|:Im:|:Screwed:|:Oh:|:Well:| {Morgana}
Jan 9, 2011 2:45:57 GMT -5
Post by peanutpie on Jan 9, 2011 2:45:57 GMT -5
Dolly Redici[/size][/font]
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Dolly Redici was hauled her against her will. They called it arson, but she honestly didn't get how lighting up a minor shed full of dry timber could be that big of a deal to the people of her district. Or even to the peacekeepers.
And now, she had been stripped down from the green lace shirt and pair of jeans and was given a black shirt and black pants to make her look even more dark.
But, she was quite thankful to the fact that she didnt need to admit to the pregnancy by incest not quite yet. She braced herself as she was put into her cell, a slight room with two metal bunks stacked against one wall, a sink made of the same metallic metal and a small... chamberpot perhaps?
Oh, god. It was. She clenched her fists and looked at the slight dim light that echoed through the room like reflections in a mirror. Bouncing relfections went against eachother.
Dolly kicked the wall, the white assigned clonky sneakers not protecting her feet from the hard metal. "Ow!" She said, her eyes wandering to the sad and pathetic shoe that was on her foot. The type youd wear for a physical therapy class, or even for something like if you belonged in a mental hospital.
But, if she continued talking to herself in this manner, she'd probably be whisked away right then to the psychiatriac ward of the place where she was. Not a good thing, she was sure.
As she sat down on the bunk, with the paper thin blanket, she pondered why the pants looked so bad. Oh yeah. She was going to have her brothers baby.
This wasnt a good thing, at all. It was incest, and knowing her and her brother, if she or the baby didnt die in childbirth, they would screw this kid up pretty badly. You know, the kid with the speech issues, the one who cried at the point of distruction, the one with no impulse control? Yeah, that kid would probably mess a ton with their life.
And knowing Declain, Dolly would probably have it easy for the first five years, but when the kid got really emotional and teenage... god. Declain would probably be the same seventeen year old boy forever, wouldnt he?
She rested her hands on the knees of her black pants and pondered. Where was her cellmate? She heard everyone had them, probably because of the chaos of the people around them. Anyway, it was cheaper to heat one room than two, and it was plenty of space to walk around in here.
The only problem would be using the bathroom. She bit her lip and thought of something that would give more privacy. She wasnt going to take off her shoes, they were warm, and probably lined with warm fluff.
Eh, they'd figure it out later.