tamingthemuse | 66 - Hue and Cry - Blending Behind the Disarray - Because You're Mine - Zippit

Title: Blending Behind the Disarray
Author: Zippit
Fandom: NASCAR AU
Series: Because You're Mine
Character(s): Dale Earnhardt Jr; Dale Jr POV
Prompt: #66 - hue and cry (7.11)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 693
Written For:

tamingthemuse
Completed: October 27, 2007
Disclaimer: Not real; don't know them, don't claim to know them. Only the makings of my imagination.
Author’s Note: Well... the muses do love to bred. *headdesk* This one was really interesting to write because of all the things *I* had no clue about until this was written. Evidently lots of things I thought genuine were all an act. Hehe, this set is gonna be fun, but then they're all fun.
Summary: It's the false impressions he wants to leave behind.

Blending Behind the Disarray

The colors in here are different than on the outside. It’s the stark orange blaring bright against the dull sameness of the interior that gets to me. I can’t even capture it the way I want, preserve the memory however unforgettable to everyone else it may be. I know my quirks and I’d rather give into them than be tempted into something else.

Sit with my back against the wall, well within view of the guards, as much good as it’ll do me. Shudder runs through me and I tap the small stick in my hand against the dirt harder. I know they had that bathroom covered with surveillance. Last thing my family did before disinheriting me was post my bond. Read up on all the possible places I could land, worst to best, and this place is somewhere right in the middle.

The NCCF’s ain’t that bad. Crowd’s rougher than expected and fuck it all with all the prep I’d done, it still was an experience walking through for the first time. Eyes running over me like some new plaything brought in to sate their hunger. Swallow past the round stopper lodged up there permanently and finger the places where tears were in the first jumpsuit.

Glance around, everyone’s still giving me a wide berth. It’s gotta be that dude’s doing. Don’t know what the hell he was doing. Don’t even know if what I heard was really said. Mine? What does “mine” mean in here? It’s like entering a foreign country with only the barest knowledge of what’s right and wrong. You can understand them fine, but the translation still gets you into a heap of trouble because it ain’t mean the same thing.

The “art” in here drives me insane. So much crap I could put to paper, but all I get is some dirt in the corner of the yard and the stick I pocketed the first day I was turned out among the “herd.” It gets swept away each night or maybe even stomped on as the new favorite pastime. My fingers itch for some decent paper and pencils or long for a fully equipped graphics computer with tablet and printer.

Those days are long gone. I ain’t stupid enough to even think I could get those things with good behavior. No way is it in the budget. We get alright things. A library that suits the prison’s needs, good sized land, work out equipment to keep everyone occupied, decent sized TVs, and food that’s a good deal better than I expected.

They all think I’m stupid. Swear it’s the accent. They ain’t know I can drop it like that. Works good with fooling the mark and paired with the right disguises make witnesses hard pressed to ever id me if I passed them on the street. I see more, I hear more than they’ll ever suspect.

Heard that dude who saved my ass was carted off to solitary after a small sojourn in the infirmary. Hope he didn’t take too many licks for me. I ain’t worth that much pain. Wonder when my mysterious benefactor gets out if he’ll come find me. Got a feeling he will. Those words of his as he locked his gaze with mine, ain’t mean nothing.

Shake my head, that’s not here or now. It’s only been a few days, I got time to think of how I’ll respond. They all think I’m the doe eyed fresh meat. Could I pull off keeping that impression up?

Maybe. Lean toward the side and start doodling in the sand. It’s nothing impressive, not with this dull ass stick as a pencil, but it’s the little entertainment I got. You gotta be here a long time ‘fore you get control of the TV privileges. So all I got is drawing in the dirt.

It’s soothing and it furthers the impression I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time to end up in here. They all don’t know nothing. Let my mind drift into strategies, plans and counter-plans. I ain’t gonna be eaten up and spit out by this place. Not at all.