untouchable - part one
(present carol denning/reader)
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about the main charaâyou. youâre 34, stubborn, and a dumbass. your name is celia bird. have fun falling in love with carol denning. dumbass. (same)
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Obviously, your first night in prison was going to be hard. You just didnât expect for it to be this fucking hard.
Before youâve even been an inmate for 24 hours, you get shanked.
Youâre still not sure exactly what you did. You know you have a habit of testing peopleâs boundaries, but you really thought that youâd successfully kept to yourself all day. Apparently not. Youâd retired to your lumpy bed early, hoping to avoid trouble, and you were just beginning to drift off to sleep when you were jolted into awareness by a firm hand over your mouth, and then a splitting pain in your side. The shadow over your body chuckled, then disappeared, and you scrambled out of bed, clutching your bleeding stomach.
âOh, for Christâs sake,â your bunkie had complained when she saw you. Her name was Smith, and she was a large, square-jawed woman in her forties, with minimal belongings. âI thought I told you, no mess.â
The infirmary is even more minimal than Smithâs cell. A few beds and chairs in a single room, with one nurse supervising, until the doctor appears for several minutes, then leaves again.
Youâre given a bandage, some Vicodin, and a sedative. After that, youâre too sleepy to pay attention to your surroundings, so you close your eyes.
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You wake up from a rough nightâs sleep. Your side aches like the time you had appendicitis, and without opening your eyes, you reach down and press lightly on your wound, as if to staunch the pain. When you try to roll over and go back to sleep, you are kept awake by unfamiliar sounds: monitors beeping and other people snoring. Reluctantly, you open your eyes.
Of course. Prison. Somehow you had forgotten.
You glance around at the patients in the infirmary with you. Most of those who are awake glance back, then return to looking down, but one woman stares, hard. You frown at her sceptically. Sheâs middle aged, with dry, auburn hair, and round glasses. Her eyes are dark, and they burn into you, clearly trying to convey the message that you ought not be staring back at this woman.
You ignore the message, and meet the womanâs temperamental glare as if youâre untouchable and werenât just shanked. You watch her, and she watches you. The longer you stare, the more you realise that this was a horrible mistake, and you should have just fucking gone back to sleep.
But you donât stop. And neither does she.
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Carol Denning. The woman with the round glasses is called Carol Denning.
Sheâs the highest of the high in C-block, and when you return to Gen Pop, your bunkie tells you that sheâs probably going to kill you for looking at her. Lucky for you, for some undisclosed reason, she doesnât. You do catch her and her crew shooting you glances every now and then, though, and sometimes thatâs almost as scary as the thought of being murdered. These women know how to throw a fucking glare. Carolâs looks in particular always manage to make your heart freeze with fear. When she stares at you, it feels as if youâre the only thing she can see. You are the worldâand she wants to destroy you.
Occasionally, when sheâs absorbed in her bridge game, or talking to her gang in the yard, you find yourself looking at her tooâbut only when youâre sure she wonât notice.
This woman seems to draw the attention of everyone around her, like sheâs the light in a room of little moths, but most are well-trained enough to resist looking at her as best they can. But youâre different: youâre a foolhardy risk-taker (in other words, a moron), and although sometimes thatâs a liability, sometimes it serves you well. How it will serve you this time is still up in the air, but youâre ready to find out.
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Youâre coming back from the showers when you see Carol at her bridge table unwrapping a red lollipop. This time, you donât stare, although you do take a second to question why such an allegedly tough woman is so into candy. This is the fourth time youâve seen her with some kind of sucker or sweet. Before she can finish unwrapping the lollipop though, Reiner, in a fit of chuckles, shoves her in the shoulder, and the sucker clatters to the floor and rolls towards you.
After giving Reiner an unfavourable look, Carolâs gaze follows the candy, then drags from your feet to your eyes. âNew girl,â she says, nodding at you. âPass that back to me.â
You know you shouldnât rock the boat. You know you were shivved a week and a half ago. But you just canât see why this woman is so untouchable. âWhy should I?â you ask.
Carolâs lips turn to a thin line, and she tilts her head to the side. âDo you want to find out?â
All the women at her bridge table are staring at you. Some look a little impressed, but most look thoroughly disapproving.
âWhat if I do?â you ask.
A couple of women at the table chuckle, clearly eager to see you get hurt.
âYouâre insane,â Carol says, incredulous. You wait for the threat. It doesnât come. Instead, Carol pats the table. âCome sit with us.â
Youâre not an idiot. You know what this means, being allowed to sit at this table. Itâs a move that could thoroughly backfire.
Thatâs never stopped you before, though.
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You donât get to sit at Carolâs table often. That makes it all the more special when you doâyouâre the only person who isnât part of the inner circle who gets to sit there, and youâre grateful to have been allowed even once, let alone every couple of weeks.
Some of the women at the table mock you for being a newbie. You sass them. After a while, you start to get the feeling that you have a free pass for backchat. Every time you mouth off at someone, you know Carol could shut you up in a second, but she never does. Even when you sass her.
Itâs hardly the happiest situation youâve been in, but you feel indescribably lucky. This is far less gruelling than you thought prison would be.
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CO Hellmann wakes you up at 5am on Wednesday morning. You donât know whatâs happening.
âInmate Bird. Youâre switching cells,â he tells you. âGet your shit.â
Confused, you load your belongings and your bedding into your laundry bag, then let Hellmann lead you across the empty common area. There is only one other cell door open. Itâs Carolâs.
Sheâs sitting up in her bed when you come in. âBottom bunk, Birdie,â she says.
Cautiously, you put your bag down, and sit on the edge of the bed. âDid I do something?â you ask. You donât even know if youâve done something right or wrong.
âI was getting sick of Brock,â Carol says, climbing out of her bunk. âBitch snores like a sledgehammer.â
âWhat makes you think Iâll be any better?â
Carol folds her arms, and shrugs. âYouâre funny. Youâre not a pussy. I can live with that.â
Hm. You just wonder if you can live with her.
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thank you to @caroldenningimagines! your amazing works inspired me to start this fic :)










