Catalyst

I

She knows she shouldn't be here.

This is some huge mistake, right?

All she was trying to do was get some food in her stomach. She wasn't even involved with those assholes who robbed the gas station. She didn't even think stealing a pack of donuts from a gas station would land her in Litchfield. It couldn't, right?

Apparently so, since she's in the shuttle on the way there.

"You okay back there?" The driver asks. She's pretty; long brown hair, skinny, perfect jawline and facial structure from what Camila can see. Camila doesn't know how someone that looks like her could end up somewhere like Litchfield.

"Not really," Camila replies, because she's not. She shouldn't be here, and she knows it.

"Don't worry. You're gorgeous, you'll be just fine here," the driver chuckles, and Camila feels a tingle crawl up her spine at the tone of her voice.

She looks out the windows, observing what little landscape there is on the way to the prison. Being late August, the trees were green and full, but the peaks of color from the upcoming autumn could be seen on the tips of leaves.

Her arms are full with items they had given her before she arrived in the shuttle, a pillow and a coat. The uniform and underwear she was given are thrown haphazardly on her body, most definitely a size too big, and she feels like she's on scrubs with these shoes they gave her. At least the clothes are clean and she's not naked, right?

"What're you in for?" The driver asks.

"What are you in for?" Camila asks defensively. She doesn't want to have to explain that it's a mistake that she's here, so she goes for the deflection method.

"Touché," the driver chuckles, and no words are exchanged between them for the rest of the ride.

The sound of tires slowly rolling over gravel alerts Camila that they're stopping, and her nerves spike at the sight of the bland brick walls and the high, barbed wire fences. Then she looks at the people.

Honestly, she doesn't know if the building or the women scare her more. Scattered in the yard are women mostly wearing brown uniforms, but there's the occasional orange uniform sprinkled in there. Looking down at her own orange uniform, Camila already knows she's branded as fresh meat.

"You ready, fresh?" The driver asks, and Camila wants to throw up at the question itself. Add on the general fear of the entire building in front of her, and she's sure she might actually vomit onto the pretty shuttle driver.

"The fact that you called me fresh tells you how ready I am not," Camila mumbles, and the guard is ushering her out of the vehicle and the driver is rounding the front of the shuttle to meet her at the door.

"Ignore Boo, she's annoying as fuck," the driver says probably as a tip, but the laugh she releases when she says it makes Camila skeptical. She's walking on the dirt covered path towards the door when suddenly a loud whistle to her right catches her attention.

"Hey pretty girl," a larger woman with a black combover and the sides of her head shaved yells to Camila. "You look like you'd be nice in bed."

Camila is sure she's going to throw up now.

"Come on," the driver mumbles, giving Boo a look that Camila doesn't necessarily understand, but follows her regardless. They enter the prison through a heavy metal door, where the driver stops her.

"Head down there to processing and meet me back here," she points down the hallway. "Oh and nice to meet you, I'm Vives. We mostly go by last names here, so who are you?"

"I'm uh.." Camila has to think for a moment of what last name she'll use in prison, "Cabello."

"Nice to meet you, Cabello. Now get your cute ass moving," Vives teases, and Camila uncomfortably walks down the hall.

The guard who takes her picture is a major asshole and she ends up with a shitty picture in which she's blinking. She then gets sent down to the nurse where she gets a (very painful, she might add) check up for Tuberculosis. Afterwards, she ends up in the office of some fat misogynist, who overlooks her case file, where she tells him multiple times that she wasn't even involved in the crime. Then he proceeds to tell her that if she engages in lesbian activity while in the prison there will be severe consequences.

She's as straight as they come, why would she have sex with girls? Especially in prison?

Camila ends up back in the hallway where Vives is waiting against the wall for her. She shows Camila around, pointing out where the dining hall and recreational rooms are. Then they proceed to the temporary bunks.

As they're walking to where Camila's room is, they pass a stairway that's crowded with people giggling and speaking Spanish amongst themselves.

"Who are they?" Camila asks Vives.

"The Spanish Harlem," Vives answers. "You'll be there eventually."

Camila nods hesitantly, and hears one of the Spanish girls say, "Mira, una otra puta bonita."

Camila looks over defensively to see who called her a bitch, scanning the mostly loud group of girls and ultimately settling on a pair of silent green eyes. She physically falters, the hard state of the girl they belong to piercing into her very soul. The girl looks like someone who probably seems pissed literally all of the time, but Camila can't help but feel like she was sucker punched in the gut looking into her eyes.

Maybe she's not as straight as they come.

They break eye contact only when Camila rounds the corner, where Vives directs her to a room with three women named Demarco, Frangipane, and Ms. Rosa. Ms. Rosa looks like she's been through hell and back but she's still kicking and Demarco looks like she managed to smuggle in way too much makeup on her face, but they're nice people. Frangipane just about looks ready to jump into her pants, though.

She spends the whole first night crying, hidden under the sound of Demarco's breathing machine.