Confidential (41 page)

"I love you." He kissed me, before pulling away, "And I'll call you as soon as I land." I had a goofy grin on my face, because I was pretty sure that knowing that would make anything bearable. He kissed me again, "I'll miss you every second of every day, until I get to see you again."

Dylan and Marcus said their goodbyes next, and Camdon held onto me until I really had to go, or else I would miss my flight. I couldn't help but feel waves of emotion wash through me, as I missed my friends and Camdon already.

Chapter 22

I waited for Anna to pick me up, because I wasn't too keen on driving to a prison. It was kind of far away, and I was not going to try concentrating on the road. My mind was surprisingly clear. If I was told that I would have to meet Mickey
a
couple days after I found her in my house, I would have been beyond frightened. It would be tortuous and I most likely would have been really afraid. A couple weeks after, I would have been angry, bitter about having to leave, and would have most likely wanted to get into a shouting match. But now its been several months, and I knew I was no longer terrified of the idea of her, I knew I was still angry, but it wasn't a rage; I felt much more at ease, and happy that I got away as good as I did. I know from the trial how truly awful she could be, and I was happy that I was unharmed and safe.

Anna, however, did not seem to understand the emotional progress I had made, and walked on eggshells around me, constantly asking how I felt about it, as if it would have changed from seconds earlier- the last time she asked how I was doing.

"Are you sure your okay?" Anna asked me nervously.

"No." I said, sarcastically, "You should probably keep asking me every two minutes, just in case I change my mind."

She gave me that look, that one that made me shrink a little, and I grumbled an apology, before wondering about Camdon and how his mom was adjusting to the news. He was supposed to talk to her about it today.

"Alrighty. We're here!" Anna smiled, if I wasn't in the desert, near the female prison, I could have mistaken our destination as Disneyland, with the constant peppiness that seemed to ooze out of Anna's pores.

It was more than surreal, seeing how much my life had changed around in the past year. Just being at a prison was proof of that. I walked up numbly through the gates, and got checked by the guards- it felt like a more intense dose of airport security. After being padded down and searched, we were walked through several rooms that were heavily locked down. The walls around us were stone, and the doors were a thick metal. I couldn't even imagine escaping a prison. How do you get through steal, cameras, and guards? It seemed impossible. And I thought that in prison, you had nothing to do, but there was
a
library and a game room, a TV room, a medical center, and an outside area. It seemed like a sweet deal to me, except you know, spending your whole life here.

The guards took us to the visitor's room, which was literally an empty room. They held it open for me to enter, and I panicked, slightly, seeing as I would be going in alone, but I kept my breath calm as my heart pounded in my chest. The room was once white, but now had a grimy layer of gray permanently fixtured on the walls. It was small, and extremely cold; there was simply a table and two chairs placed in the center of the room. I walked in and frowned, seeing it empty. I jumped when the guard shut the door, realizing just how alone I was, and hesitantly sat down in one of the cheap, tin-like
chairs
.

The door opened several long moments later, and Mickey walked in, wearing a jumpsuit, her feet and hands handcuffed. Her red hair was unkept, and she wore no makeup, making her face look much older and haggard than its normally done up form. The prison guard roughly pushed her forward, and she unmistakably scoffed, a prideful look of stone coming across her face as her gaze fell on the guard. He stood next to the doorway, as an observant, or protector, I'm not really sure. Mickey sat in the chair across from me, and smiled coyly.

"You know, I don't believe we ever truly got the chance to meet." Her eyes were a hazel color, and had a certain humored gleam to them. She watched me for a moment, slowly looking me up and down. "I'm Mickey, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." She laughed a little at the end.

She was coming off a bit weird. She behaved so normally, that it wasn't normal. It was out of place. I didn't know what to expect, but she seemed at ease, lounging in her chair as if it were the seat of a queen, as if she wasn't forced to be here, but choose to be here.

"It's rude to stare you know." Mickey cocked her head to the side slightly, leaning back in her chair, her arms resting lazily to the side.

"There's nothing else to look at." I commented. Not really sure what to say. "These rooms are kind of…bleak."

Mickey scoffed once again. "Understatement. I find this place very unbefitting, and," She turned her head towards the guard, her words dripping sourly off of her tongue, "Very, very unwelcoming."

I didn't say anything in response. I didn't want to drive all the way out here to chat. She obviously wanted something.

Sighing, Mickey continued, "I see your no fun. I haven't had one interesting person to talk to since I've been here. It's driving me crazy." She leaned forward a little bit, "So, tell me about yourself." I frowned, and crossed my arms in front of myself. Her eyes literally squinted a bit, and she sat up straight. I was instantly reminded of the command she had over her men. Her body gave off a sense of power, her posture somehow showed her authority. She was one of those people that by simply being near her, she made you feel like you were in the presence of something great, someone who wasn't just a normal individual.

