Cath's POV
"Cath?"
The inquiring voice takes me by surprise. It is the first that either of us has spoken.
"Hmm?"
"I don't know where we go from here."
I shift, rolling over so I am properly facing her.
"Me neither, honey." I whisper, fumbling under the covers for her hand and bringing it up to my lips. "We don't have to do anything."
"I know." She mumbles, her gaze fixated on the stained and cracked ceiling above us.
"Or," I continue, shuffling closer and laying a warm hand over her steady heartbeat. "We can carry on and see what happens?"
She turns to me with an unreadable expression and for a long moment I think I've pushed her too far, when finally her lips turn into a small smile.
"Yeah." She says at last.
I return the look, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth.
"So?" I push gently when it appears she isn't going to speak again. She looks at me in confusion, an adorably endearing picture.
"So what?"
I nudge her pointedly beneath the covers.
"So, how was it?"
Her cheeks flame and she rolls into me, tucking herself protectively into a ball beneath my chin
I can't help but laugh at her shyness as I wrap my arms around her, nestling my face into her soft curls.
"Amazing." I hear her mumble against my chest. "Different. Indescribable."
"I'd settle for amazing." I joke, cuddling her as close as I can. She's unexpectedly cold, despite the blanket draped across us, so I start rubbing circles on her back in an attempt to warm her up a little.
I have to admit, I surprised even myself. I wasn't expecting to get as much personal pleasure from it as I did. A part of me had been scared that it would bring up unforgettable memories of her first night here; but in reality, it had been nice. No, not nice … comfortable.
Even now, as her breathing starts to even out and she stops wriggling, she seems to fit perfectly in my arms; coiling herself around my body in an awkward but unusually natural position.
"We'll figure it out." I mumble, dropping another kiss into her hair. "There's plenty of time."
As the words leave my lips, I hear the lies in them and feel my heart constrict a little.
Time is the one thing we're never short of in here.
But my time is running out.
X x x
Sara's POV
I expected it to be awkward when we woke up, but I feel oddly relaxed as I blink my eyes open.
Catherine is still asleep; so, carefully freeing myself from her grip without disturbing her, I opt to make the most of the opportunity and just watch her for a while.
She's very pretty. Possibly one of the prettiest people I have ever met. Her hair shimmers, turning different colours under the light and her blue eyes almost appear to change shade with the changes of her mood.
You can see the damage she has inflicted on herself over the years. Her nose is slightly caved inwards and her voice is husky from years of cocaine abuse. But all of these things just seem to add to her flawed perfection.
I never thought I would be having these feelings for another woman. Then again, I never thought I would end up in prison.
In my short time here I have heard the term 'gay for the stay' batted around a fair bit and until now I hadn't understood the allure in sleeping with a woman just for the physical contact.
But now, after a single night of passion with Catherine, I do understand. The feel of another person's hands on my skin had never felt so good, so … right. I hadn't felt scared, or used, or any of the other horrible feelings that usually flood my system during sex. And now, as I watch her peacefully sleeping beside me, I don't feel guilt or shame, just comfort.
"Morning." She mumbles, alerting me to her conscious presence.
"Hey." I smile. "How long have you been awake?"
"How long have you been staring at me?" She counters, stifling a yawn.
I grin, busted.
She struggles to sit up, attempting feebly to do something with her hair before giving up and letting it fall in haphazard waves.
I reach up, stroking it lightly to put some of it back in place. She barely seems to notice as she casts a sleepy glance around the room.
"Have we missed breakfast?" She inquires, noting that the cells are unlocked and inmates are already milling around.
"Probably." I shrug. I vaguely recall hearing the guards come past but in my sleep-induced state I hadn't taken much notice.
"Never mind." She stretches. "I'm not that hungry anyway."
She leans in, nuzzling my face affectionately for a few seconds, peppering soft kisses on my cheek, before climbing over me and dropping to the floor out of my line of sight.
My skin still tingles where her lips last touched me, but it's not an unpleasant sensation.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
X x x
Cath's POV
There is an odd sort of atmosphere between the two of us since last night. More on my part then hers, admittedly.
I am unsettled by the onslaught of feelings for the young girl. I have wanted to take care of her since she arrived, but I never really expected to fall for her. And now I feel like I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place.
When I was with Eddie, I came to a point where I had to make a choice: I could stay with him and risk going to prison, or I could walk away and be a free woman on my own.
At the time I had chosen a relationship over freedom. And once again I found myself with the same choice.
