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Apr 17, 2010 16:51:51 GMT -5
Post by Sammy on Apr 17, 2010 16:51:51 GMT -5
The infirmary had been nice. She'd never really been in an actual hospital before - not to her memory, at least. She was at least semi-certain that she'd been born in a hospital - and she'd never really met any doctors before. The woman that had treated her today was kind and professional. Sammy couldn't really remember her name, though she was sure it had been said and it'd probably been printed somewhere. She wished she'd paid better attention to that, but, as nice as she'd found the infirmary to be, she'd been somewhere far away from it. It had been clean and warm in the room she'd been brought to, the doctor had been tender as she cleaned cuts and examined bruises, but her head had been in a dark and filthy storage shed. The gentle caresses of latex gloves across slight injuries had been nothing compared to the harsh embrace of another woman. It had been terrifying, and confusing. She'd been pushed down and brought back up again, a change of pace that was still consuming her.
She'd been small on the bed, hunched over and wary. There'd been bruises on her jaw, along her throat. Fingerprints had been wrapped about her wrists, forearms, upperarms. There'd been scrapes where she'd been pushed to the ground. She'd kept her mouth shut when asked who had done this to her. Dark eyes had focused anywhere but on the concerned face watching her, her lips had pursed together and no words had left her. She was too confused, uncertain of how she felt about the whole thing. It had been a rollercoaster, up and down and back up again.
So far away from herself and the sterile room around her, she hadn't even been aware that the doctor had left the room until she was coming back. She felt a little lost when faced with the time lapse, but she was distracted by the cold grasp of handcuffs as a CO came into her attention. She blinked down at the restraints, struggling to pick up the pieces of the present and return to it. She had no excuse for being this out of it. The doctor had already said there was no concussion.
With one arm holding tightly to her upper arm, Sammy was led down the corridor back towards the general population. She kept her head tucked down and she kept herself close to the guard beside her, finding a sense of security in his position of authority. He had a gun, he had a taser, he had training, it was his job to keep her safe. She was naíve enough to believe he cared about that. The trip from the infirmary was long and lonely. The closer they got to their destination, the more scared she became. It manifested itself as a weight on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Her throat felt tight and that didn't help matters. Emotional lead tugged at her ankles, making her drag her feet and the scrape of her pant leg against the ground was the only noise breaking the silence.
That is, until they got closer to where they needed to be.
The noise coming from general population made it clear that it was tier time. Prisoners were out and about, as free as they could be in Fox River. Even closer, she could see bodies moving through the grate in the door. Blue and white masses, laughing and shouting and a having a damned good time. It seemed strange, out of place in such a confined place, but it was nice. Heartwarming, in its own way, but it terrified her nonetheless. That woman would be in there, that woman from the storage shed that was continuing to haunt her, and she wasn't ready to face her. She didn't know how she felt, she didn't know how to respond, and her bruises throbbed in sympathy as she was led mercilessly along. The guard didn't take her to her cell, he wasn't so kind. He pushed her inside and locked the door behind her. She pressed herself tight into a corner, eyes barely peeking up through thick lashes to peer up at the masses milling about her. People had looked and rejected her presence, returning to their conversations without pause. Nibbling at her lip, she found the clearest path to her cell and shoved herself forward, taking the opportunity while it was open.
[tag: Mama! ]
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Apr 19, 2010 13:21:31 GMT -5
Post by Mama on Apr 19, 2010 13:21:31 GMT -5
Mama paced in her cell back and forth. Normally during tier time she could be seen working her business: coercing more women into her gang, gaining the interest of new clients, keeping the bonds with old ones still active. For the past while however, Mama had done very little of this. She made appearances every now and then, but for the most part her duties had been delegated to her second-in-command, Slash. How could she keep her mind on her livelihood at a time like this? How could she focus on anything when every minute, waking and sleeping, her thoughts were with that small, child-like woman in the infirmary.
Mama reached one end of her cell and did an about turn, pacing back to the other end. She chewed nervously on her nails as she went, wincing as her teeth made contact with the raw tender skin – all her nails were chewed to the quick. How could this happen? How could she not recognize her own sister, even if it had been thirty odd years since she’d seen her? Shouldn’t she have felt that Sammy was her sister as soon as she met her? Mama stopped her pacing to drop her head into her hands. The more she thought about it the more Mama became convinced that the young woman was in fact her own sister, Samantha Barker, from so long ago. It had now reached such a point that Mama couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it sooner; couldn’t believe she had allowed herself to lead that poor girl to the shed… Above anything else she longed desperately to turn back time and stop herself from attacking poor Samantha.
