"You were drivin' the getaway carWe were flyin', but we'd never get far. Don't pretend it's such a mystery,Think about the place where you first met me"~Getaway Car//Taylor Swift~
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THE ST. MARS JUVENILE PRISON APPEARED FROM THE OUTSIDE AS A GRAY, BARE AND DEFINITELY DEPRESSING BUILDING.The iron fence with embedded barbed wire that surrounded the structure, immediately made it clear what kind of place it was, not to mention the bars that macabrely decorated every single window, which were striking enough to make anyone think:"Man, this is definitely a place to stay away from!"
Mal Irving however, unlike the hundreds of people who passed in front of that building every day, had no particular reaction to the sight of the place that would become her prison for the next two years and without protesting too much, she had himself escorted inside by the two police officers who had brought her there. The two men had transported her there in the car and that was Mal's first time in a car since the accident and her reaction had been quite unexpected and painful: just a minute after leaving, she had in fact started hyperventilating and crying silently, but the two agents hadn't noticed, or they had simply noticed and ignored her. Mal was pretty sure of the second option.
The two men dragged her in in a less than courteous manner, always making sure that her wrists remained securely cuffed behind her back. The cold of the handcuffs around her wrists was the only thing that Mal could concentrate on, while they searched her from head to toe without too many scruples. Focusing on a very specific detail was the only way Mal found to try and ignore the giggles and the slightly too touchy attitude of the two officers. Then, finally, the search was concluded and once all the checks were finally passed, Mal was entrusted to the head of the women's section of the prison, who introduced herself as Pam.
"My name is Pamela Notario, but everyone here calls me Pam"-she said to her, as she removed the handcuffs from her wrists-"and you're Mallory Irving, aren't you? The high-speed killer"-she concluded, chuckling at her own joke in a slightly irritating way.
"High-speed killer?"-she asked, speaking for the first time since she got up that morning and in fact her voice was slightly hoarse and not particularly friendly.
"Well, where to start? Car theft, exceeding the speed limit and then boom! A nice head-on with a dozen of injured and one dead person"-she listed without showing a shred of sensitivity regarding the matter and for Mal, hearing the chaos she had caused repeated for the millionth time was like reliving the crash of that cursed evening, but a thousand times more amplified-"even on the news, not being able to spread your name, they call you that"-she explained, observing her with an amused, but hostile expression at the same time-"you're really a little criminal and this place is perfect for you. Now let's go: follow me."
Mal obeyed, limping a little to keep up with her, having taken off the cast on his leg a few days earlier. In theory, she shouldn't have been able to walk without help yet, but all the doctors at the hospital were impressed by how quickly she recovered. Indeed, one morning Mal had heard a nurse describe her sudden recovery as some sort of miracle. Obviously to the girl it had seemed a bit exaggerated: she had simply stopped very soon to feel pain in her leg and even though it still hurt from time to time, she was still able to walk without any help.
