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Caitlyn Darrow

Caitlyn Darrow was a menace to society. She carefree drove home from the grocery store always going below the speed limit. People typically passed her yelling obscenities, but she just combated them with a smile in union with a wave. A billboard caught her blue-green eyes as she slowed down more to read it. The flickering lights from her review mirror pulled her curiosity to it instead. Red, white, and blue. Why not orange? She pulled over to the side of the street humming along to the faint song on the radio.

The sunlight was bright enough to reflect off the officer's badge, but he still insisted on flashing his light in her face.Innocently she blinked up at him and rolled down the window. "Do you know why I stopped you miss?" Caitlyn shook her head almost instantly - no she didn't know why he stopped her. He cleared his throat and pointed to the posted speed limit sign a few meters from them.

"Can you read that sign miss?"
"Yes! It says 45." She cheerfully emitted with a beaming grin.

"You were going 27 ma'am. License and registration." Head canted to the side, but she turned her form sideways to obey the officer. Once the glove compartment box was clicked open. A tennis ball, and multiple squeaky toys scritched forth into the passenger side seat.

Still in a joyous mood, she handed the officer her license and the registration to the car humming along. Oblivious to the fact he eyed the plates on her car, and ignorant that her license had flagged up a bench warrant for her arrest. The officer ducked out of his car and paused for a few seconds to let the other cars roar past. One hand reached behind him to rest on his weapon, he leaned down and startled the gleeful ginger.

"I'm going to need for you to step out of the car ma'am."


"Just step out of the car ma'am."

When she voiced her resistance, the officer took a couple of steps back and lifted his weapon in her direction. "Turn off your engine. Exit your vehicle. Put your hands where I can see them."

The wolfess's orbs focused on the barrel of the pistol and felt the knots tense her shoulders into place. The muscles locking themselves defensively, but she was able to turn the key of the car. Her hees scraped against the pavement as she maneuvered herself out of the vehicle with a perplexed frown.

Bullets made a distinct noise to a wolf like her. The high pitch shriek as it whistled through the air. That's the sound she remembered hearing, but the next part of her memory was dark and murky.


Soft manicured hands cradled the side of her face as her eyes fall across the mates in her cell block. Many of them she couldn't help but stare at fiercely. Why did some people have gold teeth? Dreadlocks? Blue-green hues dip down to the garb on her body giving it a slow nod of approval.

The giddy nature of the girl lifted over her melancholy atmosphere. She turns abruptly to the grouchy drunk beside her and exclaims proudly. "Oh look! Were matching!" The man made something of a growl and a murderous gaze. It caused her to scoot a few inches away and chew on her bottom lip.

Why was she here anyway? Trying to piece together the puzzle of what inevitably costed her freedom was difficult. It felt like hours before she saw a guard pass the iron gate cell. In seconds she had placed just her lips between the bars, and left the intrusion to her bug-like eyes. "Excuse me sir." She whispered with a tiny squeak.

"I get one phone call."

The baton reverberated against the cell, which caused her to take a step back. Only for her to realize she wasn't solitary standing in the cell. The guard gave her a brief down-up look. "A monster like you shouldn't even be in a holding cell. You don't deserve a phone call." The authoritative tone crushed against her frail exterior.

"For..for.. driving too slow?" The soft retort almost dissolved against the boom of laughter from the degenerates on the other side of the block with her.
June 08, 2017 09:35 am

Caitlyn Darrow

Cell life didn't get better for the moments that followed. The greasy stubs of some salt and pepper heathens placed themselves against her head. Caitlyn twitched and scooted herself into a corner. The beast within her stirred with heightened anxiety.


Belle Noire would make sure she got that one phone call, and probably made the law enforcement officers **** diamonds out their poop shooters. Caitlyn wasn't her aunt, but with her relentless persistence they finally gave her that one phone call. Every second the prisoners in the containment droned on about their sexual fantasies, she calmed her wearied nerves by one hope.