“Mama! Mama, she’s back!” Candace, Mama’s cell mate skidded into the cell, her chest rising and falling. She must have run all the way here. “I watched for her Mama, and I saw that girl come back alright.”
Mama spun, moving faster than she had done in days, and crossed the cell to grab Candace’s shirt collar and jerk the smaller woman close. “You’re sure? If you’re liein’ ta me Candace, I swear-I swear I’ll-I’ll-”
“I ain’t liein’ Mama, I saw her with my own eyes. She’s in her cell now.”
Mama’s dark eyes jumped past Candace as she realized the woman and moved to the front of her cell, scanning frantically for cell twenty-two. Mama’s eyes locked onto it quickly and then she was moving, shoving herself through the thick mass of bodies. She didn’t care who she bumped into, she was desperate to get to get that cell. She had to get to that cell.
Mama bounded up the stairs and hurried forward. All sense of her predatory stroll; the casual swing of her hips and the confidant smirk were gone. In this moment Mama was nothing more than a simple woman sick with grief and shame.
She was slightly out of breath by the time she reached cell twenty-two, and she braced her hands on the cell door way. “Sammy.” The spoken name was no louder than a whisper, filled with regret. Mama willed the woman to turn around and face her, though a large part of her was terrified of the hatred she might find in her eyes.
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Apr 20, 2010 17:48:41 GMT -5
Post by Sammy on Apr 20, 2010 17:48:41 GMT -5
The stairs had probably been the hardest obstacle to tackle in her journey back to her cell, requiring her to keep on eye on the steps and make sure she didn't run into anyone on the way up, but luck was on her side. She made it and she felt able to breathe once she crossed the threshold into the small room.
For a moment, all she could do was stand there, hands in front of her and tugging the hem of her shirt. She wrung the fabric in her grip with nerves, brown eyes looking over the space that was now her own. She'd had the opportunity to see it only once before she'd been sent to the infirmary. It felt like the first time now.
Her feet shuffled lightly against the ground as she carefully picked her way across the cell. She came to the sink where her personal belongings had been, the simple toothbrush and haircomb that had been allowed to her. They were gone. She pursed her lips to the side and reached out to idly stroke her fingertips over the empty metal space, her gaze drifting over to the other side of the sink to take in the toiletries that belonged to her cell mate. There was a light hum in the back of her throat as she considered these details before dismissing them to the back of her mind. She retracted her hand back to herself, filling her palm with the grip of her shirt once more.
Her curious gaze slid away from the shallow basin to fly up to the small window offered. The thick glass was dirty, fogged with condensation, but the sun still peeked through and she'd probably still get a nice view to the outside if she could get up there. She didn't bother to take the time to find a way just now, there'd be time for that later. She looked over the concrete of the empty walls and the fixture of the toilet.
She was just about to check if she was still on the bottom bunk when a figure filled up the doorway and breathless gasps filled the quiet of the confined space. Her eyes snapped up to the woman, wide and nervous, taking in the familiar details of a stranger that had attacked her and cared for her in the same stretch of time. It had been an intense moment. She could remember her heart pounding and pulse racing with the fear of uncertainty. As if the memories held some kind of power to bring history into the present, she could feel it happening to her all again.
Somehow, her large doe eyes remained up on the woman's face, uncertain and wary. Concern creased her brow. Her muscles felt tense, as if prepared to run and unaware that there was no room to escape. Her hands tightened into anxious fists around the fabric of her shirt hem, pulling it tight across her front and wrinkling it tragically, but she couldn't think about that. She couldn't care about how small and fragile she looked, how utterly terrified and suspicious. She could only think about the woman in front of her, watching her every movement and strangely eager to know what would happen next, if only for the mercy of getting to the end rather than having to suffer this endless suspense.
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Apr 24, 2010 1:32:35 GMT -5
Post by Mama on Apr 24, 2010 1:32:35 GMT -5
Mama watched Sammy turn as if it was in slow motion. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she saw her sweet forehead wrinkle with concern, her doe-like eyes shining with uncertainty. She watched the girl grip at her shirt, pulling it until it was woefully stretched and wrinkled. Mama’s heart skipped and dropped as Sammy sunk in on herself, looking more wretched and terrified with every passing second. That look crushed Mama. It was like a sharp blow to the stomach, knocking the breath from her body and all the carefully planned words, the apologies, the promises; they all seemed so useless now. Worse than useless, they seemed false.
