Keyframe

.1959.

It's been a year. A year since I fell out of that portal in that alleyway. A year since I kissed Five. A year since I've seen my family. A year since I killed that cop and got sentenced to Five years in prison.

I look at the wall across from me. Sawyer lies in her bed above mine. She has two years left, even heard she might be able to get out in a year with probation.

She's the lucky one of the two of us. All they can prove is that she did one robbery. Not that she knew I'd kill the cop or burn the building. She may even get out because she 'helped' the other people in the store that day.

I get out of my bed and walk over to the desk in our room. I grab the paper and pencils I stole from the library, and start to draw. Ten minutes later I finished my design. I look around for anything sharp that I can use.

"Hey, Saw?" I ask. I get a 'hmm' in response. "Do you have anything sharp I can use? Like a needle?"

"Does it look like they'd allow a criminal a needle or anything sharp in here?" Sawyer responds sarcastically. "Besides, why would you need it anyway?"

"I want to tattoo myself."I respond, smiling.

"Well, that's one way to keep busy I guess." I hear her whisper. "Let me see the design."

I move over to the bed and hand her the drawing. "What do you think?"

"I love it, Mar." whispers Sawyer. "Why a burning rose though?"

"My siblings called me Rosie as a kid and the fire represents my fire red hair." I explain, having to bend the truth. "One of my brothers used to say it glowed whenever I had a strong emotion."

"Well, it's beautiful." Sawyer compliments. "Why don't you use the broken pen as a needle. It should be sharp enough. Just open the other pens and use the ink in them for the tattoo."

I walk over to the table and grab the empty ink pen. I go to the small sink in our room and thoroughly wash out the pen. Going back to the desk, I open up the other pens, spilling the ink onto the table.

I grab the design from Sawyer, and lay it on my skin. I walk over to the sink, and readjust the tattoo to be on my shoulder. Turning the water on, I wet the paper, hoping the ink will bleed through and onto my skin.

A few minutes later, I peel the rest of the paper off, seeing that it did bleed through a little. Walking back over to the desk, I sit down grabbing the clean pen and dip it in some ink. I then poke the ink into my skin.

I do this a few more times until I see the color appear. I continue doing this for a few hours, with only the moon light in our cell.

Once it's done, I wipe it off with some paper towels, holding one of the paper towels to it, I lay back down and go to sleep.

I wake up two hours later to the sound of the guards banging on the cells to wake us up. I get up and out of bed, removing the paper towel to see the tattoo still there, though a little faded.

 I stand in front of the desk, hiding my mess, Sawyer beside me. A woman guard walks into the room and starts searching our room. Once she's almost done, she moves me and Sawyer to the side, looking at the mess on the desk.

"Which of you did this?" the guard asks.

Neither of us speak, we just lean up against the wall.

"You don't wanna talk. Okay, I'll just check you both over." the guard comes up to us and starts searching our skin. She starts with Sawyer, finding nothing.

She then comes to me and starts checking. Once she gets to my shoulder, she stopped.

"Did you do this?" she asks softly.

"Possibly." I mutter.

"You got talent kid." she responds. "But, you will die if you continue this. But, I can get you a tattoo kit, if you do something for me."

"Done." I answer quickly, surprising all three of us. "What do you need?"

"I heard you were a good thief. I need you to grab the keys from the warden. He has something of mine. I want it..." starts the guard.

"Got it. Don't need your whole life story." I cut her off. "I'll have it done by tomorrow."

"Good." whispers the guard.

She then walks out of the room, leaving both me and Sawyer shocked.

"What just happened?" Sawyer asks.

"I think we just got an ally in the guard." I respond, smirking.

It's been two weeks since we were asked to steal the keys from the warden. We did it. But, we also got caught. After it was done. Two week's in solitary for me, for being the lookout and distraction and a month for Marah for actually stealing them and then punching a guard when she got caught.

To say she has anger issues, would be an understatement. I got out of solitary an hour ago, and now have just been sitting out in the yard.

I've been asked by my lawyer that was assigned to me by the state to give up all the information I have on Marah, to get my sentence reduced. Even saying things I did, and pining them on her.

No one believes she'll be getting out in five years. They say ten at the earliest. 

It's times like these that I wish I could just escape, or forget about this place. We did get the tattoo gun from the guard, whose name I learned to be Beatrice.

I took all of Marah's designs and started doing them on myself. She drew over a hundred since being in solitary. Bex, which is what I call Beatrice, picks them up for me. We've got other inmates asking for me to tattoo them.

To think, a year ago I was a runaway from New York, who wound up in Dallas, Texas of all places and then met my crazy best friend when we broke into the same house, and I threw my knife at her.

"Hey, head back to the cell." says one of the guards. He's been bugging me for an hour. I stopped listening thirty minutes ago. "I'm not gonna ask you again."

"Then don't." I reply, send a smirk towards him.

I ended up in the infirmary with a black eye and broken nose and then back in solitary for three day's after I punched the guard.

To be fair, he was asking for it. And he started it. I just ended it.