All she had to do was call her husband to bail out. Simple. Lloyd would come get her out of this mess, and then she can go back to binge watching Netflix on the couch.

The redhead stood there in dismay as the phone rang. A shoulder check meant that there were others waiting to use the phone. Lloyd would answer. He always answered her, unless he left. The tone on the other end changed to the looping sound of a disconnect line. This made her angry. Caitlyn didn't like to feel any 'bad' emotions. They never resolved a thing, and it certainly didn't help matters when she ripped out the phone from the wall clinging onto it. The debris scattered around her and the flying dust.

The turn of chaos as the prisoners waiting for that one phone call lashed out at the nearest person - one another. Electricity jolted against her back and sunk beneath her skin to the core of the beast. Knees buckled in front of her as the fist drove against her cheek. A pity they didn't know her past with electric currents, and now by their looks she knew. Order was restored with fear of a common enemy.

The beast in their proximity-- her. Where the guard punched her started to sprout out hair from the pores. The bones made a grotesque musical number as they speared through the muscle and the skin. Her right arm bent backwards with her hand snapped in a seemingly perfect left.

RIP Prison telephone on block one. That's the face the inmates made when she used it to smash into the guard behind her. The humanoid left hand closed into a fist and lifted to press against the blood on her lips. It gave her a sense of satisfaction watching the phone sail off the face of the guard down the hallway.

This would be the guards ultimate in. She didn't know it until the back of her crooked right hand alerted her to something obstructed from her neck. Exhaustion cloaked over her as she struggled to keep her eyelids open. Until her form slumped against the unconscious body of another inmate. 


Consequences of her actions placed her in solitary confinement. When she came to she could see a small reflection of scratched numerals on the wall. It smelled like p!ss and decomposition. The light, the outside, the pretty color of orange on her outfit didn't exist. There wasn't a mattress or a sink, just the small little bars where she could watch a guard walk by the door. The floor was ice and she crawled to the door. Using the strength of the metal to help herself stand. The guard already knew she was at the door from the chattering of her teeth.

"Get away from the door." The commanding voice spoke and caused her to squeak softly in retaliation. Her bare feet slid across the arctic ground until she couldn't bare it. Turning her neck she chewed off a piece of her jumpsuit. It allowed a rift of ice to kiss against the base of her neck, but she had placed the piece close to her feet to try to keep them warm.

"E..Excuse me? long will I be here?"

"23 more hours." The answer caused her back to stiffen whilst her eyes still tried to adjust to the darkness in the cell.

If her sentence had only lasted a hour while she was out.. how did the others track their time? Caitlyn turned and quietly crawled into each wall of the cell so she could find the etched in numbers from her awakened state. Finally her finger pressed against one jagged line of stone.

In the dark she started to whisper, "One Mississippi. Two Mississippi."

July 19, 2017 12:22 am

Lloyd R Darrow

Lloyd stepped out of the bustling arrival terminal at LaGuardia Airport, the platform teeming with self-involved citizens loading cars, hailing taxis, and talking and texting on their cellphones. For once, Lloyd found himself among those New Yorkers in their busied habits. He didn't carry a shred of luggage with him as he steps up to the curb. Only a few seconds later did his car arrive, a 2017 Black Label Lincoln Continental. Quintin, his longtime driver, was quick to swing open the driver’s side front door, heaving himself around to assist his employer, until he found Lloyd had little else but the clothes on his back.

Welcome home, Mr. Darrow. How was Paris?” He inquired in a bright tone, always an eager man. Gloved hands opened the passenger side door, and Lloyd slipped in with ease. It wasn’t until Quintin was back behind the wheel that Lloyd answered. “Educational, Quintin. Quite educational.” As far as anyone was aware, the man had been fighting the tail-end of a trial in international court, in highly controversial and confidential filings. Subsequently, he was never subject to questing from friends, family, or, Caitlyn.

