The bus dropped us at Redgate at 8:40, and the fence went up so high it made me dizzy.
Kiki: Six months, roomie. And a bed with a real fucking door.
She said it like a dare, and I grabbed my bag before my hands could shake.
The guard at the gate looked at my bruise and asked if I was damaged goods.
He called us motel trash and said Redgate didn't pay for broken bitches.
Kiki: She fell. You want to see the fucking receipt?
The guard laughed and told Kiki to watch her mouth before he wrote her up as refuse.
Kiki: Write it down twice, asshole. I like seeing my name.
My stomach dropped, but the guard just waved us through like we were already boring.
Inside the first office, a woman in a dark uniform slid a clipboard across the desk and told me to sign.
The contract said six months, no visitors without permission, and no leaving unless they said so.
Kiki: Sign it like you mean it, Romy. We didn't come this far to get shy.
Another guard dumped my bag on the table and went through it like he hoped to find something worth arresting me for.
He found a hairbrush, a bus ticket, and one cracked lipstick, and he still made me feel dirty.
Kiki: That's it? No secret knives in the strawberry shampoo?
The guard told her to shut her fucking mouth and keep her hands where he could see them.
Kiki: Hands are right here, sugar. You want to pat them down too?
I pinched her arm before she could get us thrown out before we even got in.
Romy: What if they change their minds? What if they look at us and see exactly what Curt sees?
Kiki: They already got their fee, Romy. We're not people to them, we're paperwork.
That was supposed to be comforting, and God help me, it kind of was.
A buzzer went off when I walked through the detector, and my whole body went cold.
The guard waved me through with a bored look and said it was my belt, not my sins.
Kiki: Told you. Piece of cake.
Then we were through the second gate, and it started rolling shut behind us with a clang that went up through my shoes.
I watched the county road shrink through the wire, and my chest did something strange.
Kiki: Look at that. We're on the wrong side of the fence, and I feel better already.
My knees went weak, and I grabbed Kiki's sleeve to keep myself standing.
Romy: We're in. We're actually fucking in.
Kiki: Told you I'd get us out, you stubborn bitch. Now hug me before I cry.
For one second, I let myself feel it. No Curt. No deadbolt. No tip jar counting down to zero.
It was fucked up that a prison felt like a vacation, but that was my life.
It felt like setting down a bag I'd been carrying since I was fifteen.
Then I looked past the yard to the cell blocks, all gray and locked up tight.
Somewhere in there was a man with my name on a file, and I didn't know his face or what he wanted.
Romy: What if he's worse than Curt?
Kiki: Then we run. But we run from inside a prison, not a motel laundry room.
Kiki: And we run together, so don't get dramatic on me.
That was Kiki all over. A plan with a hole in it, and enough guts to make me believe.
A guard pointed at a door at the end of the hall and told us to move our asses.
He said the next part wouldn't be pretty, and he smiled like he already knew how ugly it got.
Kiki: Charming. Real five-star service.
The gate locked behind us with a clang that rattled my teeth.
I let out a breath I'd been holding since Curt's laundry room, and for one whole second, I felt safe.
Kiki: Next stop, the search room. Try not to punch anybody.