𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥. | 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐚 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬

prologue "don't fuck with me"

keys:
y/n = your name
h/c = hair color
e/c = eye color
s/c = skin color

-

A LONE WOMAN LET A DEEP BREATH escape her as she tilted her head downwards, her bleached blonde hair flowing down, succumbing to gravity as her eyes closed lightly, her limbs in the air being supported by her tied up, shedded clothes that left her in her white boy shorts and equally as boring tank top. Under the seemingly flying woman was a variety of stuffed animals, plastic Barbie jewellery and strewn open letters - they were gifts and letters, from who though?

     She adjusted her position in the air as she opened her eyes - though not completely as she lowered her hands to play with her chemical-damaged hair, the steel poles of her cage not bothering her in the slightest as she relaxed in her aerial position. She heard the gate open, the sounds of heavy footsteps echoing with the sounds of demands being yelled out, she smiled as a heavy handed man quite literally pounded at her cage, "Karlsson, get down from there! Rec time's starting!" the gruff man, a guard, demanded, his small eyes glaring at the blissful woman.

     The woman grinned "Gracias, Julio." she giggled, flipping down from her tied up clothes and carelessly walked over the letters and gifts towards the door, paying no mind to the guards who stood more alertly as she walked towards the big man, "Put on some clothes, we don't need another case of sexual assault." Julio ordered, his Brooklyn accent shining through proud and clear, 'Karlsson' blew a raspberry as she begrudgingly pulled down the tied up dress before loosely pulling on the striped garment on her body then moving to the cell's door and allowing Julio to cuff her hands and legs, but not before glancing at a framed photo that sat prettily and neatly between the mess of gifts and letters.

     Sometimes the letters are from people who say they're praying for her, they tell her everything will be okay if she just accepted Jesus Christ into her heart. She says the words, but nothing ever happens.
     No body ever comes back, she thought solemnly, staring at the boy- no, at the man whose grin stole the spotlight in the photo. No body gets off the cross.

     Occasionally, she'd get presents from starfuckers who saw my pictures all over and want to marry her or something. They think they can take her away from all this. As if she'd really date a perverted Chester with a hard-on for jailbait, she's insane, but she's not desperate or a cheating fuck.

     Her small smile stretched into her infamous grin appearing on her permanent red painted lips as the gate closed behind her. Her hands rubbed her wrists that were bruised from the handcuffs they'd put on her everyday, the yard turned quiet as soon as she arrived, the atmosphere turning tense as the criminally insane inmates stared at the woman who walked past them all before continuing their activities though more tensely. Karlsson could practically smell the fear in the actions.

     Welcome to the mental Olympics where they're big on recreation. Inmates were sort of forced to participate in sports such as tennis or punching bags to pass time, it was entertaining. But then again, if their sanity was converted to temperature it would make 0 kelvin look like the Bahamas, so she didn't doubt that staring at a wall would be just as entertaining as this to them. But, who was she to judge them?

     She then found herself in the cafeteria, her tray empty with only a plain biscuit as she walked through the rows of black and white striped men and women whose behavior was akin to that of a trained dog, Karlsson always thought that they, the 'sane' people were just trying to wear them out, to keep us sluggish so there won't be an uprising. While those JV tactics won't work against me, I'm a kicker. K I C K E R.

It even says so on my chart, she thought gleefully.

     "Just one toast, huh?" Karlsson slowly turned towards the familiar voice, her smile was present on her face yet a glare was coursing through her dead, extremely light blue eyes that she couldn't remember if she was born with or not. "It's a biscuit. I like biscuits." she deadpanned.
     "Well, that's good. But, I'm not sure if one biscuit can provide sufficient energy during the day." Her therapist expressed, false worry clouding her voice, Karlsson hated that, she hated her. "I'd recommend more complex carb--" she received a strong kick to her chest before completing her sentence, the faux blonde's sheer and angry strength knocked the heavy woman over a table behind her with a groan, taking down an inmate along the way.