CHAPTER 1
Vivienne — a girl with a simple wish in life: to live like a cat. No pain, no struggle, just cat, just her partner. She was almost retired from her job as an anonymous spy, but some people used her old connections to force her into one final "mission": get Pen out of prison, by any means necessary.
Pen's parents are really — triple really — wealthy, and their daughter had just slapped them in the face — figuratively — with a drug trafficking charge. Pen is your classic rich bitch: tall, blonde, and smart. But not smart enough to realize that society doesn't need drug dealers with "visionary thinking." Her only redeeming quality? She's not a junkie. She just sells drugs to other junkies. Her parents still believe she can be saved.
Vivienne was forced to assume a fake identity, a fake fucking name — but her real age — to legally break into prison.
Today was the first time Viv met Pen. She tried to approach her — the girl who was over 5'8", face full of confidence but without putting on a show. Viv didn't want to know her sexual orientation or something else. Not that it mattered — Viv didn't plan on using feelings to win her over anyway.
Viv walked up to her, acting natural, though something about it didn't feel coincidental.
"You're new, right?"
"Yeah... sure," Pen said, slightly confused.
"Come with me. Don't mess with 'Crazy Eyes,'" Viv said, gently grabbing Pen's hand and leading her to the table in the corner, where Viv was assigned to fold prison laundry.
"What's your name?" she asked while working.
"Penelope Ives Prescott," Pen answered.
"Such a noble name," Viv said with an exclamation, then smirked. "I'm Alexine Iris Vause. People call me Alex." She slowly turned her gaze to Pipes.
"How old are you?" Viv asked with a smirk.
"Twenty-one," Pen replied, her eyes unreadable.
"Oh... too young to be in prison," Viv murmured.
"How about you?" Pen asked.
"Two years older than you," Viv replied, still folding clothes.
"So, why are you here?" Viv asked casually.
"Drug trafficking," Pen said, regret clouding her expression.
Viv stared at her, thinking something no one else could guess. Then she said:
"It's ironic how it's always rich girls like you pulling tantrums just to feel something cool."
Pen didn't say a word.
Because maybe... that was the truth.
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