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Every day was the same.
It went like this; wake up, briefly forget where she was, and have a moment of luxurious calm as she languished in her bed. Remember, with dawning horror, her circumstances, register the blue of her cell walls.
Then get up, grab clothes, mood already dampened. Head to the showers and bathrooms, hope there’s not too many people there. Usually there wasn’t, because she always seemed to get up earlier than most of the other prisoners. Today there were a couple others, women who didn’t seem to have any reservations with showering in front of foreign eyes, but it was still something Paige struggled with. Despite it being a month since she’d arrived.
Got plenty of time to get used to it, she thought involuntarily, and hot tears came to her eyes.
But she swallowed her reservations, showered and dressed, and the hot water washed away the smatterings of tears. Walking back down the hall, Paige shivered under her sweatshirt—no matter how many layers she wore it always seemed to be cold in here.
She came to the open area of Block E, and mercifully, it was empty. Nobody up yet. Paige made a beeline for the kitchenette, plucking a banana from the bowl of fruit that was on the counter. She peeled the banana, leaning against the counter and chewing thoughtfully. It was quiet except for the buzz of electronics in the background. Paige enjoyed the silence while it lasted; silence signaled a time when she wasn’t potentially at the mercy of the other prisoners, where she could almost pretend that she’d moved to a new apartment that was slowly being furnished. Pretend she wasn’t trapped.
The sound of footsteps caught her attention, and Paige lowered the banana like she’d been caught in the act. The feeling only intensified when it was Lustrum who walked in. She caught sight of Paige, and smiled. Lustrum was a tall woman who looked to be in her forties, with longish dark hair that was beginning to show traces of grey in it. She looked matronly, reminded Paige in some ways of her own mother, but her her muscled frame and no-nonsense tone when speaking with the other cell block leaders was anything but matronly.
“Canary,” Lustrum greeted. “Always up early, I see.”
“Good morning,” Paige replied awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. I’m just used to it, I guess.”
Lustrum snorted lightly, and came up to the counter. “Pass me an orange?”
The outline of a joke about Lustrum not liking bananas for a certain reason formed in Paige’s mind, but she let it go. When she wasn’t preaching about how violence was a state of mind that was inherent to males and the concept of masculinity was inherently toxic and oppressive, she was nice. She was kind, even, lacking that perpetual edge that the other prisoners held in the most innocent of their words and actions.
Paige passed Lustrum an orange, and the woman peeled it with economy and popped the pieces in her mouth, one at a time. Occasionally, her eyes would fall on Paige, and to her paranoia it seemed like scrutiny, instead of the woman just happening to look at her.
Lustrum swallowed and spoke. “The supply drop came today. I was going to wait until everyone else was up until we started distributing, but since you’re up… do you want first pick of the recreational stuff?”
Paige stared. “Um. Seriously? Are you—wouldn’t that make the others upset?”
Lustrum waved it off. “Ah, you’re not keeping what you pick forever. Just being the first one to get at it. You can trade it off when you’re done with it.”
She toyed with the hem of her sweatshirt, feeling a nervousness collect in her. At consequences, she supposed, at anxiety over whether this would turn into leverage.
Paige looked up at the woman, found her smiling gently. She smiled weakly back. “S-sure, I’ll check it out.”
Lustrum grinned and patted her on the shoulder—Paige tried to suppress a flinch. “There’s a girl. Come on.”
The older woman led her down the hall to another open area. In the midst of a room with tables and chairs pushed against the walls sat an absolutely gigantic canvas bag surrounded by various smaller containers and bags. Lustrum made for the big bag and pulled it open, sorting through various items inside.
“I’m just looking through non-perishables and clothes,” the woman said, not looking over her shoulder. “There’s labels on the boxes. Check through them, see if there’s something you want.”
Paige paced amidst the containers, eyes flicking over the labels. CANNED FOOD, SHOES + SLIPPERS, DAIRY PRODUCTS, MEDICATION + FIRST AID, MUSIC…
Music. She knelt down in front of the plastic container and cracked it open. Inside was a small boombox next to several CDs neatly arranged label-up, which Paige flicked through. They were arranged alphabetically—AC/DC, Arctic Monkeys, The Beach Boys, The Beatles, and…
Billie Holliday. Self-titled. Paige’s heart leaped. It wasn’t just that she was one of Paige’s favourite singers, it was that she’d become a sort of go-to source for songs that Paige sang when she was on dinner duty and cooking, or when the lights went out at night and the crushing reality of her situation settled in on her. Billie was all-purpose, never losing her charm.
She knew Dragon had surveillance programs all over the prison, had been told as much on her first day here. That meant Dragon probably would have heard her singing at some point. Was it a happy accident that the CD had made its way here, or…?
“Um,” Paige piped up. “Lustrum. Am I allowed to take the CD player for myself, or is that for everyone?”
“What’s that?” the woman asked, rising to lean over Paige’s shoulder. “Oh, new boombox. Well, we already have one…” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I’d rather keep the music players communal. But,” she raised a finger, “I can let you keep it to yourself until everyone wakes up. Then you’ve got to hand it over. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” Paige said, feeling a rush of something other than fear for what felt like the first time in a month. She picked up the CD player and the CD, standing and holding it to her chest. “Um, can I…”
“Go ahead,” Lustrum laughed, shooing her off with a gesture. “Have fun for a bit.”
Paige practically ran back to her cell, unspooling the cord from the boombox and plugging it into the wall. Popping the lid, she fumbled the CD out of its case and put it in the player, checking the tracklist on the back. When she turned it on, she skipped to the third track. Gentle piano filled the cell, and Paige closed her eyes.
I’ll be seeing you,
In all the old familiar places,
That this heart of mine embraces
All day through…
Sitting on the floor with her eyes shut, the music filtering through the speakers, she could almost believe she was back in her apartment again, unwinding from a performance the night before.
Despite everything, Paige allowed herself a smile.