Wentworth: Cracked Diamonds (𝔣.𝔡.x𝔬𝔠)

Through The Looking Glass

Chapter 2

"Jasmine Holt, I'm Bridget Westfall, Forensic Psychologist. Please, sit." Bridget observes Jasmine's body language and notices that she brings her legs to her chest. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" Jasmine shrugs, picking at a string in her teal pants. "That's fine. You shouldn't feel pressured to say anything. Our sessions are completely confidential and whatever you say won't leave this room," Bridget reassures. After a few minutes of silence, Bridget speaks up. "I notice you're sitting with your legs to your chest. Is there anything specific that's making you feel uncomfortable or uneasy? We can take things at your pace, and I want to ensure that you feel safe and supported here." Jasmine slowly puts her legs down. "What do you wanna know?" "Whatever you're comfortable sharing, Miss Holt."

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Jasmine’s back is to the door as she giggles at something Franky says, and she kisses between Franky's neck and shoulder. Franky looks past Jasmine seeing a guard. "Oi!" She makes sure she's covered, and protectively wraps her arms around her. "Get out of here ya sick fuck!" The guard leaves and a little later Mr. Jackson is standing outside, his back to the door. "Holt get dressed, you're being moved." Jasmine quickly gets up pulling her clothes on. "Princess, don't listen to ‘em," Franky tells her. The guard from before grabs Jasmine's arm, harshly pulling her out of the cell. "The fuck is he doin’!?" Franky angrily follows. "Doyle calm down or you're going to the slot." Mr. Jackson warns her. "Let go of her." Franky yanks his arm, when he turns around she punches him, breaking his nose this makes him let Jasmine go to hold his nose. "Fuck!" The guard shouts. "Vera, Doyle locked herself in her cell with Holt, we're gonna need your help," Will speaks into his walkie. Franky looks at Jasmines arm. "¡Qué mierda, Franky! ¡Le rompiste la puta nariz!" "He hurt ya." "You broke his nose!" "Doyle, I'll take her to medical." Mr. Jackson tries to reason. "Just open the door." "Fuck off." Vera runs into the cell block, The Governor following. "I'm not letting ya move her!" Franky yells at them, putting her head to Jasmines. "Ella no puede lastimarte, Princesa. I won't let her."

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"I've got Doyle."  Governor Jackson looks up. "Thank you, Will." Will leaves them. "Take a seat." Franky shakes her head, arms crossed. "Nah, I can hear ya fine from here." "Doyle sit down!" Franky chuckles sitting. "I wasn't aware you knew Spanish 'Ella no puede lastimarte, Princesa. I won't let her.' That's what you told Holt, mind telling me what's that about?" "Oo I'm sorry Mrs. J but I don't know what you're talking about. Ya see, I don't know any Spanish." "Cut the shit, Doyle. Charges will be pressed." Franky shrugs. "I don't care." "But you care enough about Miss Holt to risk everything." Franky doesn't say anything. "If you actually care about Jasmine Holt you'll tell me who you're protecting her from." "I already told ya I don't know what ya on about."

"Mr. Jackson, take her back to the slot." She looks at a paper. "Yes, Governor." Before they can leave she stops them. "Oh and let Jacs Holt back into general for good behavior." "Fuck! Ya can't put me back in the slot!" "It's my prison Doyle I can do whatever I want." Will drags her out of the room. "Fuck you, Mrs. Jackson!" Franky screams from outside the room.

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"I um-" Jasmine swallows, glancing down. "Take your time." Bridget gently reassures. Jasmine nods. "My stepmum was abusive." Jasmine hesitates, trying to find the right words to express the difficult experiences she went through under her stepmother's care. Memories of the abuse flood her mind, making it hard for her to form coherent sentences. However, with Bridget's support, she gathers her thoughts and starts to recount her story.

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Jasmine, who's sitting in Franky's seat, tenses. "Are you okay, love?" Liz asks concerned. Jasmine nods, not making eye contact with anyone, scratching her wrist. "Just miss you guys. Been a while that's all." "Love you've sat with us every day." Doreen nudges Liz, getting her attention motioning to Jacs Holt.

"What?" Boomer asks. "Jacs is back and Jass was moved to her unit," Doreen tells her. "Reckon Franky will do something eh?" "That's the thing Franky's in the slot still," Jasmine mutters.

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"Jassy, Love, you have to eat something," Liz tells her. Jasmine shakes her head, jumping her leg, and scratching her arm. "Are you pissed?" Doreen asks Jasmine quietly. Boomer cheers. "Look who's back eh!" Jasmine looks up, to see Franky. Franky's smirk leaves her face when she sees how sick Jasmine looks. She gets two trays of food making a beeline for their table.  Jasmine starts to get up but Franky stops her. She drops the tray and pulls up another seat. "Eat." With her arms crossed she carefully watches Jasmine, who grimaces. "I'm not hungry." "Bullshit, it's obvious ya haven't eaten a thing in days." Franky glares at Jacs. "It's your favorite." Her gaze softens on Jasmine, who swallows, looks at the food, and quietly whispers. "I can't." Franky chews her lip, concerned. "Okay." She nods. "Just make sure to drink something, alright?" Jasmine nods, scratching her wrist. Franky notices and gently grabs her hand. "Hey, don't do that." Jasmine looks at Franky. Tears in her eyes. She was tired.

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Bridget's heart was filled with sorrow as Jasmine listed the torment she's endured. Her mother's cruel actions, denying her food and forcing her to fetch painkillers for a pain she no longer experienced, were beyond comprehension. It pained Bridget to see Jasmine being used as a pawn, as her mother supplied her with drugs and constantly reminded her of her unwanted existence. The weight of such emotional manipulation was overwhelming, and Bridget couldn't help but feel a deep empathy for Jasmine. Before Bridget could say anything they're interrupted by a knock on the door. She clears her throat. "Come in." "I'm sorry to interrupt, Miss Westfall but I've got to get Holt back before the count." Bridget stands. "Oh, yes of course Vera. We just finished." Once they've left, Bridget falls to her seat, facing the window. With her breath stuck in her throat, she blinks back tears.

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Word Count: 1052
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