She always happened to be the one woman who was always on his mind. He hadn’t heard a word from her in the past few days, but he wasn’t worried. She was an easily frazzled woman, and he didn’t let any lapse in communication worry him. After all, he was quite busy in his time away. His escapades, however, are a story for another day.

While he had no business that required a suit in the City of Love, he was sure to return in one. A man must maintain appearances. As he settled into the comfort of black, Venetian leather seats, Lloyd undid the bullhorn-style button of his suit. The material was a lighter, tropical wool, meant for such hot summer days, and in a professional, dark navy. Underneath was a neatly pressed white cotton, though he must have removed a fitting tie during the flight.

Where are you going?” Lloyd inquired, verdant eyes ever present as Quintin drove further on the 59th Street Bridge, traversing the East River from Queens to Manhattan.

Headed towards The Somerset, sir. Your residence? Or would you like your office instead?” Quintin glanced back at Lloyd from the rear-view mirror, a light confusion in his expression. “That is what you specified on your travel request. I am happy to take you anywhere, of course.”

After a sharp intake of breath, Lloyd responded in an even-tempered tone. “I haven’t lived in Manhattan for some time now, Quintin. I keep The Somerset for when I work late.” The truth was more complicated than that, but Quintin had no business knowing it. “13th and Prospect Park West.”

Quintin seemed surprised. “Park Slope, sir? That may take some time. Rush hour traffic is starting to pick up.” By this point, Lloyd was finding himself unusually annoyed. First, the confusion with his destination, and now, the man’s reluctance to simply shut up and drive.

You’re getting paid, aren’t you? I’m not worried about the arrival time. Just drive.” Lloyd was rarely short with anyone in his employ, but incompetence was one thing he wouldn’t tolerate. If only he had known such occurrences were far from over, and his temper would not be so lenient in future cases.

After what felt like an eternity, Lloyd Darrow stepped out onto the pavement, slipping a few folded Andrew Jackson’s into Quintin's hand. The multimillion dollar brownstone the Darrow family inhabited in Park Slope had been the first shared purchase of the married couple, but Lloyd had been intent upon purchasing a home fit for raising children. And with Prospect Park in spitting distance, he was certain this home, despite the price tag, was worth the investment.

Upon unlocking the front door, however, he was greeted by Lisa, their preferred babysitter, sitting on the sofa with a panicked expression. When she saw Lloyd enter, she jumped up with renewed vigor. “Oh my god! Mr. Darrow! Thank god! I’ve been trying to call you..-” Lloyd held up a finger, cutting her off.

My phone was dead. I’ve been traveling. Where is Caitlyn? Are the boys okay?” He is immediately walking past her towards the playroom, leather driving shoes pressing further into the finely finished entryway. “Boys? Noah? Rigsby?” He stopped as the pitter-patter of excited footsteps hailed his step-children. Noah raced into Lloyd’s sure embrace, Rigsby, obviously, needing more time to find his way over. “Where’s mummy?” He’d almost forgotten Lisa was present.

That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” The young girl, a graduate student at Johns Hopkins, exasperated. Or, what it NYU? Lloyd didn’t care. He squinted, ever serious. “Mrs. Darrow hasn’t been home in two days, and-” He grew stiff. That was entirely unlike Caitlyn.

Did you call the police?” If something had gone wrong, something involving the Realm, and what the Darrows were, it would only complicate matters if mortal law enforcement was involved.

They said I had to wait 72 hours, and I thought I should wait for you, and…” Lisa was hysterical now, weeping openly. Still, he was reassured by her trustworthiness that she had stayed with the children.

Everything’s going to be fine, Lisa. Can you stay with the children? I need to make a few calls. Go and see if I can’t track her down myself. You know Caitlyn. She’s so spacey… I’m sure there is a simple explanation.” There was never a simple explanation to his wife, but Lloyd was determined to track her down. A deep-seeded pit of panic wound anxiously in his chest, but he quelled it with a harsh swallow.