Mama’s gaze dropped as she caught sight of the faint bruises that peeked out from under Sammy’s sleeves, decorating her skinny wrists an ugly green and yellow. Her eyes lifted again and she winced noticeably at the collection of marks along the girl’s jaw and around her throat. Mama dreaded to think of the other bruises she had left, knowing there to be plenty more. She felt each one, as if the blows Sammy had received were delivered back at the older woman, and her arms dropped from the doorway of the cell to hang at her sides. Mama couldn’t meet Sammy’s gaze, feeling the accusation that was hidden in her suspicious stare.
“Oh Sammy, what have I done?” The whispered words were choked and strained. The sudden realization that she had likely ruined everything that could possibly ever matter flooded her. She felt breathless and wide-eyed, desperate for this to be a dream, a joke, a misunderstanding, hardly able to believe it as reality. Her wishes and her longing to fix the situation melted away into a multitude of frantic needs: she needed to explain herself, she needed to make Sammy understand, she needed to make everything okay, she needed Sammy to forgive her. On and on it went, an endless spiral of agitated musts that rendered her speechless, and all the while she had one clear thought, one desperate plea: ‘please, God, this can’t be happening to me.’
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Apr 26, 2010 17:12:33 GMT -5
Post by Sammy on Apr 26, 2010 17:12:33 GMT -5
The woman seemed as tall and terrifying as she'd been in the tool shed that evening however many days ago, but then she spoke and details made themselves a little clearer as the seconds passed between them. The plea was so weak, puny and suffocated. The lady suddenly seemed wilted in front of her, a crumbled figure miles away from the tyrant she'd been before. Confusion creased Sammy's brow as she studied her with dark eyes, her lips parting slightly as she breathed in and stood her ground, wary and yet feeling something inside of her reaching out beyond her ability to control.
That day in the shed rang vividly in her mind. She'd been so scared. Her heart had pounded with spastic motions inside of her chest, making her hurt. She'd been deaf and blind, blood roaring in her ears and trapped in the shadows as she'd tried to protect herself. Her body had curled in against the pain, fragile and it had crumpled beneath the blows delivered to her. It had been mindless violence, something she couldn't understand. She'd thought a great deal while in the infirmary, taking advantage of the lucid moments between drug induced stupors and the nightmares, and she'd still been unable to find what she'd done wrong. It was the only reason she could figure for the attack against herself, she'd done something out of place. The concept of aggression for the sake of it or beyond her control wasn't something that she could grasp easily or at all. The incident had plagued her every moment, bruised and scarred her in ways that went beyond the surface, and it was all because of this woman. This woman that stood weak and vulnerable in front of her, begging with her eyes and diminished with her whispers.
In swift bounds, she rushed forward.
And slid her scrawny arms about the stranger in a tight hug, her head nestled against her chest and her eyes squeezed shut as she clung to her attacker. Broken things had always been her weakness, striking against her need to care, and this woman seemed absolutely shattered. She seemed a creature without threats, a beaten puppy that couldn't help but bite out of instinct, and it made her that much more easy to forgive. The woman had been kind then too, Sammy couldn't dare to forget that. She'd been embraced, held and kissed, and Mama was the reason she'd made it to the infirmary in the first place. She had to be grateful, she had to keep it in mind, it showed care and love. "I'm sorry..." she whispered, keeping her eyes shut as she listened to the beat of a heart beneath her ear. She couldn't forget the kindness anymore than she could forget that the attack had to have come from some wrongdoing on her part.
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Apr 26, 2010 22:55:58 GMT -5
Post by Mama on Apr 26, 2010 22:55:58 GMT -5
If Mama could take back every one of those wounds, if she could heal any of those scars, she would have done so instantly. If she could protect Sammy from the world, including herself she would have done so; if it meant tearing herself away from the most precious thing in her world then so be it, for Sammy’s sake she would do so. But first she needed forgiveness, she needed to be understood, she needed redemption simply because Mama wasn’t a saint. She was selfish and cruel and she forced herself into Sammy’s company because she couldn’t bear to be without it. Even when she was aware of the pain she was further causing the young woman, Mama didn’t turn away. She would, eventually, when she knew there was no hope left she would leave, if Sammy asked her too. But it would hurt. God, it would near kill her.
