timid little thing as a serial killer.
As if reading my mind, or perhaps finally demonstrating a little trust in me, she speaks again.
"Solicitation."
That's more like it.
"Let me guess." I hum, twisting around to lean against the bedpost in order to better face her. "Runaway? Drugs?"
"No drugs." She shakes her head. "And I didn't run, I was kicked out."
"Your parents threw you out?" I clarify. Perhaps this girl and I have more in common than just a concrete cell and a dose of bad fortune. She turns to me with a dark look.
"I haven't had parents in a long time."
Just as I was beginning to gleam an insight into this mysterious young woman, her expression becomes stony and her defences rocket up around her. Perhaps she thinks she's said too much.
As curious as I am about her increasingly deep background, I decide it is probably best not to push her any more.
For a few minutes we both sit in silence at opposite ends of the bed; her visibly in deep thought and myself trying to think of something to say before I lose my connection with her all together.
In the end, to my surprise, she beats me to it.
"Who was that woman … last night?" All confidence, whether feigned or not, has vanished from her voice, which comes out quiet and meek.
"Harper?" I inquire with a dark laugh in an attempt to hide my instinctive fear. "Oh don't worry, you'll find out about her soon enough."
X x x
Sara's POV
Needless to say, her answer doesn't exactly fill me with comfort.
I shift to face her and feel a stab of pain shoot through me. Catherine obviously notices me wince and a guilty look crosses her features. For a moment she doesn't seem to know what to say. Finally, she reaches out a shaky hand and pats my leg gently, mumbling an apology before practically bolting from the cell.
I frown, unsure of how to take her reaction. The memory of last night is still far too fresh in my mind to even consider letting my guard down around her, at least any more than I already have. Although she does seem genuinely sorry for her actions.
But if she knew it was wrong, why did she do it?
I consider asking her upfront about it when she returns – to address the pink elephant in the room, so to speak. After all, if we were going to be stuck in here together for several months, we can't just keep pretending it hasn't happened.
After suitably gearing myself up to put the question to her, I begin to pace, waiting for her return. I replay the conversation in my mind several times, contemplating every possible reaction.
I don't know why I'm so nervous. I have a right to know, after all. On the other hand, I have never confronted an abuser directly before. Unless you count Jonathan...
I hear the scuffle of her shoes behind me and turn, already preparing to speak. But one look at the shell-shocked expression on her pale face and I instantly snap my mouth shut.
"You okay?" I ask softly.
She turns her sad eyes towards me, scanning my face for a long moment before silently climbing onto her own bed.
I remain in the middle of the room, watching her with bemusement. She has only been gone for a few minutes.
What the hell is this place?
X x x
Cath's POV
My stomach knotted at her wince of pain. I wanted desperately to explain what Harper was capable of, but I couldn't find the words. To be honest, there weren't enough words in the world.
In the end I didn't say anything. I vaguely recall offering an apology before I scarpered from the cell.
I had been expecting her to ask sooner or later, but I hadn't thought about what I would say to her when she did.
I just need to clear my head. To take a walk and work out what I am going to tell her. She deserves an explanation, if nothing else.
After pacing up and down the corridor for a while, I elect to just start from the beginning and see where we end up.
En route back to my cell, dragging my feet reluctantly as I go, I hear the doors at the end of the corridor screech open and press my back against the wall as the guards make their way towards me. One of them barely acknowledges my presence with a small nod, while the other blanks me completely as they march past.
But I'm not really looking at them anyway. My attention is focussed on the girl held firmly in their grip.
She is short, with shoulder-length blonde hair and frantic eyes; trying to look at everything at once as she is dragged through the stone labyrinth.
One more animal for the cages. One more victim of the state.
On the plus side, I'm sure Sara will be thrilled to hear that she's no longer the new girl.
X x x
I had every intention of telling her what I had seen in the hallway, but in the end I never did. She would find out soon anyway.
And sure enough, fifteen minutes before lockdown, people begin to file out of their cells. Without a word, I grab Sara's wrist and tug her into the hall. She had been quietly reading and grumbles at the intrusion, but I resist her attempts to pull away and continue to force her to accompany me.
As soon as she spots the crowd up ahead she freezes and tries to wrench herself free, but I hold her strong, giving her a final push forward which ultimately results in her being catapulted into the new girl's cell.
Just like last night, the terrified new inmate lies pinned on the ground by the gang, squirming and writhing beneath Harper like a fish slowly dying on land. She receives a slap for her efforts before a pair of teeth sinks into her neck.
Sara has turned white. She takes a step backwards – more of a stumble really – until her back collides with me, at which point she tries to escape. I grab her around the middle, holding her fiercely against my body. Her desire to be anywhere but here right now is entirely understandable, but I can't let her leave yet. Not until she has seen what I need her to see.
Not until she has seen what I was protecting her from.
The new girl screams as Harper continues her vicious assault. Her futile attempts to fight back only cause the attacker to apply more force and draw more pained yelps and cries from her latest victim.
"Why are you doing this?" She manages to wail before someone delivers a sharp kick to her head.
Harper, thoroughly enjoying herself, throws a look over her shoulder, surveying the crowd she has amassed and catches sight of me watching from the door. She grins, holding my gaze as she forces herself even more onto this poor woman.
At this point Sara breaks free from my grip and takes off down the hallway, crashing into the wall on her way.
No matter. She has seen enough to understand.
I walk back to my cell slowly, attempting to ignore the desperate cries for help from the newest member of our little family. Soon be over, I think to myself; hoping that by some transcendental miracle the message would reach her.
I, like everyone else here, know just how long fifteen minutes can last.
By the time I reach our cell, Sara is sat on the floor, having presumably just lost everything she managed to eat today.
"You okay?" I ask quietly, although I knowI won't receive an answer. Throwing a wary glance in my direction, she picks herself up on shaky legs and staggers to the bed, where she promptly falls onto the hard mattress and curls into a ball.
I watch her for a moment before sitting down carefully behind her.
"I wasn't lying when I said I did it to protect you." I start. "I was trying to protect you from that."
"What the hell is this place?" Sara asks through breathless tears. I barely recognise the laugh that chokes out of my throat as I reach out and pat her hip gently.
"For the next six months," I state calmly. "This is home, kid."