Boys, you’ll stay with Nanny Lisa for just a while longer, yeah? Papa needs to go and find mummy.” After two very loving kisses were pressed to their heads, he grabbed his car keys and slipped out of the house, not even waiting for Lisa to get another word in edge-wise.

The Bentley GTC was more Lloyd’s style, and he preferred to be behind the wheel. It prevented any nonsense. He plugged in his phone, immediately finding Caitlyn’s contact in the directory. Before he pressed dial, however, he noticed a Voicemail notification. He pressed play.

The message was jumbled, almost nonsensical as Caitlyn babbled on about an arrest, setting Lloyd’s teeth on edge. His absence was the reason why she had been no doubt sitting in jail for two days, now. He needed to stop at his office, but he was well on his way to gathering his wife up, no matter what the cost. He only hoped his wife was still in one piece when he arrived.

August 02, 2017 06:13 pm

Caitlyn Darrow

She didn't know the number she stopped on, but upon awakening she was in a fetal position the scent of bowel movements plague her nostrils and gave her cause to open her mouth in a wretched gag. Each stretch of her limbs she could hear the loud pop of her body trying to align everything back to symmetry shape. Even though she had passed out on some Mississippi she still felt the exhaustion sag her face. The dark circles under her eyes, the glossy gaze, and the droopy eyelids. By now the handcuffs had seared their branding into the pale flesh of her wrists.

The small window on the door in SHU opened with a guard behind it. "Darrow. Counsel wishes to speak with you after breakfast." From on the other end of the door the guard sounded bold and full of authority. Silently she wondered if he would bellow the same way, if she hadn't been gimped by their metallic wrist wear.
That didn't matter now. The man had mentioned breakfast which gave her a shimmer of hope. Until the tray was dispensed and the surprise mush vomited across her upper body. Mystery meal clutched to the mass of disheveled auburn tresses. Oddly enough this didn't detour her optimism. "Is..Is this a surprise flavor? Is there .. oranges?" She spoke up and eyeballed the tray curiously. It had a scent that could only be described as cardboard and cinnamon.

Her lips turned downward into a small frown, but she did manage to catch the taste of the questionable sludge as it dropped into her mouth. It had no flavor. Caitlyn blinked slowly and stared at it with a mixture of awe and fright.

Patience was a virtue that eluded jail from the beginning of time. Minutes later the guard opened the door to Shu, and escorted her down the hallway. She watched through the windows horrified at what she saw on the other end of them. Some had no bunk. Some had used their own sh-t to write messages on the wall. Some had gone full mental crying from laughter exchanging in conversations with themselves. She gulped the lump in her throat.

Counsel meant lawyer, at least that's what Caitlyn assumed. Good. Someone was here to get her back home to her beloved orange juice and her family. The prison had other ideas for her. Instead she was escorted to a dark interrogation room with one wobbly metallic chair. She had seen this before in movies, but arched a brow at it.

All of this for going below the speed limit? Carefully she set herself in the chair, and the guard left as quickly for a suited man to switch into the room where he once stood. The scent of the man's cologne made her want to sniff the cardboard secret delight breakfast menu instead. After one inhale she coughed loudly into the air, and wheezed to get a bit of uncontaminated air.

"Mrs. Darrow." The man didn't come in empty handed, and placed a thick document with so much force the flimsy table wobbled in response.

"Where is my husband..? Can I go home now?" Concern creased her brows as she connected her gaze onto the fine dressed stranger. Her mind wandered slightly to the left trying to recall if Lloyd actually had the same suit the man did.

The public prosecutor conjured a jaded smile. "You just need to sign this form, and then you'll be free." The last part of his words hung in the air, and she swore she saw them linger in front of her. There was something more. He shoved the thick documents in front of her, and removed a pen from his jacket pocket. It was placed perfectly on the papers.

"I..I just have to sign this and then I can leave?" Caitlyn asked softly and scanned the beginning of the document. The warning sign was clear when the man placed his hand over the part she had glanced at, and turned automatically to the black scribbled 'x'.