"My name is Heidi Van Dauson," I began, "I'm seventeen."

"Why did you tell the police about me?" She asked, looking like the little things such as name and age weren't the aspects of me she wanted to hear about.

"Because you hurt me." I replied simply.

She laughed at my words, "I saved you." She spat, "And how do you repay me? By getting me into jail." Mickey shook her head; "Of all the things I've done, and covered up so well, a seventeen year old sends me to jail. I knew I should have just killed you."

Hearing someone talk about the end of my life so easily made me shudder. "But I suppose," Mickey went on, "I did ruin your life." She smiled a satisfied smile.

"Not really." I said, offhand.

"Not really?" She raised her eyebrow. "Because if I remember correctly, you're the one with the sob story, about how your life was torn apart, when the police hid you from me."

I paused, before staring her directly in the eye. "That's true, I suppose. But it's not all like that. My life was torn apart, for sure." My mind wandered to the past year, "But I know how lucky I am, I know how fortunate I was. The hard part was going back to my life before."

She watched me speak, curiosity showing on her face, but I continued to speak, attempting to explain, somehow needing to explain. "All my friends go on and talk about this trivial drama that used to be so important in my little world. And I would sit there, the first couple weeks I came back, and listen to them speak and just think to myself, 'What am I doing here?' I mean, there are people who are battling for their lives, or working themselves to the bone to make sure that people like you stop hurting others, and there I was-listening to my friends freak out about something their parents wouldn't buy for them, or some guy that rejected a date from this girl."

I shook my head at the memories, "It was so incredibly insignificant." I smiled grimly, "I feel like I matured a lot. There are parts of my personality that I don't particularly have that much… control over, like I wish I could. But at least now I feel like I understand what's really important."

I looked deep into her eyes as I spoke, "The people I have relationships with, the life I have, that's what is significant. The clothes I own, or the car I get: in the grand scheme of things, it won't mean anything to me. It's like a quick fix of satisfaction, and I no longer need that." I struggled to find the words, "I guess, what I'm saying, is my life was torn apart, but its better than it was before."

"How interesting." Her voice came out faded and pensive, Mickey seemed to be deep in thought, and didn't speak for several moments. "This is going to sound desperately unoriginal, but it's true." She smiled at me, the gleam in her eyes, "You remind me of myself. And don't think I'm only saying that, because if I didn't see myself in you I would have had you killed right after your testimony."

Her eyes hardened and I fought not to flinch under such an intense gaze. "You spited me. I gave you your life and then you aided those naïve cops that think I'll be in here longer than a couple years." She chuckled, "But it's no matter. I like you. I knew you were a feisty one when Greco tried to pick you up and you kicked him in the face. That memory still gives me joy. Unfortunately, I'm in here, and you're out there."

Mickey looked around the room, eyes lingering on the security guard, and leaned in and whispered to me, "I'll be out soon. It's only a matter of time. They
need
me; I told the FBI a bunch of names, and the whole drug cartel will be out of sorts. Then I'll be released, and have absolutely no competition." She laughed quietly, "I'll take it all." Pausing, she continued, "A girl with some spunk like you, we're gonna need those in this world. How do you think I control so much? You say the relationships you have with people is important, but keep them at a distance, they'll always disappoint you on a personal level."

"Sometimes it's worth the disappointment." I told her, "You run drug cartels, even though you could go to jail. It's all what you think is worth it. And for the record, you'll die alone, if you keep up your manipulating schemes. You have to have some close relationships, don't you?"

She ignored my question, "Would you want to work with me sometime?"

I was a little taken aback. "Um. No." I said, rudely.

She smirked, "Think on it. I'll need someone to inherit my position someday. I'll gladly give it you. We need more women in illegal smuggling, it's sickening how stupid men are."

I rolled my eyes at the redheaded woman, "People in general are stupid."

She laughed, "I agree."

"That's why, though," I said, "when you find one who isn't, it's actually worth your time to get to know them."

She sighed, "You haven't lived long enough to know that."

I frowned, and started to say something, but the guard walked forward. We both looked at him, his sudden movements seeming strange.

"Time's up," The guard the said sternly; his voice booming and echoing across the empty room. He walked over to Mickey, "Get up." He commanded, standing over her sitting form, looking down at her.

"I can't wait until I get out of here." She told me, being yanked up by the arm. "Come visit another time, I know I intrigue you." Mickey looked back at me, before leaving, "Oh, and tell that police officer friend of yours that I'll take the deal." She winked, "It makes no difference, I won't be here much longer."

I sat for a couple moments, a little stunned by our relatively normal conversation. No shouts, no tears, no threats? I was a bit confused, I figured there would be. I figured she would bring out the worst in me. Mickey was right though; she did intrigue me.