“Open cell block 17C” The officer maintained a tight grip on Deidre’s arm, though the younger woman had no intention of pulling away. Where would she go? There was a loud buzzing sound as someone else pressed a button, and the door opened. Though Deidre had jumped the first time, she wasn’t quite as skittish anymore, not to these sounds. The officer released her arm and Deidre walked into the small cell, then turned around briskly to place her hands in the larger gap in the bars as it closed once more. The officer placed a key in the slot, turned it, and then pressed her thumb print on the scanner to tell the chip inside of the cuffs that it was, in fact, an officer removing them. 

The officer walked away, and Deidre watched her for a few feet before she turned to face her roommate. They were dressed alike in white clothing, a color reserved for punitive purposes like this. Color was a part of freedom, the color of one’s clothing helping to distinguish their social class. Children wore the colors of their parents, unless they were unaffiliated with a social tier, like Deidre. Adults wore colors and patterns determined by their role in society, and their station within that role. For example, a new teacher might wear a suit with a blue streak down the side, the blue indicative of education, but as they grew in experience, their clothing could have more stripes. 

Members of the prison system were stripped of their colors, stripped of the status in the outside world. It was also a place where prisoners, among each other, were equal. The woman with whom Deidre shared this cell had bashed someone’s knee-caps before her incarceration. Her reason? A man grabbed her ass in a bar while she was playing pool. So she smashed the pool cue into his legs repeatedly. Deidre didn’t think it was the worst cell-mate to have. At least this woman had been provoked. And she fully admitted that she had issues with anger. 

“How did it go, Deedee?” Another reason Deidre liked her roommate, Rhonda, was that the woman was actually polite to Deidre. Both of them were probably just glad the other wasn’t completely insane—nor a loud snorer. 

“It was fine.” Deidre answered, moving over towards the mirror on their wall and looking at her reflection. Her gaze flickered to Rhonda, who had raised her razor thin eyebrows as if she was waiting for more information than that. “The public defender will probably be here tomorrow. Or maybe the next day. Officer Bradley said that they tend to stay for a certain duration, and speak to who they can while they are here.” She explained.

“Pft.” Rhonda snorted and shook her head. “That’s the problem with those public defense guys. They don’t really care about you or I. They just work their 9 to 5 and then they go home.” She complained.

Deidre gave a small shrug, and began to pull her hair back into a ponytail, using her fingers to clear it all of knots. That was just the way things were, and there wasn’t any use on dwelling on the things she couldn’t change.

“Do you know when the trial will be?” Rhonda asked.

“No.”

“Shame. You’re too cute for prison.” The older woman grinned cheekily. “Those girls will eat you up.”

Deidre looked over at her roommate once more, chuckling lightly. She finished securing her hair and her lighter smile faded as she looked at her lightly freckled face in the mirror. [i]Am I?[/i] She ran her fingers down the side of her cheek lightly. Perhaps she would need to fix that before the next stages of processing. She didn’t want to stand out when she went to the permanent penitentiary. Her current appearance had fared her well over the last few years. Being cute made her life a bit easier. But here, she might get the wrong sort of attention.

Coming out of her thoughts, Deedee heard that her roommate was still, in fact, talking about what would happen to the younger woman in prison. “…Then again, perhaps that will help you loosen up.” Rhonda laughed. Deidre shook her head lightly and turned away from the mirror, the sight altogether a bit depressing. Moving over to the bunk bed, she put her foot on the edge and hoisted herself easily onto the top bunk, the old metal bed-frame only groaning mildly in protest.