"X marks the spot." He fake laughed. Even though it was false, she couldn't stop herself from smiling. She picked up the pen and placed it on document. One drop of ink and her eyes caught the word on the form.


Nervously she looked back up to the man across from her. "I..I just..drove too slow." Bewilderment blossomed behind her gaze, as her head slowly shook in disbelief.

"Is that what you thought?" He had started to pick at an invisible piece of food between his teeth.
There was a notable delay between her answer. A lost look to match her unkempt appearance. Her head shook back and forth on a grim slow repeat. "T..that's what I did." Truth set people free all the time. At least on the Hallmark channel.

The man flipped the documents in front of her to skim through them. Bones. Acidic residue. Barrels. Blood. Death. With each page her face distorted with pure terror. This wasn't her.."Would you mind stating for the record how your DNA has managed to be connected to these crimes?"

"What?" Her eyes had started to hoard water inside them. The drops slowly making their way down her cheeks. None of this was true. "I don't know." She answered between frustrated sobs. Through the outside looking in it was an admission to her guilt.

The cosmos chose to not leave her there in shock. The guard interrupted and the prosecutor both exchanged words. Her head slumped down so she could stare at pictures of these half acid devoured torsos. It was decided without her knowledge, that it would likely warrant a conviction from her if she saw her husband.

Mister Dumb PP face approached her once more, and leaned closer to her ear. ”Justice will be served. The truth will come out, but this gives you an out.” He tapped the papers eagerly. “I’ll visit one more time before the trial. If you don’t decide to go with it..” His voice trailed off for him to gather the damning documents. “I would suggest signing your children over to foster care.” Only then did the feral growl vibrate upwards from her lungs. The narrow of her gaze as the door clicked shut.

A plastic partition separated her from the outside world. Blue green flickered to watch children visit their incarcerated parents this way. Silently judge them for not carrying a mini Sunny Delight with them. She could hear the prisoners on her side chatting or threatening one another. Someone asked to scissor her, which she politely declined. Caitlyn didn't need a haircut. This type of scenario reminded Caitlyn of a movie she had watched many full moons ago. That would be great if the pizza man delivered some food while she was contained.

Could she have done such vile things? Was she a monster? She was by all accounts a monster. Her genetics were not secret.

Resting her eyes for a few minutes, she waited patiently for the buzz to alert her on the phone pressed against her shoulder. At least she could pretend this was a dream. Even better when she woke up, maybe her husband would be on the other side of the plastic wall.
August 14, 2017 11:42 pm

Lloyd R Darrow

Transitionally, Lloyd worked in the law offices of Bingham, Quaid & Lowell, the New York branch of a London-central legal operation. As a junior partner, and a cricket teammate of Dewey Bingham, he operated in the office at his own discretion, able to use their database, resources, and network of private investigators with no true opposition. He was aware his presence during peak hours would have drawn some murmurs and gossip, but it was later in the evening, and only associates burning the midnight oil would be present. 

Which, for Lloyd, worked in his favor. He needed information discreetly. And he needed it expediently. So, he welcomed new bodies into the fold.  

He entered the bullpen with a casual confidence, immediately eliciting the attentions of the newly minted lawyers hard at work on low-profile cases given away like fodder to goats. If he wasn't so agitated, he might have found the sight reminiscent and amusing. However, he was tightly wound. So much so, he had to actively track his temper. He didn't need a massacre on his hands tonight. He simply wanted his wife home. "Who here is the top-grossing associate?" He squinted, scrutinizing the appearance of the woman whose hand shot into the air without hesitation. "Have you ever worked a criminal case before?" He stepped over to her cubicle, exercising no discretion as he grabbed the first file on her desk, thumbing through her well-organized notes with a bemused expression.  

