This Is The Day

•Two•

Please read Authors Note at the bottom.

S C A R L E T T

I look at the girl standing in front of me. She's wide-eyed, innocent. Scared. She hides half of her face behind a curtain of hair, so that gives me the idea that she's shy, possibly hiding something. Or both.

"H-hi," she whispers, barely audible. Before the conversation can continue someone unlocks and opens our cell door. I'm surprised to see that it is the guard the interrogated me earlier. By the look of shock on his face, I can tell he didn't expect me to be here.

"Oh, hey Francis," I roll my eyes sarcastically.

"My name's not-" He begins.

"How've ya been? Throwing girls in jail must really tire you out." I state, glaring at him and trying to make him explode with my mind.

He narrows his eyes, holding up two prison jumpsuits. I almost want to throw up just looking at them.

"I brought your jumpsuits," he bluntly tosses them into the cell.

I hold it out in front of me. "Francis, orange is not my color! Why couldn't you get something that compliments my eyes more?" I batt my eyes at him. While all of this is going on my cell mate is just watching, silent.

"Very funny," he murmurs, rubbing the place in his jaw where I punched him. He shuts out door, locking it. I hear his footsteps move to the next cell.

My roommate decides to speak for only the second time in what feels like an eternity, "How do you know each other?"

"Story time can wait for right now, what are you in for?" I question because it is completely confusing to think a girl like her could end up here.

She fiddles with her thumbs and remains quite, she looks guilty which only furthers my curiosity. "I nearly killed someone." Her delicate voice rings out and it sounds like she's trying to convince herself that it is reality rather than just some exaggerated story.

"Why?" I don't feel like I should ask, seeing as it was a touchy subject but I can't really help it, she doesn't look like she could do something like that.

"He was going to hurt me."

I leave it at that because I can see tears threatening to spill out.
"Why are you in here?" Her weak voice trembles.

"I stole from a gas station, that story is for another time." I cringe remembering as to why I was there that night and I feel that feeling of relief when she doesn't ask further questions.

I V Y

I'm shaking but it isn't from the cold, trembling but it isn't just because the fear. How did I end up here? I ask myself over and over again. I always behave, never step up, always back away. I snapped, it consumed me and I couldn't control it.

My eyes dart around the dingy cell and notice the one toilet in the far corner of the room, I flinch. "I'll turn away." She chuckles but I still see sympathy mixed with a glint of fear in her eyes. Even though I had just met her, I know that she didn't want anyone to know about it.

"Thanks." I mumble, barely loud enough for her to hear, "We should probably change into those." I gesture to the sets of jump suits. The look of disdain is clear on her face as she makes an ugh sound.

I get in my bunk and I softly thank god that there is a curtain. I quickly change, I have experience changing quickly since my many years in Theater and Gym.

When I get out, the fiery girl is already dressed. She's rocking the look, and even though that's a good thing it's also a bad thing. Her sleeves were ripped off and her top is slightly more unbuttoned but not too much, her hair is down and is draping  delicately over her shoulders and I admire at how it looks like waves of fire. She has remaining makeup but she doesn't look like she needs any of it.