OKAY EERYONE IS ALLOWED TO MAKE FUN OF ME! Me being the dumbass I am, accidently added the wrong chapter for this story yesterday. And I thought everyone just hated my writing so I went back to check it, and a different chapter popped up, so I am SO sorry to everyone.
Because I have read so much on prison, and what life is like in jail I wanted to have her locked up a little bit longer. Because most of the gossip people say about prison isn't actually true. Like only 9% of prisoners actually get raped, and shanking isn't just jabbing a toothbrush into people fast, they actually try plunging their fingers into their intestines and try pulling them out.
Because of Andy Palon refusing to show Dr. Leno any sympathy about her crimes he gave her no option to get out on parole or out on good behavior, which was laughable, rarely any prisoner got out on good behavior, but it was still a threat the therapist would hang over their heads.
John would normally fill her cell with meaningless talk which she surprisingly listened to, ever since her small comment a year ago, she hadn't talked to him since. Her words were normally taken the wrong way, so she sticked to using the bare minimum, the term 'silence is deadly' as a reason.
On the last few months of Andy's sentence the lust for blood became harder to handle. She watched as people got stabbed continuously behind her pillar, people's faces shredding from being dragged along the fence, she even watched and almost joined in on someone who was putting another's hand into the license plate dispenser.
The want to hurt someone had never been more appealing. But holding back challenged her self-control, and with six months of parole after her seven year sentence she would need it.
Prison was something that never scared Andy, even when she was seventeen getting arrested at her high school. The thought seemed fun to her. Her twisted mind liked the idea of controlled killing in jail, even as a teenager the thought of killing was pleasant, that's what made Andy believed that when she got out of jail, her life wasn't going to change. She was going to be the cold hearted bitch who murdered her foster parents, and tortured inmates for sitting next to her in the cafeteria.
She always liked her space, so being alone in her dorm was something she cherished. That explained why every time the prison became over-whelmed with people, she would offer herself to solitary confinement.
Andy never liked people. So when a prisoners pushed up on her for alliances with their groups, they surprisingly committed suicide; hung in their dorms, or had bad batch of coke.
She didn't like being used. And she proved to the other inmates she didn't want friends either, keeping anyone and everyone away from her.
Everyone around her got hurt, mostly at her hands, but in the end they were bruised, scared, and some dead. There was never anything holding her down, nothing to be disposed of, it kept her life easy and uncomplicated.
Surprisingly Andy didn't see John as a setback, he was someone trying to break her walls down that were never even weakened by his countless talking, and questions.
It was a short four months filled with clenching fists, and bloodshot eyes. Andy would constantly need something to take off the edge of hurting someone. It now seemed like everyone around her was purposely trying to show her the good life, something she wanted and needed desperately.
Weed was the only thing that took her mind off of killing, it scattered, and probably killed off her brain cells but it worked.
She was probably high for the last four months in prison, barley snapping out of her mind drift as John lead her down the unused hallway to the front office of the prison. Her vision slightly blurry, and unhelpful thoughts entering her mind.
The hallway she was lead down slowly started to get nicer changing from its cement floors to black and white tiles, the building started to have windows, the doors were made of glass, and workers were running around without guard uniforms.
She was lead back to a small room, something that reminded her of solitary confinement with all white walls, and a counter top that had bars leading into another room.
"Unit number?" A black woman asked from behind the bars. She wore the usual blue uniform, with her hair tired back in a messy pony tail.
"G-5" Andy rasped out, her voice think and horsey. The black woman nodded, before typing away, Andy watched her red long nails hit the keyboard, make an annoying tapping sound. The thought of breaking them off and shoving them down her throat seemed pleasant, but Andy snapped back to reality quickly.
The woman turned to the file cabinets behind her and started rummaging through them. Pulling out a thin clear bag, Andy recognized her sunglasses and black watch from inside of it. The lady slipped it through the small hole, and the paperwork for Andy regarding her Parole officer.
Andy nodded watching the lady leave the back room, and she started stripping. Pulling off the orange jumpsuit and laying it on the floor, and yanked her old boot cut jeans up her ass. They hung low on her waist, showing the black lacy thong she was arrested in. Her tank top reveled the bottom of her stomach, and her old army green jacket was still a bit loose on her.
John came back to the door, and smiled at her. She nodded back at him before he nudged her towards the front of the building.
"Well, I've had a nice time talking with you" John told the young lady trying to get any reaction out of her. She nodded her head at him. They stood a few feet from the front doors. She thought about walking away, ignoring him again like she had for months, but then thought better of it.
"You were the only one talkin'" She replied huskily, before turning and walking out the door. John wasn't her friend, she refused to admit he was. He was an acquaintance who she knew because of prison. She refused to look back, because it was a sign of weakness, and she also knew he would be standing by the door watching her leave towards the ratty bus near the street.
It was the kind that drove the community service people to and from the highway for clean-up duty. She walked towards the open door, and stood staring up at the older man driving. He was an ex-officer from the military, his tattoo peaking out of his bus uniform. He nodded towards the scary woman, before she climbed on, and sat down on the second one back.
She was a beautiful woman, but the kind that had an aurora around her that kept others at bay.
He stared at her from the mirror that sat near the roof of the bus, waiting for her to tell him the destination.
"Charming, it ain't that far off from Lodi" She muttered, turning her attention away from the man.
"Sounds nice" The man replied trying to create small talk, the frightening woman radiated anger, revenge, and pain. He wanted to soften the tension a bit.
"It ain't very charmin'" The dark dressed woman muttered before leaning back in her seat, crossing her arms and staring out the dirty window