"Yes, sir. Jou v. State of New York." There was a gleam to her tone, as if the status of the case should speak to her capabilities. Lloyd never bothered with criminal cases. The money had always been in civil court for him, and so civil court is what kept his continued attentions. He feigned an understanding of the case, verdant gaze landing back upon her with benign interest. "You'll do. Follow me." It wouldn't do, of course, to release any further information in the company of her fellow associates. The underlings talked, especially when they felt the information would be of interest to the partners they answered to. 

"Sir, if you don't mind my asking," She spoke in the same manner most Americans he encountered did. Fast, and with little room for bullsh-t. "I thought criminal cases had to be sanctioned by the partners. You haven't even given me a file." Her brows knit together, generic brown eyes searching him for some sort of tell. She would find none. "I normally research by myself, as it is."  

Her statement warranted a half-hearted chuckle from his lips. "Don't worry, you will be. From my office, though. This case is sensitive, as I'm sure you've guessed. To be frank, I have no idea how to navigate the database. I need the arrest records of Caitlyn Darrow." His request was so smooth, even he almost missed the magnitude of the admission. However, from the expression on her face, he was aware of her shock. "Yes, my wife. I anticipate you'll conduct yourself with the utmost care for the dignity of my family, Ms..." He eyed her over, only just realized he was ignorant to her name.  

"Petra Reaves." She responded, pushing past him to open the clear glass doors of his office. Letters, invoices and documents were scattered on every possible surface. It was a mess of his work, and the associates he administered to. Petra disregarded the disarray as she slipped into his chair, already beginning to navigate the computer with precision. Nevertheless, Lloyd hovered, watching as she searched the database.  

"I have an arrest record, for Caitlyn Darrow. She was pulled over by highway patrol two days ago." She paused, allowing him control of the computer. "There's more, Lloyd. They're pursuing criminal charges. The descriptions are.. Heinous." She continued to describe the charges, but he wasn't listening. Instead, he focused in on the key words. Held without bail. Awaiting arraignment.  

Lloyd could hear the force with which blood pumped through his veins, the prickling of his nerves cueing an ensuing change if he did not get control of his anger. "Thank you, Petra. I need to step out. You have my number? Call me if anything changes on my drive." The fragile humanity that existed within him was threatening upheaval as he marched back out of the office complex, hands snapping the stainless-steel handle of the vestibule door. The evening air soothed his nerves, but nothing could truly quell the nag of the beast.  

His mate, in imminent danger. He had never known her to lose such control of her wolf that she could have been so lethal. There had to be an explanation, however illogical. A reasoning to it all. Caitlyn was framed. He trusted that she wasn't a monster like him. His wolf wanted blood, to reap the lives of those who had interfered with Caitlyn in any way. It wanted destruction, and chaos. And the wolf was winning. Still, Lloyd loaded himself into the car, GPS guiding him towards Caitlyn's purgatory. He willed himself to fix her situation, legality and the mortal world in the forefront of his mind. 

Still, if that failed, he was not opposed to making a pariah of himself. He had little need for the civilized world, anyway. What mattered most to him, was on the other side of reinforced steel bars. His arrival, however, was far past visiting hours, and Lloyd had little choice but to sleep in his car, and wait for the next day. 

"I'm here to see Caitlyn Darrow. I'm her legal counsel." Lloyd slid his I.D. into the slot, verdant eyes searing into the officer on the other side of the protective glass.  

"Follow officer Barnes." He droned, jutting his head towards another approaching correctional officer. He followed him down the dimly lit concrete hallway, until he was situated in a room with a table and two chairs bolted to the ground. The fact that Caitlyn was being kept in such conditions left him struggling to maintain his composure once more. 

He would simply have to wait for Caitlyn before he made his decision on what to do next. 

September 22, 2017 07:56 pm

Caitlyn Darrow

The tap on the plastic partition disturbed her minutes of peaceful slumber. This was a visitor that she didn't recognize, and she turned behind her to see if she had sat in the wrong seat. The woman on the other side persistently taps her finger on the wall phone and points to Caityn. Puzzled she picks up the phone and brings the plastic receiver to her ear. The other beast inside her stirred, whispered to hang herself with the phone cord. That was the hound that took the longest to silence.

