The Demise of Megan Dewtrop

7.It's a Pity

"So tell me, then...." I was pissed now. Honestly, the child brought no good feeling to my heart.

"Tell you what?" Her hair flopped back into her face again, she blew at it and it merely fluttered back into place.

"Why did you plan it?" I watched her intently.

Megan tilted her head back over the edge of the chair and puffed out her cheeks. I saw a swelling in her neck. "I suppose I may as well be honest with you...." huh... I crossed my legs and shuffled in my seat. "I wanted to freak you out...... yeah" she became more sure of herself, "And probably the power thing, too.

"And I was really bored. There's nothing to do here. Ever." Her shoulders rolled over in self sorrow.

"Is that why you were cleaning?"

"Yeeaaahhh..." the vowels were long and calm. "I know the guards realised that I'd done it on purpose, even though my excuse was legit.....ish"

"So is that punishment then?" seems alright to me, I guess...

Her head moved up and down slowly, nodding tentatively. "And three days solitary," we made eye contact, "which sucked..."

Oh wow, I could never be alone for three days... "Isn't that... a bit... excessive?" I paused, "I mean, the whole was shocking."

"I scare them, they don't like not knowing where people are...... and I mentioned a shank, stupidly." She shook her head sadly. "You should be thankful, it was for you." I looked at her blankly, Megan took a deep breath. "This may come as a surprise to you, or something, but when you aren't here I am a normal human being. Which makes it illegal to shackle me up. These," she brought her hands up and shook them at me, "are only for when I leave the POD, or some one else comes in. Most of the time I'm totally free." Her eyes met mine again, her face was stony. "This is for your safety."

After a moment of glaring at me, she gave a soft laugh. "Is that because of the riot?" Ha... that stopped her in her tracks. Her face was flinty again, she let her feet settle back on the floor again and started spinning the chair lightly.

"I wouldn't call it a 'riot' as such...." She peered at me from under her brows. "Besides, you shouldn't know about that."

"Yes, but I do." I held her gaze, "So....?"

"So what?" You'e blown it, Casey. That line of conversation is over. "I was arrested when I was 12 and 10 months, an officer bent down and held my hand and said "Sweetie, we need you to come with us." and he lead me to the car, which I voluntarily got into. For three days, I was held in a Police station, where I was rarely locked in and no one laid a hand on me." She spun faster and the edge of the chair hit the desk behind with a loud crack. "Then.... after bail was denied, I was in a secure housing facility. And the only door that was locked was the front one." She looked up for a second, "People liked me there; I'm well spoken, bright. I respected the adults. I wore my own clothes, and when I needed to go to the doctors they just took me there like my mum would have done. No security or whatever.

"At my trial..." She coughed a little, "the judge said I was 'a chilling example of my generation's selfishness'." She enunciated each word. "My case had gone... From a 'mercy killing' to premeditated murder and threatening to take another's life... Which was unfair." She grumbled.

"And then... I was sent here." Her voice became lower, still objective in tone. But she was definitely feeling something. "And here... is shit. Initially I was in POD A, which is low security. It's quite nice there, you should visit sometime." She recommended. "They get a lot of freedom there, hmm.