Junk Love.

twenty.

"Damn it." Mel curses at her face, reflecting back at her through a murky mirror streaked with soap stains.

Walking to the jail for visitation took all morning and she didn't have any time to prepare. Now she stands in the public bathroom with barely two minutes to make herself look presentable. Nasty red and purple bruising swells the right side of her face the size of a softball. If Carter sees he'll go ballistic.

After last night, "the elephant" nesting heavily in her brain has retained a succubus quality. Draining all vital functions like a sponge. Although Mel interacts with the world she feels detached from it. Her eyes are dull, glazed over, just the whites with microscopic dark pupils.

Slowly, she pulls her hood over her face. A lackluster disguise but at least only the bruises under her eyes are evident. She could easily play off the dark rings as an accident. If only she weren't so exhausted. Her mouth has lost structure and she fears, even for her lover, she won't be able to summon any sort of smile.

Navigating the hollow corridor, Mel ducks her head and shuffles into the visitation pod avoiding looking at anyone else filing in alongside. The air is sterile, reeking of lemon Pin Sol, and she almost chokes on it. Mel sinks onto the plastic chair feeling small enough to drown in the seat. Her zombie-like state persists with a vacant stare until the hallway beyond the glass swells with inmates.

Straightening in the chair, Mel faces Carter as he sits across from her. She has to wait five seconds for the blue light to flash on the phone just to hear him. Despite the obvious pause, his mouth moving a beat before his voice comes through the speaker, all of earlier's tension seeps from Mel's pores in a nervous sweat. Cleansed again.

"Hi baby." He sounds better than last time, his tilted smile even reaches his eyes.

"Hi goregous." Witnessing him in such bright spirits perks her up, sunshine to a wilted flower. "How've you been?"

"As good as can be expected in this shit hole." Carter softens at that, his eyes deep enough to swim in. "Been reading a lot. There's a Bukowski book I found you might like to check out."

"I can go to the library later today."

Carter tilts his head to the side then starts to rub the stubble darker and thicker on his chin after another week. "What happened to your eye?"

Reflectively Mel touches the spot trying not to wince at the sensitivity. "I slipped at the soup kitchen. Knocked my lights out on the edge of a table."

How lies slip so easily from between her lips. Like slowly setting in poison. Perhaps that's all she'll ever be. Just a street whore oozing toxin in her wake. She's quickly loosing composure, wanting to cringe at the salt in Dalton's tone despite it being only another bad memory now.

"Are you alright?"

It's a genuine question but can have so many answers pined to it. Because of the damned glass barrier between them she doesn't know how to ask for his help. Only understanding that being stuck there behind it, defenseless to wash the salt from her wounds, will wreck him.

"I don't feel safe there anymore." That's the most she dare speak aloud. "I think I might have to look for somewhere else to stay."

"I was actually thinking about that. I'd worry about you a lot less if you weren't on the streets while I'm in here and I have a friend."

"A friend?"

"Her name is Marcella. Remember that Italian restaurant we went to? Go there first he can give you the address."

Mel shifts in her seat. "We didn't exactly leave there on good terms last time."

"Enzo is a curmudgeon. But he was a good friend to my mother and I already told you what a terrible person she was. You'll be fine."

This is unfamiliar. Having someone actually care where she wound up after boning her in a back alley -- drugs or otherwise. Mel bites her lip. "I don't want to be a charity case."

"You won't be." His mouth is taut, set into a thin line as firm as his tone. "They're like family. You're family Mel."

No one has had the decency to call her that. Clutching the phone to her ear like a lifeline she tries not to shake. "I love you Carter."

"I love you too babe." A recorded voice announces the one minute marker fracturing between them as serrated as a blade. "Ask Marcella to pay for a phone call when you get there so I know you're safe."

Wanting to forget her own misery for a little while Mel uses the rest of the time to talk about how he's been. He discusses how it hasn't been easy but he tries to talk only to his bunkie -- keeping out of trouble ya'know my temper -- and that he mostly reads.

"Tell me a story," she says.

As Carter goes into detail about a recent thriller he read she listens intently but gradually his words go static. Raptured, Mel leans as close to the glass as she can briefly feeling close to him again. His hair is longer and sloppy like he's been tugging on the ends in as much of a frenzy as she. The newly rugged look gives him a likeness to the alpha wolf Mel imagines him as.

"I miss you." She's hardly realized she's spoken. Being in his company again has invigorated her with a buzz that, although much different in nature, still makes her body hum.

Unfortunately the phone has already disconnected. Her sentiment falls upon deaf ears. Fuck this blasted system. There's a stirring in her chest watching him stand then blow her a kiss. Like his gesture is splitting her own organs from between her ribs. Seeping always seeping.

Mel doesn't hang the phone back on the hook until he joins the other men in the flashy orange jumpsuits, walking with them around the corner. He takes her heart with him.

Beat-less, she follows fellow family members back into the lobby as obediently as he had followed the inmates. Hardly even flesh anymore Mel travels outside robotically.

Stopping on the front steps Mel braces herself against the building. Without an anchor she shakes incessantly, taking three strikes from the lighter just to ignite the tip of the cigarette between her chapped lips. A long starving drag steadies her enough to think straight again.

Marcella. Although the name curdles in her ears like a bad omen she isn't sure what else to do. Encountering Dalton has clipped her wings. She'd been foolish thinking she could soar into Chinatown under the radar. Time is meaningless to individuals as fucked up as him, she should have known his grudge would last a life time. Silly street whore.

After crushing the smoke under her heel, Mel squares her shoulders then squints at the sun beaming down on her. The heat is dulled by an early morning nip but it's enough to convince her that she is real. She is alive. Time to face the music and start acting like it.

☯