"Hello? I don't--" Caitlyn whispered to stranger on the other side of the clear plastic barrier. The woman became belligerent, and cried demanding to know why. Cait blinked and shrank into her seat, setting the phone back into the cradle. "I'm sorry. I didn't do it." She whispered reassuringly placing her cuffed hands onto the partition. Pleading with this distraught stranger that cast guilt onto her.


"Nononono. Shhhh." Caitlyn tries to shush her down but she can already see the outlined shadows of the guards behind her. Their weight as they pull her off the chair and drag her back to the bunker she shared with a girl that looked like a living skeleton. Caitlyn grunted as her head collided against the metal railing of the bunk bed. Her mind raced in unity with the beat of her heart. That woman didn't look familiar. Both monsters within her agreed quickly that they hadn't seen her before that day.

She tries to remember the words the documents had that they wanted her to sign. If this lady saw her, then this falsified case had an eye witness. She tucks herself onto her bunk, and tries to talk her neighbor into trading her some Ramen noodles for the pillow on the top bunk. Her stomach rumbled, but finally after much deliberation she made the trade.

When she laid on the top bunk now she could feel the metal dull stab the back of her head, but she held the package of Ramen close to her heart with a sniffle.  She spent the rest of what she could guess was hours in the same position. Occasionally the tips of her ears would twitch when her bunkmates were near her. She cracks open the bag of ramen and eats a crunchy curly strand of it. Falling asleep to the sound of the crunching.

The next morning she stirred awake and could feel the oily shift in her hair. This day her unruly tresses had decided to stand on all ends as if she were electrocuted. The inmate that asked if she wanted to scissor hands her a makeshift shiv toothbrush. Caitlyn tucks it into her pillow and follows the rest of them to the mess hall. The sludge today looks black and smells like decayed spinach mixed with two month old peas. She praised the genius idea to stick the rest of the ramen into her orange jumpsuit pocket.

Her faces twists in displeasure as the beast takes control of her wrist. The plate of sludge slings like a boomerang towards the garbage, clipping a larger inmate in the back. She takes in a sharp breath and tries to stealthily make her exit. It wasn't that easy. The other woman grabbed the knot of red hair and slammed her into the nearest stainless steel meal table. A whimper left her lips, which caused a crowd to laugh. Until one of the beasts rose.

In a matter of seconds she twirled around and connected her fists in a vicious cycle into the woman's face. She pushes the woman against the bolted down garbage can, and proceeds to claw at her face. Part of the prison tribe tries to intervene, but they don't get far with the beast in control. She grabs food trays and slams them into the faces of the inmates that get in her way.

The guards came into the lunch room, whistles blown. One look at Caitlyn and they grab her arm to drag her back to SHU. Before they can shove her back into that blasted cell they tell her the legal counsel is there. Caitlyn is prepared to propel herself into the SHU cell. Was that man coming back to have her signed a confession to something she didn’t do? Her orneriness is finally contained when they make the executive decision to pull her into psych first. Psych shoots her with a sedative and two burly men carry her into the room.

Dazed she squints across the room, as they shackle her to the table leg. They push her towards the table, and make a solid announcement. “Thirty minutes.” Caitlyn’s eyes aren’t focused and she tilts her head in regard to the counsel across from her. A slow smile spread across her lips. “Hi Lloyd. You’re so..clean.” she murmurs sleepily and whines when she can’t reach across the table to touch him. It takes a minute, but she seems to start to remember where exactly she’s placed them. Her brows furrow and she leans forward until the cuffs won’t allow it anymore.“Are you here to take me home? It’s scary.”

Immediately she starts full fledge bawling and sits back into the uncomfortable chair. “I just.. I just… was” she can’t form the words right away. The tranquilizer slurred her speech and impacted her normal thought pattern. “…going too slow.”

October 08, 2017 12:44 am
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