Bora Bora Bora

22: Bitches who mess with me

Nicky's POV

I grab my clothes and try to wrap them around me as I run out. I almost slip on my weet feet several times but I keep running, thanking Heaven I don't run into any inmates or guards in my half-naked escape. I reach the broom closet where we took our supplies from this morning, and throw myself in.

I lean against the door, breathing heavily. My heart is beating so fast it feels like my chest is about to explode. What the fuck have I just done?

I run my shaking hands through my hair. I feel panic thickening the air I'm breathing in and out at an alarming speed. Whatever happened to laying low? Whatever happened to keeping my shit together and my head low and just doing my fucking time, so I could back to Lorna?

I almost fucked my cell mate and I almost relapsed and then I broke her nose and left her bleeding in a dirty shower floor. That's what happened.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I mutter, banging my head against the door each time I repeat the word. I feel hot tears in my eyes, and I let out a small cry of frustration.

My mother's voice comes back to me, like a ghost in the wind:

....something about the way you're wired...unquenchable thirst to self destruct...

But no, fuck that, it wasn't my fault this time. Okay, maybe it was only partly my fault. But I guess it doesn't matter anyway, because either way I'm the one who will end up getting fucked.

That Spanish bitch man, that Spanish bitch is crazy. She will rat me out, I'm sure. She'll say I assaulted her in the shower. She might even go as far as saying the drugs were mine. Best case scenario, I'll be facing at least another decade in Max.

"Fuck."

I let my back slip against the wall. I put my arms around my legs and hide my face between them, crying. My wet hair drips along my back, and I shiver from cold and anxiety.

Then I hear a sound, like feet shuffling, and I'm suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that I'm not alone in this closet.

"Hello? Is someone there?" I ask, in a croaky voice.

For a few seconds nothing happens...and then Amy Rogan appears in front of me. She looks younger than ever, standing there in the dark, clutching one of her braids with one hand and what appears to be a book in the other. I'm suddenly very aware of my own nakedness, and I throw my shirt and panties on.

"Hey, kid," I say, not knowing what else to say.

"I hide here," she says.

"Huh?"

"I said, I hide here. When Penelope is out working. She scares me," she confesses, with childlike honesty.

I scoff. "Oh boi, she scares me too,"

Her lips curve slightly, as if she wanted to smile but is not sure she's supposed to.

"Sorry about barging in on your hiding place, kid," I say, wiping a tear from my cheek.

Amy shrugs.

"That's okay. Nobody hides alone because they want to," she says, and sits down next to me.

"Why are you wet?" she asks, and I'm surprised her first question wasn't: why are you naked?

"Oh. I had an...incident in the shower."

"Did someone do something to you?"

I shift nervously.

"Yeah...something like that."