Caging Cadence Ch. 06

Laura knew that the dark, masculine hair, the baggy clothes, and the permanently pissed off expression were all a part of how Cadence protected herself now. Those were her choices, and Laura would never take those away from her.

But what hurt her as a mother were the perpetual bags under her daughter's eyes, the gauntness of her face, the paleness of her skin. Was she eating? Was she getting enough sun, enough fresh air? Laura longed to needle her, but she was overly wary of pushing her daughter away.

She knew Cadence knew that, and had manipulated her. For eighteen months, Laura had steadfastly refused this one request, the one thing Cadence kept insisting on, and the reason they were now taking this awkward drive together.

Cadence had finally resorted to the silent treatment, refusing to answer Laura's calls or let her into her apartment for a full month-and-a-half. Laura had finally relented, terrified of losing her for good.

She still thought it was a terrible idea. She was afraid for Cadence, of course - of what seeing that monster again might do to her fragile mental state.

But, to her immense guilt, she was more afraid of what David might say - that he might hurt her one last time with what Cadence had forgotten. If he did that, Laura knew she would never see her daughter again.

They were nearly to their destination when Laura finally decided to say something.

"Cadence," she started delicately, "honey. Can we talk for a second, please?"

No response. Cadence seemed nearly catatonic, staring at the window blankly, limp against the plastic and glass of the car door. She was clutching her phone, which was pumping loud music into her ears, as if she was afraid someone was going to snatch it out of her hands.

Laura took her hand off the wheel to gently tap her daughter's arm. Cadence jumped, glared at her, then realized her mother was trying to start a conversation.

Rolling her eyes with a sigh, Cadence paused her music and took out one earbud. "What?"

"We're almost there." Laura paused, trying to collect her thoughts, trying to be gentle, but firm. "So I just wanted to say...you can still change your mind."

Another long pause. Cadence let it hang, so Laura pushed on.

"You don't have to do this. Why don't we go get some lunch instead?"

Cadence twisted the earbud between her fingers, raising her eyebrow. Her eyes were blank.

"This was my idea, Laura."

Before the ordeal, she had still called her, "Mom." Laura stifled the urge to cry.

"I know, honey. But your therapist said -"

"Fuck my therapist. She doesn't know what's best for me just because she sat in a classroom for six years. Those sessions are total bullshit. I want to stop going."

Laura paused. She didn't take the bait, knowing Cadence was expecting her to start arguing about continuing therapy instead.

"This might upset you more than you're prepared for," Laura said quietly. "I know you want closure, but what if that's not what happens? What if this triggers another relapse?"

Cadence laughed. It was nothing like her old laugh. It was a hollow, sarcastic sound.

"You'll pay for rehab again. Otherwise, it's not really any of your business, is it?"

Laura fell silent. With how angry her daughter still was, she frequently worried that Cadence remembered more than she admitted to. That she drank so much, and did so many drugs, and went out so much to seedy dive bars, because she was trying to drown out the worst of her memories, the ones which involved Laura herself, with booze and loud music and strange men. But Laura would never, ever broach the subject first. If Cadence wanted to pretend, Laura could too.

They had arrived. Laura's pulse quivered in her wrists, but she maintained a cool exterior, a habit born from a decade in court.

She smoothly navigated her car up to the security booth, showing the disinterested guard her ID. He checked it over, then peered in at Cadence.

"She over 18? I need her ID too."

Cadence's jaw was clenched, and she was pointedly looking everywhere but at the guard. She dug around in her bag, then ripped her ID out of its slot in her wallet. She threw it at her mother, not bothering to see where it landed.

Laura retrieved the little plastic card from the floor, handing it over with an apologetic shrug.

"My name is Laura Clark, I'm a prosecutor -"

She began to explain, but the guard waved her off.

"No need, Ms. Clark. They let me know. Park by the front doors. Cell phones stay in the car, or you lose 'em."

Laura nodded, then pressed the automatic window button. She continued navigating the car slowly through the parking lot. Like most prisons, this was a barren, utilitarian place. Chain-link fences topped with barbed wire, endless concrete, and heavy metal doors. Yet the yard was rather nice - empty, now, because Laura would not subject her daughter to the catcalling and leering imprisoned men were known for - grassy, with a few trees and covered tables.