With Sammy’s soft intake of breath Mama’s eyelids fluttered nervously. Her thoughts were unwillingly thrown back to the tool shed; replaying the memory in halting skips and stutters as she fought to suppress it. She momentarily wondered at her own monstrosity, sickened to the core by her own vileness before she succeeded to shove away the taunting thoughts. Mama had always known she was cruel; it was that kind of ruthlessness that she admired about herself. She hadn’t survived a life on the streets by being kind, just as she hadn’t survived in Fox River and successfully started and led her own gang by being thoughtful or gentle. When necessity called for it Mama could pose empathy, she could cajole and make nice, but these emotions were rarely truly felt. They were a means to an end. She felt much more at home with her negative traits: her selfishness, her baseness, her greed and her lust, these were all things she had become accustomed to feeling and she knew how to best react accordingly when feeling them. However, in this moment, with the consequence of her actions causing the wariness in an otherwise innocent pair of brown eyes, Mama was forced to recognize her brutality not as the useful survival weapon it had been in the past, but the sword on which she had fallen.
Mama once again pushed back those horrible truths that threatened to undo her. Her mind scrambled to find justification for her actions, for her way of being. In this circumstance however, reasoning was hard found with that poor, wretched soul staring silently at her from across the cell. The silence had stretched for several minutes now, and while the space between them was marked by only a few steps, it felt as though a chasm had opened between them.
Mama’s head jerked up at the sudden flurry of moment, and her wide eyes had time to register Sammy flying forward before the small woman was flung against her. Her head was buried against the older woman’s chest, her arms squeezing Mama tight, forcing the breath from her body. Mama was slow to react, shocked by the sudden display of affection, hesitant to accept it in case it wasn’t what it appeared to be.
“I’m sorry…” The softly whispered words were muffled against her clothing, but they reached Mama’s ears none the less and she felt something within her give way for the second time. She wrapped her arms around Sammy, gathering the small woman against her in a tight embrace.
“Oh no, no baby, I’m sorry. Don’t you be sorry, it’s me. It’s all me.” Mama leant down to rest her cheek against Sammy’s head, the scent of the prison issued shampoo filling her nose. “I’m just so glad ya’ll right, and I’m sorry honey; I’m so sorry.” The tears that hadn’t fallen before now splashed freely down her cheeks to land in Sammy’s hair. She paused in her babbling to kiss the side of Sammy’s head fervently, continuing to press her sister against her for fear that if she let go the young woman might pull away. She wouldn’t lose her sister again, not after she had just won her back, not ever.
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Apr 28, 2010 18:57:51 GMT -5
Post by Sammy on Apr 28, 2010 18:57:51 GMT -5
Relief flooded the small woman as those arms finally wrapped around her in return. They enveloped her completely and held her close, warm and safe and strong. She squeezed her dark eyes shut to plunge herself in darkness so that all she had was the feeling of being cradled. The pound of that heartbeat beneath her ear was a soothing comfort, a lullaby that untied all her twisted nerves. The shaky breathing of Mama made her want to cry too, but she refused to ease her tightly closed eyes and the tears couldn't come through.
The words that trickled their way down into her ears were kind and sweet, breaking down a number of defensive walls inside of Sammy. She couldn't understand their purpose or their motive. She couldn't grasp any earthly reason why this woman would so desperately want to hold her and care for her, but it was affection all the same and she craved it. She could only gather that Mama was truly as nice as she'd appeared at first, she was warm and gentle, and the incident definitely had been her fault. It had to be. Kind women were not cruel for no reason.
She tried to hug Mama tighter. She tried to pull herself closer, but space no longer existed between the two. The grip around her was so firm that she could imagine they'd melt into one person at any moment, that the woman was trying to pull her into her body. The kiss against her head was rough and needy, and Sammy loved it. "I don't know what I did wrong," she continued, her voice tiny and uncertain, but desperate to understand and eager to please. She fell deeper into a pit she'd be unable to crawl out of safely, and she had absolutely no idea of it.