Only this time, the decision has already been made for me.
I needed some time to think, so I left Sara contentedly scribbling in her book and went for a walk.
Having skipped breakfast, I am hungry and conveniently find myself in the dining hall as the first sitting of dinner is being doled out. I briefly consider going to find her, but ultimately decide that she will come down in her own time. I'd rather be alone right now, anyway.
I help myself to a tray and allow the kitchen worker to heap a mountain of something less-than-appetising on it.
Seeking out a seat in a quiet corner, I poke at the sludge with a fork for a moment before scooping some of it up. It appears to be some sort of stew.
I am about to risk taking a bite when a young spiky-haired inmate that I know as Laura sidles up to my table and plants her hands in front of me.
"Your new plaything is quite the little fighter." She states with a wry smile. "Very feisty."
I freeze, lifting my eyes slowly to hers.
"What?" The word sounds fearful even to my own ears.
She just grins, dipping one finger into my food and seductively licking it off before sashaying away, leaving me to fill in the blanks on my own.
Without hesitating another second, I am out of the seat so fast I manage to upturn my tray in the process.
One of the guards hollers something abusive at me but I don't stop, charging through the crowd of people as I fight my way upstairs and down the winding corridor; the same thought repeating itself in my mind like a broken record:
This can't be happening again. Not now.
X x x
I don't understand how it could have happened. I was only gone for half an hour.
When I arrive back, stumbling inelegantly through the door, most of the crowd has already dispersed. A few stragglers remain, but most of them are smart enough to get the hell out of dodge when I come flying in.
Harper is standing in the middle of the room, re-tying the cord on her pants.
And at her feet, curled into a tiny, helpless ball, is my Sara.
Even from here I can see that she is bleeding from several wounds.
Without sparing anyone a second glance, I dart across the room and land beside her, stroking her hair gently. She flinches at the contact, a pained squeak escaping her bruised throat.
I look up, my eyes burning as they latch onto Harper's smirking face.
"What have you done to her?"
She continues to grin manically at me, dragging the toe of her boot up Sara's leg.
"Don't worry, I didn't tear her up too bad for you." She hisses.
"Get out." My voice is dangerously low, but she just laughs callously. When she doesn't make any effort to move, I stand up. Even at my full height, she massively overshadows me but I feel ten feet tall right now as my possessive side takes control. "Get. Out."
With a final chuckle to herself she turns to leave, pausing in the doorway of the cell to throw one final, heart-wrenching comment at me.
"Don't forget Goldilocks, you're up for parole next week." She croons. "Who's going to protect her then?"
My whole body stiffens at her words, my blood running cold as it hits me that everything I have feared would happen is coming true.
As soon as she is out of sight, I drop back to my knees, sliding down behind Sara until my head is resting on her hip. I stroke her hair gently, threading my fingers through the gentle ringlets.
"It's okay baby, I'm here now. You're okay - I'll protect you." I whisper gently.
I'm not sure whether she can hear me or not, but I continue to utter the soothing words until I feel her shaking subside.
Standing up, I carefully pick her up beneath her arms and practically carry her to the bed.
She puts up no fight, allowing me to undress her. Blood-stained bruises cover about half of her slender body. I resist the urge to touch her too much, knowing that she may not want physical comfort right now. Retrieving a bowl of warm water from the sink and a clean cloth, I carefully tend to her wounds to the best of my ability. To my relief, her injuries all appear to have been inflicted by fists and shoes. Judging by the amount of blood, I had feared that Harper had brought a weapon to the fight.
It wouldn't be the first time, after all. I still carried the scars as proof of that.
She is watching my every move, her dark eyes wary and unreadable. However, she doesn't shy away or attempt to resist my touch. I choose to believe it is because she doesn't want to, not because she can't.
Once her injuries are treated as best I can manage, I wrap her tightly in a blanket. I elect to leave her undressed for now, curling up beside her and using my own body heat to keep her warm instead. Slipping my hands inside the blanket, I hold her impossibly close as silent tears finally start to make their way down her pale, stone-cold cheeks.
I kiss her bruised forehead, then her split lips. She winces, turning her head away from me; in embarrassment or shame, I am not quite sure. Perhaps resentment for letting this happen to her.
"It's okay now." I repeat softly. "I've got you. No one's going to hurt you again."
As I rock her gently, I can't help but consider the irony of my predicament.
I have spent the last nine months waiting for my parole date to arrive.
And now it's here, I find that the only thing I really care about anymore resides inside these stone cold walls.