So, I decided to post this after all. I did promise it almost two years ago when I wrote my one shot for Death Race; it took me this long to put it all together and have it make sense. I hope this story gets enjoyed.
I won't be talking about the state of the economy from Death Race in here just to keep things simple. After reading the movie's script, my understanding is that Jensen was only in jail for the wrongful charge of killing his wife since he mentions that he "was always headed here. Always knew." I'm not sure if the comment of "he spent some time upstate. Killed his career" means he did previous jail time, but for the sake of this story, he did not do any other jail time. Also, I've just noticed that all the other films (I can't believe how many other films there are!) in this series have apparently made the 2008 film take place in 2020 (?), even though it originally said 2012, but I've already written this story set in 2015 with events of the film happening in 2012 and will not be changing it. Thank you for understanding.
Happy reading!
Prologue
She was hunched over her desk, writing in her journal. She wasn't sure why she kept doing this, but it helped her to get it out sometimes instead of leaving it all running around in her mind. She reached to shift her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear; her other hand still writing.
The door opened, and she looked up to see a younger woman approach her and then sit down backwards on the chair next to her, dropping her chin on her arms, which were resting on the chair's head rest.
"Yes?" she asked.
"What're you doing?" the younger woman asked.
"I'm journaling."
"What are you writing about?"
She paused, thinking. It was probably obvious anyway. She gave a small smile then, and the younger woman snapped her fingers.
"You're writing it down," she said. "The story of how you all met."
"You caught me."
"Can I read it when it's done?"
"Everything but the adult parts."
"Awww."
"You're not old enough for that yet," she said, giving the young woman a look. "And I don't think you should ever read that stuff anyway."
"Yea, you're right," the younger woman said, wrinkling her nose. "Okay, well, I'm gonna go hang out with some friends."
"Don't stay out too late."
"I won't," the younger woman promised, getting up and giving her a tight hug before leaving. She smiled and turned back to her journal. Yes, this story brought up a lot of feelings of pain, but it also brought up feelings of happiness and love. It was bittersweet that way. She'd been working on it for a few days now.
She looked at the photograph on the desk and reached to touch it with her fingertips.
"I miss you," she whispered. She wished she could write more than just her account of the events, but that was all she had. Then she cleared her throat and got back to work.
It was a fairly lengthy story after all.