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Apr 30, 2010 16:31:17 GMT -5
Post by Mama on Apr 30, 2010 16:31:17 GMT -5
Those desperate words reminded Mama of how tiny and fragile the young woman in her arms was, and she shushed her gently, stroking her dark hair with one hand. “You didn’t do anything, Sammy, ya hear me? It was a...a misunderstanding. That’s all.” Mama’s voice hesitated as she almost conceded her own faults, but something in her held back as she felt Sammy giving way more and more. Now that she had been forgiven Mama no longer wanted to explain herself, largely in fear of pushing Sammy away again. “But it’s all been cleared up now, right? We’re gonna be okay. Ain’t nothin’ like that’s gonna happen again, I promise.”
Mama’s accented voice was quick and desperate, her voice catching after each pause as though she were afraid at any moment that Sammy might pull away from her. She was unused to feeling so vulnerable, so frantic for the love of another that Mama found herself clinging to Sammy just as surely as Sammy was clinging to her. These emotions were powerful, stronger than her hatred – something that the Southern woman hadn’t considered possible before, and it frightened Mama.
“We’re gonna be okay,” she repeated in a gentle whisper, drawing in a few deep shuddering breaths. Her silence was broken by her soft breaths and the gentle susurrastions as she stroked Sammy’s hair, rocking her gently. Mama was quite sure she could have stayed like that all day, happy to hold the woman she believed was her long lost sister. However, she was also becoming more and more aware that Fox River was a very public place where each and every inmate had lost their right to privacy. She gently patted Sammy’s back before reluctantly pulling away, placing her hands on the young woman’s shoulders.
“Oh Sammy, you grew up so beautiful.” Mama smiled as she watched her little sister’s face, greedily drinking in all the details that made her the woman she was today. There were certain details that surprised Mama somewhat, as she remembered Sammy’s smiling seven year old face and compared it to the Sammy in front of her. She brushed them off easily however as the fault of a poor memory and the course of nature. After all when people grew up they changed, Mama couldn’t expect to find a seven year old's features in a twenty something year old's body.
The Southern woman lifted a hand to gently brush a strand of hair from Sammy’s face, letting her hand stop to cup her cheek tenderly. “I’m so proud of you.”
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May 3, 2010 19:28:48 GMT -5
Post by Sammy on May 3, 2010 19:28:48 GMT -5
Worry creased her brow even as she refused to open her eyes, confusion dwelling in her gut as she tried to understand what was being explained to her. A misunderstanding? Her mind scrambled and scattered in the attempt to dissect and grasp, finally coming to the simple conclusion that she'd said or did something in such a way that had left it open to negative interpretation. Her actions and words from that day, once so vivid and startlingly clear, were now vague and it felt impossible to pull them up again for retrospect.
Oh well, she didn't need to reminesce on it anymore, she had answers and assurance. It was all she needed, and it was easy to convince herself of this while wrapped up in warmth and love, overwhelming affection that she also didn't need explained. She accepted the promise without delay, offering a weak squeeze of her arms about the older woman in response.
She didn't want to believe the grip around her was dissipating. If she could have, she'd have cemented the entire moment to keep them just as they were, wrapped up tight in each other with kisses against her hair and whispered comforts on their lips. She wanted to chase Mama as she pulled away, but the firm weight on her shoulders was enough to bring sense to her neediness as she leaned her weight onto the heels of her feet and allowed her body to stand straight. Her small hands rested awkwardly on the soft swell of Mama's hips, her dark eyes focused down on them as her fingers curled into the fabric of the woman's shirt so she could hold on in a tender cling.
The tone of her skin held a natural tan, olive and smooth, and it hid the blush that crept deeply into her cheeks at the heartfelt compliment. She'd received little praise in her years and she drank it up as eagerly as if she'd found water after a long trek in the desert, grin stretching wide and careful upon her thin lips as she stared up at the older woman with open adoration. She didn't question the peculiar phrasing, found nothing suspicious or odd about it in the slightest, either because she was as stupid as her Grandmother had always told her she was or because she was too desperate to believe it.
