What's a Girl to Do? (Season 6)

Chapter One: Angel Eyes

I am uncuffed as soon as we arrive at the station, where someone mercifully takes care of my bleeding nose before I am hauled back like a common criminal and fingerprinted. They restrain my arm and forefinger as they do so, and I wonder if they really think I'd run at this point. I am numb as I am ushered over to that godforsaken height chart, where I am told to stare into the camera so that they can take my mugshot. However, I find that, in my numbness, I am frozen, unable to move unless bended to their will, and although I make no moves to cry, I find that being devoid of emotion is better than anything else.

"Gallagher!" the photographer quips, obviously wanting to get home for the night.

My eyes immediately raise upwards at the stranger shouting my surname, and the camera flashes then, momentarily blinding me. As I feel woozy for a moment, the officer steps forward, placing a firm hand on my shoulder, where I am taken down the hallway towards another room. I look up then at the imposing woman standing guard, and the officer leaves us alone, whereupon the woman shoves me into the room.

"You're going to strip," she tells me, snapping on a glove before shutting the door with her free hand. "Then, you're going to bend over."

Christ, I thought to myself, but as I move to turn around, the woman narrows her eyes at me, so I remain where I was, going towards the buttons of my white blouse, slightly stained with my blood, unbuttoning them as quickly as I dared. Once my blouse was removed, the woman snapped out with her claw-like hands and took it, and then I moved onto my skirt, stepping out of it quickly. Next, I unhooked my bra and hooked my fingers into my panties, removing them and mutely handing them over to the woman.

"Bend over," the woman said, obviously growing impatient with me.

I gritted my teeth, facing away from her then and doing my best to focus upon the wall in front of me as I bent my knees. The teeth gritting helped, and distracted me from crying; I would not allow myself to be considered weak, although I felt myself stumbling ever so slightly then as she stuck her fingers inside me, and I'd never felt more violated in my life. Sure, it was this woman's job to do things like this, but, in that moment, I didn't care. I'd done nothing wrong, and I was still being treated like a common criminal.

"Get up," the woman says, and issues me a white pair of panties, a white sports bra, and a burnt-colored prison jumpsuit.

"Really?" I asked, the word escaping my mouth before I could call it back.

The woman narrowed her eyes at me, assuring me that she wasn't shitting me, and I'd better obey her, and quickly. She handed over the clothes, which I promptly pulled over my head and stepped into, and she curled her lip slightly—she really didn't like me. She then handed over a pair of white socks and sneakers, waiting for me to tie the laces as she checked her phone—man, everyone in here had a vendetta against me, didn't they?

"You'll get your schedule and work assignment tomorrow," the woman said as we left that room, and I was immediately relieved that we had done so. "It's too late to have a shower, but you'll be all right until the morning. Unless, of course, you make bail," she said, obviously knowing that I was South Side, and unlikely to make bail, but boy, was she wrong. "Here we are—the palace suite," she said, her tone sarcastic as we stepped into a room, filled with dozens upon dozens of rows of beds. She got two thin blankets from a cupboard on the wall, which she had to unlock via a padlock first, before shutting it up again and handing over the blankets to me—I vaguely detected a pillow somewhere in the mix as we walked along. "Here," she said, indicating a free bed, and all the other women around us took me in then, as if I was ripe for the taking. "Lights out in ten minutes, girls!" she said, walking out of there.

"What you in for?" asked another woman, whose bed was across from mine.

I lowered my eyes. "Aiding and abetting."