Addicted (OITNB)

1- It's Not That Bad

I STARE OUT the window as the van drives down a road surrounded by trees and shrubbery, watching my life pass me back. It hadn't really sunk in yet- I was going to prison. Prison. Evie Connor, straight A student, teachers pet, aspiring future to be a lawyer like I've always wanted since I was only six years old.

Those dreams have been crushed. How could I work for the law if I've broken the law? My life is pretty much over, all that hard work and dedication I've put into my studies and endless amounts of hours I've worked to sustain a decent life for myself and my eighteen year old sister. All for nothing.

Before I know it, my bottom lip quivers and a silent sob escapes my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut as I try not to think of my sister. Millie can't survive on her own. She doesn't have a job. She has to live off the last few amounts of money I saved up before being arrested.

"Oh, sweetheart. Don't you worry. It's not that bad."

I look up, having been caught off guard by a mixture of a Brooklyn and Boston accent. I didn't expect a fellow prisoner to try and comfort me. Wasn't everyone supposed to be mean in prison?

I don't reply. Instead I wipe away my tears and lay my head back. I feel like a large carrot in this uniform. It's so baggy that I'm basically swimming in it.

"I love it here. I mean, sure I miss Christopher and would love to get out of here and get our wedding going, oh! That reminds me." She moves towards the empty passengers seat and grabs a magazine, barely looking at the road ahead. The van swerves to the side a bit, making me clutch at the door handle for my dear life. The woman doesn't seem to worry about it, and starts flicking through the magazine resting against the steering wheel.

"Ah, here it is." She mutters to herself when she finally finds the page she was looking for. She passes the magazine on to me and I take it cautiously. "Which dress should I wear? The sleeveless or the sleeves?"

I stare down at the two photos of models in long white dresses, one with long sleeves down to the wrists and the other exposing the arms and collarbone.

I'm not really in the mood for this, but for my own safety and good first impression, I decide to help her. Maybe this woman can keep me company while I'm here.

"I like the sleeveless one. I feel like it will suit your hair." I tell her as I pass the magazine back to her.

"That's what I thought! Christopher will love it." She chirps. I smile weakly.

The woman turns her head to look over at me, her short brown locks bouncing. "I'm Morello, by the way."

"Evie."

"Last name or first?"

"Oh uh, first. Last name Connor."

"Connor." Morello repeats as she seems to think. I love her accent. I can listen to her talk all day.

"Both your names sound like first names. So I guess you can use any, although we usually use last names."

We drive for another ten minutes or so, the whole ride consisting of Morello talking about her wedding. It was nice to know that there's at least one nice person in prison.

When we finally pull up to the long brick building, I suddenly feel nauseous. This was really it.

Morello gets out first and I follow, clutching my strawberry coloured pillow as I stare at the building. I swallow the lump in my throat.