Prisoner Exchange; a Documentary

Chapter 4: Don't Forget Where You Came From

A/N: Edited 8-12-2017

Playlist: Love Yourself - Justin Bieber

Disclaimer: Sutter/FX own SOA

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror a towel wrapped around my still damp skin. I used one hand and wiped the steam away from my reflection. I twisted my hair around my hand, squeezing the excess water out. My small toiletry bag sat unzipped on the covered toilet seat. I grabbed my face cream, smearing a generous amount on my hand and then rubbing it onto my face in small circles.

I closed my eyes still feeling a slight buzz. Never underestimate the soothing effects of a warm bath and a joint. It did wonders for my stress levels. With the steam of the hot water came clarity. I decided that I'd meet with this Clay Morrow guy. I was still nervous as hell, but at least I could discontinue all contact with the convicts in my life in one shot. 'Head straight for the top to get things done' as my father always said.

I rolled out the kinks in my neck before twirling my hair into a loose up-do to dry. I unfolded the towel, hanging it on the hook behind the door. I slipped on a baggy t-shirt, boy short underwear and a pair of black yoga shorts. I'd had a long day. Surprisingly, I'd found solace in knowing exactly who had broken into my apartment. Weirdly enough, it even made me feel a bit safer. I think just knowing who was behind the assault lifted the fear of the unknown. I had a channel for my anger now.

I sighed while walking down the hallway of my childhood home to my very unchanged bedroom. I didn't spend a lot of time here anymore and my room still looked like it housed a teenaged cheerleader. I dropped onto the bed sprawling out, exhausted from the week. I stared up at the ceiling, staring at those silly green glow in the dark stars I plastered up there when I was eleven.

I had three days until I needed to meet with Happy's 'President'. Whatever that meant. Maybe I'd learn a little bit more about my inmate. No. My former inmate. I rolled over tucking under the covers and pulling the clip out of my hair. It was still early, around 10:30 pm but I needed the sleep. I felt like I hadn't slept in months. Within seconds I'd fallen into a dreamless sleep.

~(SOA)~

I was sitting at a round table with the seats attached like a bench. There were half a dozen other tables like mine around the room but the place was empty. I had no idea what or who to expect. I spread my fingers out on the table, stilling the flutter of nerves in my stomach. I lifted up one hand and began picking at my nails; my nervous tick.

There was a loud buzz and the door was opened. I fought the urge to snap up and look. I needed to remain calm. The foot falls approaching me were heavy against the floor. I glanced up at the man approaching me and was shocked. He made a show of stopping and checking me out. I pursed my lips. He was openly eyeing me up. Was I considered a threat? Finally he let his gaze leave mine and sat down across from me.

I leaned backwards, trying to remain a safe distance away. My heart was pounding in my chest and I prayed that my fear wasn't obvious on my face. The man sitting across from me was the complete opposite of Happy. Where Happy's eyes were deep black pooling pits, this man's were blue as a bright spring day. He had fair skin that was bleached from the Californian sun. His hair was an equal mix of old age and the colour of fresh snow on a northern winter morning.

There was, however, one thing that this man and my inmate shared, their hostility. Happy's was more a steel quiet like that of a scorpion, striking when you least expected it. Where this man's was reminiscent of a rattlesnake, his distrust loud and obvious.

"Jesus." I hissed.

The man glared at me.

"Are you all this intimidating?" I asked.