DISCLAIMER: Much to my chagrin, I don't own any of these characters. Property of SHED Productions.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written as part of the Alphabet Soup Challenge.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
A Clean Shot
By coolbyrne
I was never one for seeking out privileges in here. At the end of the day, it's all the same, innit? Whether we're on Basic, General or Enhanced, we're all banged up in this place; though I suppose one could say my opinion comes from a privilege of its own. A "privilege" of being a lifer that got me my own space. I don't have to sleep with one eye open, worrying about being shivved in the middle of the night for my meagre possessions. I have to laugh at this despite the reality of that particular risk –cons did get stuck on a fairly regular basis –they just wouldn't get much out of me besides my books.
And yet, as I look down from my newfound perch on Enhanced, I can see the appeal. Looking down from this height, even surrounded by concrete and steel, there's a certain sense of freedom. There's also a certain sense of control, if you're into that sort of thing as well. Certainly Shell Dockley is. I see her lazily bent over the railing, looking down and surveying her kingdom like Queen bloody Victoria. For her, this hierarchy means more than a bigger cell and better duvet. For her, it's representative of her station in Larkhall –she's at the top of the food chain and every one below her is, well, beneath her. Her predatory eyes scan for the weak ones and her hunter's heart coolly takes notes for future "kills"; the eyes take in everyone and don't miss a thing.
Not for the first time do I recognize the sharp contrast between Dockley and me that goes beyond our physical differences. She has created something resembling a life in Larkhall and I can only dream of a life outside of it. Her position requires her to be interested in the comings and goings of everyone. Me? I'm only interested in one person.
As if summoned by simple thought (I'll have to try that in the wee hours of the night), I catch a glimpse of you, and lean to appreciate this spot even more. From here I can watch as you stop for a quick laugh with the Julies and a quiet word with Monica. It doesn't take a map maker to figure out which direction you're taking and where you're intending to go. Pleased, I sit back from my blind and wait. Slowly, you begin to appear on the stairs, one step at a time, and when you see me, your smile gets me through another day. It would come as a surprise to everyone but you that I don't have the nerves of a hunter. I will my heart to slow down and pray the connection between my mouth and brain is still working.
"Enjoying your view?" you ask with a playful grin.
"Very much," I reply with more aplomb than I thought I could manage. You have the decency not to laugh out at the well-worn double entendre.
"Well, I just wanted to see how you were getting on with your newfound placement."
I look around. "Yeah, well, it doesn't have the view of the ocean I had hoped for, but I suppose one can't have everything."
You curiously tilt your head. "You don't think so?" When I return the look with one of my own, you lean in and say, "I'll bring a nice print next time I come round. Any ocean in particular you'd like?"
I grin like an idiot. No, I'm certainly not the hunter-type. You on the other hand… I wonder if you know how easily you've captured my heart?
The End