The Delinquent - Act 02

     They arrived at the juvenile detention center a half hour later. The paperwork took the better part of the afternoon, and the elevator ride to the facility below was uneventful. At the foot of the descent, the prison guard shoved her into the all-too familiar hallway.

          Old Craig let her pick the cell, grinning at her with that *sh*t*-faced smile of his. "Twenty years I've prowled these halls!" He'd once proclaimed. Filton wasn't a fancy place. Between outright nepotism and an under funded justice system, she believed the latter was the reason he kept his job.

          Miranda sat in the corner, staring out the bars as the day's lingering light streamed through. Some part of her, she supposed, knew well that she was only hurting herself, but after fifteen years of this wonderful gift called life, she also knew the universe won't stop if she were to drop dead. By that token, Miranda saw no harm in the things she did. Why cautiously tip-toe through life only to safely arrive at death?

          They kept her in the detention center until her step-parents arrived in system. Considering the gauntlets of Interstellar Immigration and Customs they had to go through, plus the time spent in subspace, that worked out to about three weeks. The food sucked.

          Old Craig came by her cell on the cold, crisp morning of July 13th. Phil was in tow. A big man, he was. He wore construction jeans, heavy set in a checkered red-and-black shirt. Phil didn't say a word to her, mad breath hitching in his lungs. The scowl wasn't quite there.

          She met Phil's blue eyes, buried in his fat face, and tried not to smile. That would *p*ss* him off. Despite his thick skull, she had to admit the man had an imagination for delivering pain.

          The prison guard opened the cell and urged her down the corridor. Phil patiently walked a few steps behind, bearded chin raised high, them big arms of his swinging back and forth.

          They rode the elevator and found Chief Warden Onishima waiting for them at the top. He couldn't claim less than fifty standard earth years. Miranda saw the trace of a smile underneath his salty moustache. Onishima had a shady look about him.

          Miranda and her step father walked out from the detention center before midday. Phil wasn't a rich man, but he was the distant cousin of a man who owned a shipping firm back home on Chiron in the Alpha Centauri system.

          They walked to the riverside motel, all three glorious miles of it, in the sweltering summer heat. Phil half-dragged her along by the arm. The big man held steadfast to his silence.

          There was a door bell, but Phil knocked instead. The door swung open, and a thin woman stepped out. A fair face, no longer young but not really that old. Miranda watched the emotions play through her eyes: guilt, anger, relief, regret. Torn between these emotions, the woman simply leapt to Miranda, closed thin arms about her.

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So this is more of a drama piece than an alien-blasting-space-marine epic. Try to focus on the main character's internal struggles.

updated Aug 21 by Ayane1289