Never before had she made someone proud, she was certain. Not her mother, not her grandmother. A prostitute had smiled and been grateful to come home to a meal that she was often too tired to consume, but she'd never told Sammy that she was proud. A crack addict had whispered that he'd be proud of her if she did as she was told and got him the money he needed, but she'd messed it up and was now here, he was certainly not proud of her for her failure. But Mama was proud. For what reason, Sammy didn't know and she wouldn't dare to wonder until much later. She leaned her head against the cool hand that cradled her face, eyes showing larger as they moistened with powerful emotions. Her gaze drifted down into the lower corner of her vision. "I don't know what to do here," she whispered uncertainly, returning her attentions to the woman's face, that worry returning to the lines of her features. "My things are gone," she stated in quick succession, turning away from the hand that cupped her cheek to glance back to the sink, focusing quickly on the empty side of the sink that had once held her measly possessions. A part of her felt guilty, as if she were tattling on the cellmate that she suspected to have taken them, but there'd been no gestures of good will from the intimidating skeleton of a woman that claimed the other side of that sink and so there was no loyalty deserved. She whirled back around, feeling lonely without the hand upon her face any longer, dark eyes looking up to the Southern woman for guidance and reassurance and perhaps yet more affection.
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May 6, 2010 13:28:40 GMT -5
Post by Mama on May 6, 2010 13:28:40 GMT -5
Mama smiled at the sight of those emotional, adoring eyes shining up at her, shining for her. Her thumb gently stroked the smooth skin of Sammy’s cheek. She felt the fabric of her shirt be pulled slightly as the young woman’s fingers wove through the material, and Mama reciprocated by squeezing her shoulder gently. If she could have stopped time, frozen it on this single moment of her life, Mama would have. It was perhaps the happiest she had ever felt, and staring into her sister’s sweet face she longed to pull her back into her arms and hold her once more. It had been so long since she’d felt this kind of love without feeling the knife wounds of regret and guilt that it left Mama feeling quite speechless, capable of only smiling down at the woman before her.
She watched the change register on Sammy’s face, the uncertainty that bloomed in her eyes and pulled her beautiful smile downwards. Mama frowned as Sammy pulled away to look around, and the Southern woman regretfully let her hand drop back to the young woman’s other shoulder. Her gaze followed Sammy’s to the opposite end of the cell, scanning over the empty sink. Mama’s frown deepened at the poor sight before her, the grimy stainless steel sink devoid of any paraphernalia that made this cold cell just a little more homely. The absence of Sammy’s possessions suddenly seemed tangible to Mama, and it felt bizarre that she should not have noticed before how barren and dejected her sister’s living space appeared. All at once Mama felt the urge to protect, to love and avenge like it was a fire that had been lit in her gut. Someone had stolen from Sammy; someone had dared to steal from her baby sister. Someone was going to pay.
The darkness in Mama’s eyes dissipated as she turned her gaze back to the sweet, lost child before her. A reassuring smile touched her lips as she reached forward to tenderly tuck a strand of hair behind Sammy’s ear. “Don’t worry Princess; I’ll take care of it.”
That still left the other matter unattended to however; Sammy’s lone-wolf status. Mama couldn’t have her out here on her own, unprotected and vulnerable for just about anyone who thought to come along. The mere thought alone was enough to infuriate her and she knew she would have to act quickly if she were to keep her precious Sammy safe.
“I know prison can be scary Sammy, but you gotta believe me when I say I ain’t gonna let nothin’ harm you. Okay?” Mama raised her eyebrows slightly to show that this was serious, and that the young woman should pay close attention. “Durin’ tier time and when we out in the yard, I want you stickin’ close to me. Now this is important Sammy, you gotta promise you ain’t gonna go wanderin’ around by yaself. I don’t….I can’t lose ya again.” Mama’s fingers touched at her sister’s chin gently to tilt it up so that she could look into those wide brown eyes and see that Sammy understood. Mama hated that she had to warn Sammy like this, that the fears and dangers of Fox River had to be consider as real threats, but if this matter wasn’t deal with, if Sammy didn’t know, how could she expect to survive? Leaning forward to press her lips tenderly against the soft skin of Sammy’s forehead Mama wished fervently that there was a way to protect the sweet girl’s innocence.
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Jun 10, 2010 6:48:46 GMT -5
Post by Sammy on Jun 10, 2010 6:48:46 GMT -5
Her heart had always been easy. It was worn on her sleeve, and it didn't take much at all for her to slip it into someone else's pocket. It was stained and scarred with the fingerprints of too many careless people that had been unable to truly comprehend how quickly and how hard the young woman could fall. She'd known Mama for practically no time at all, the length of their interactions then and now likely accumulated to no more than an hour at best, but she could feel it starting already. She leaned into the kind touches and swallowed up the praises without question. Her cheeks ached with grinning and her troubles were immediately given to the older woman in the hopes of having them fixed. She was eager to please, she wanted to nurture. Already, she felt knee-deep in what thousands upon thousands of people strived to feel every day.
