Zodiac One-Shots

World Gone Mad (Sagittarius X Aquarius)

For Furrbaby ~

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"Aquarius?" The person behind the screen asked. A girl, no more than 16 glanced up, warily eyeing the metal bars that separated her from the voice. She couldn't see the woman's face, but she didn't care. She wanted to forget this place as fast as possible. The less she saw the better.

"That's me." She said, voice flat and hollow. Six months she had been here, and it was expected for her to sound tired. So, she played it up, eyes only watching the ground. The less you look like a threat, the more people trust you. Simple as that.

A paper was pushed towards her, a pen rolled out behind it. The woman extracted her fingers as quickly as possible, as if Aquarius might bite. To be fair, maybe some of the kids in here did. "Sign on the dotted line, then wait outside."

Doing as she said, she scribbled her name and headed for the door. Heavily bolted and metal. Smart. It clicked unlocked, and she pushed it open, wincing at the harsh sunlight filtering through the windows. She hadn't seen direct sun in what seemed like forever, save the fluorescent lights the whole facility had.

The Junior Correctional Facility. JCF, if you were professional. Hell if you were one of the kids here.

In the last room, a guard waited lazily, a gun at his belt. Aquarius could think of at least twelve ways she could steal it in less than thirty seconds. Her fingers itched to grab, her legs ready to run.

But she did not want to go back there. Even though he was waiting for her. She just couldn't.

So she simply nodded when he greeted her. Said yes and no sir to his basic routine questions. And when he asked her to give up anything she had brought with her, she lied and said she had nothing.

And with a gruff nod, he lead her to the police car that would take her home. Then, in the safety of the soundproof glass that separated them, she pulled the paper scraps out of her sock.

The largest pieces were the size of her hand, the smallest on a gum wrapper, each filled with messy handwriting. Sometimes in pen, or pencil, or ink, they all had one thing in common.

They told the story of the boy across the hall.

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Are you reading this? Hopefully this is the right room for the girl with the dyed blue hair, or I might get my ass beat. So I won't say who I am. But I need somebody to know my story, and for whatever reason, I think it should be you.

The first note, written on a dirty napkin, had slipped under her door an hour after curfew, crinkling just enough to grab her attention. Aquarius had read it and discarded it, thinking it was some stupid joke one of the older kids was playing on her. So she went to sleep without another thought.

That was exactly four months ago.

Me again, and I promise this isn't a joke. I heard you laughing about it at lunch. You have a nice laugh. It's good to hear in such a dark place. I'll guess I'll tell my story soon.

Slightly nervous she had a stalker, she had discarded the paper before going to bed. This one had come the next day at the same time, this time on a sheet of ripped note paper that they gave out occasionally to get us to write. Nobody ever did, but yet they tried. She had gone to sleep once again, wondering what was to come.

I've been here since I was eleven, and let me tell you, I wish I could say it gets better. But I'm fifteen now, and it still sucks. Now, how did I get here? I guess like you, I have a story too.