Love. And all because the Southerner had called her Princess.
The bright flash of her grin slowly began to dim with the sudden grim sincerity that overtook the woman. It slipped off her features to be replaced with a loose line of concentration, her dark eyes wide and focused on the face staring back at her. The smile briefly returned, light and pleasant at the corners of her lips, as she nodded slightly. "Okay..." Indeed, she believed. Mama wouldn't let anything harm her, nothing at all. If she kept on her toes and remained on her best behaviour, watched everything she said and did, Mama wouldn't have any reason to touch her with anything other than the sweetness in which she touched her with now.
However, the strict tone returned, signalling significance in what was being said, and Sammy dropped the smile so she could concentrate again, taking each and every word and struggling to push it somewhere in her head where she wouldn't lose or forget it. Tier time and out in the yard, she was to stick close to Mama. She wasn't to go anywhere on her own, ever. It seemed easy, a simple thing to accomplish. Surely she'd never forget that and, even if she did, certainly it wouldn't matter any because why would she ever want to go anywhere on her own? Why would she ever want to leave Mama's side? The gentle fingers that touched to her chin were heartwrenching, and she tipped her chin up as directed, her forehead creasing with concern once more. The kiss smoothed it out, but the worry remained, and her eyes slid shut with contentment. Mama loved her too. " 'Course, I promise."
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Jul 4, 2010 21:57:25 GMT -5
Post by Mama on Jul 4, 2010 21:57:25 GMT -5
Those words were all that Mama needed to hear. That singular promise allowed for the tension to leave her shoulders and the Southern woman breathed a sigh of relief. It was different from the other promises, those extracted oaths of obedience and servitude. Mama knew that Sammy would obey, but not because the older woman was posing as a mistress, but because she was reaching out as a caring older sister; that when she told the young woman to do something it was out of genuine love and concern. It was a streak of purity in the woman’s otherwise filthy soul.
“Good,” Mama murmured gently. Another thought struck the woman and she pulled away slightly to catch Sammy’s sweet gaze once more. “One more thing Princess: ya cain’t call me Kylie in here. Okay? Everybody else calls me Mama so that’s what ya gonna have ta do to. I know, I know it seems strange,” Mama waved a hand in the air as she spoke, “but trust me. It’ll just be safer this way.”
She stopped to smile down at the woman she believed to be her baby sister, cradling her cheek tenderly in one hand. “Enough rules,” she said, wrinkling her nose comically. “C’mon n’sit with me Princess, tell me what you’ve been up to before all this.” She moved to sit on the bottom bunk, patting the thin mattress invitingly.
Looking up at Sammy, Mama’s dark eyes shimmered with happiness. “We have so much to catch up on.” Never had such false words felt more true.
[*cries* forgive me, Mama was being difficult tonight! If you don't have enough to reply to I totally understand, lemmie know and I'll patch it up as best I can!]
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Reunion
Jul 12, 2010 7:34:10 GMT -5
Post by Sammy on Jul 12, 2010 7:34:10 GMT -5
[Totally forgiven, it was lovely! As usual!]
Sammy caught the woman’s eyes easily, holding them as if they were the most precious thing in the world – and for her, perhaps they were. It was a fantastic feeling when Mama looked at her like that, sweet and loving and beautiful. Like she was worth something. It was a feeling she’d not experienced enough of in her short days.
The rule made her frown though, her features twisting down and together in confusion. She couldn’t call her Kylie? Had she even known that was the woman’s name? It seemed a peculiar request to make of her when she’d had no intention of calling her Kylie in the first place. Mama was right, it certainly did seem strange! She nodded with a bit of hesitance though, glancing to the dismissive gesture and then back up to the woman. The last bit she could understand perfectly. Trust Mama and it’d be safer. Absolutely. “Okay.” She repeated, now nodding more firmly to get across that she understood. She wouldn’t call the woman Kylie, never ever. It’d always be Mama.
She beamed as lightness seemed to return to the atmosphere between them, an atmosphere that had somehow managed to grow dark and grim with all the talk of dangers and needs. She wrinkled her nose too with endearing mimickry of the older woman, a soft fit of laughter escaping her with their silliness. Obediently, she leaped to attention to sit next to Mama, plopping herself down on the mattress perhaps closer than need be so she could affectionately lean her side against the Southern woman, looking up to her with her own overwhelming sense of happiness.
She grinned and ducked her head down to hide the blush that crept into her cheeks, hidden by her tan skin. ‘So much to catch up on’ – it was an odd way to put that they had to get know one another, but Mama said a lot of odd things. It was just one among many and Sammy deciphered it appropriately so they could move along without a hitch. She flowed with it and felt smart for figuring out the weird way that Mama phrased normal things. “Well, what do you wanna know?” She asked, raising her eyebrows so she could look up to the lady with her big brown eyes and smitten smile.
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Reunion
Aug 20, 2010 14:09:22 GMT -5
Post by Mama on Aug 20, 2010 14:09:22 GMT -5
Mama's smile widened at the sight of the secret blush that touched at Sammy's tan skin. There was such beautiful innocence to the girl sitting beside her, with her head resting agaisnt the older woman's shoulder and looking up at her with those lovely, soulful eyes. It was a characterstic that was unique and unsurprisingly rare within Fox River's cold walls and Mama felt an overwhelming responsibility to love and protect the sweet thing that was curled up against her. Ironic really, when you thought about the innocence that Mama had snatched from countless others.
"I wanna know everythin'," the Southern woman replied, linking her arm through Sammy's affectionatly. "What've ya been doin' all these years?" Mama specifically didn't ask how it was Sammy had come to be incarcerated. Things between them were only today patched up and made better, Mama didn't want to go ruining it by insensitively asking about, what was for many, a traumatic experience. Still, she was achingly curious to know how her baby sister had survived all these years. Part of her dreaded to hear the answer, knowing how she herself had struggled, but a greater part of her had to know. She could only hope that if her sweet sister had suffered it had been only a small degree.
Looking at her; those big brown eyes, that shy smile, Mama couldn't believe that anyone could want to do wrong to so adorable and pure a person. But Fox River and her earlier years hadn't taught her nothing - sometimes people sought out that particular spark of naivety. Sammy seemed to be retaining her wholesomeness however, and Mama hoped that that was the case, that whatever had happened in Sammy's younger years had not left any degrading scars upon an otherwise perfect young soul.
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Reunion
Sept 2, 2010 7:18:36 GMT -5
Post by Sammy on Sept 2, 2010 7:18:36 GMT -5
‘All these years’ covered a lot of ground; twenty four of them, to be exact! Twenty four years entailed a lot of things to be done. Did Mama truly want to hear all of it? As her dark eyes drifted aside thoughtfully, she thought of her mother and her grandmamma. She thought of schooling and the closet and running away, but those were such dark topics. The people had been mean, the work had been hard, and escaping it had been more difficult than she would have thought. She’d had to make more than one attempt! It had been ridiculous, so, no, those weren’t the things to talk about. Mama was a beautiful and happy woman when she’d not been wronged, her love was strong and Sammy soaked in it; she wanted to talk about good things, good years.
Nibbling at her lip, her grin grew and she ducked her head to look down at her fidgeting fingers. “Well, just living, I guess.” She replied, her voice sweet and feminine and immensely meek. Twisting her hands, she shrugged her thin shoulders up and tilted her head. “Um… for a long while, I lived with this other lady. She was really nice. Her name was Tracey? And she took care’a me– well, we took care’a each other, mostly, I took care of her house and …it was really nice, I liked her, but she never came back home one day and this mean man kicked me out, so…” She explained, her big brown eyes continuing to stare down at her hands as she reminisced. Sadly, the happy story ended on a bad note, one that she worked to skim over as quickly as possible, and she swiftly racked her brain from something happier to mention. There was the man that kept her warm for a whole night! And she took a breath to launch into the tale – before she tightened her lips as she remembered the awful way she’d surely disappointed him afterwards. Hmm.
Finally, she released her breath as a strong chuckle, grin brightening up her features with her awkward self-consciousness as she shook her head and waved a hand up dismissively. Picking her head up, she finally looked back over to Mama. “There’s really nothing else interesting to tell. Nothing that great. What about you, what have you been doing?” She questioned in turn, tossing the ball back into Mama’s court. Maybe if Mama told her a few things, she could gain a better idea of what the older woman wanted to hear and she could provide more for her! It seemed an infallible plan to the naïve girl.
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