The scenery was so much better than it should have been. David deserved a dark, lonely, hard cell. Not to play kickball with a bunch of white collar criminals on beautiful summer days. There were some violent offenders here, of course - situations of dubious consent in sexual assault cases, like with David's, but also men who had killed mothers while drunk driving, men who had robbed terrified cashiers at gunpoint, men who had committed manslaughter a decade earlier, but were now serving out their sentences in a more lax prison for good behavior.

All Laura hoped for was that the other prisoners, with their twisted criminal honor, would mistreat David as badly as he had mistreated Cadence. Violence against a pretty young girl, when your cellmates had little sisters or nieces or daughters of their own, often made one unpopular in prison. Yet she knew David was clever, and valued self-preservation above all else. If he'd been smart, he'd kept his mouth shut about the worst details of his crime. Brush it off as a kinky-encounter-gone-wrong with an ex-girlfriend who had a revenge streak.

None of this made Laura feel better about Cadence's plans for the day.

An awkward silence hung between the two Clark women. Laura didn't know what to say, and she knew Cadence didn't want to talk to her.

But how could she let her daughter go into this prison, alone, to face the man who had destroyed her?

Was she a bad mother for this?

She nearly laughed out loud. She was a bad mother for a lot more than just this.

As soon as Laura parked, Cadence hopped out. She slammed her door and didn't even glance back, ripping the other earbud out and shoving the mess of wires and her phone deep into her hoodie pocket.

Laura called out, "He said no phones, honey."

Cadence rolled her eyes, turning around. "Whatever."

She stomped back to the car, ripped open her door, and carelessly tossed her phone back inside.

"Are they afraid I'm gonna take pictures of a bunch of lowlife assholes? Put their ugly, violent faces on the internet? They deserve it."

"Rules are rules," Laura replied, trying to sound firm. She waited until Cadence had closed her door again. "Let's go."

Her daughter didn't move. "You don't have to come inside."

"I do, actually, because it's against the rules to sit out here in your car. Trying to prevent people from acting as getaway drivers in case of an escape, I guess."

Cadence looked around as they walked inside, wrinkling her nose. "Is it that easy to escape?"

Laura shrugged, feeling heat in her cheeks. She tossed her hair back, trying to sound nonchalant.

"It's a minimum security prison, honey. It's secure, but of course there are more lax rules in place than a maximum prison..."

Cadence's face went blank. The only sign of her inner turmoil was her jaw, which she was clenching so hard it was trembling. Laura waited for her to say something else, but she didn't.

They were standing in the entrance to the prison, just before the room with security check-in. She stared at her daughter, and soon the silence became unbearable.

"I'm sorry, Cadence," she burst out.

All the things she had wanted to say since David's sentencing came tumbling out.

"This is all my fault. Everything. Even his sentencing. Especially his sentencing. I can't believe your team fumbled like that - I hand-picked them, they were supposed to be rockstars, I never expected - anyway." She shook her head once, like a horse disturbing an irritating fly.

She changed tactics as Cadence continued to stare at her, emotionless.

"And I'll never believe that bastard was smart enough to erase all of the footage from our security cameras. I was sure there'd be some way to retrieve them, but he was thorough."

For some reason, Cadence blushed at this and looked away. She started walking again, approaching the desk, seeming eager to get away from her mother.

The feeling was mutual.

Relieved they were moving again, she plowed on, "Fucking waste of money, those things. But it's my fault for sharing my password with him. It's my fault for bringing him into your life in the first place. I'll never forgive myself for that."

Cadence whirled. Laura immediately knew she had said the wrong thing. The guard behind the partition was blatantly staring at them, sensing entertaining drama on a boring workday, his mouth hanging open.

Cadence threw her mother a withering look, then spoke in a low, dark voice.

"Good. Because I'll never forgive you, either."

Laura's eyes filled with tears. She blinked. "Cadence..."

"You have to wait here, because I don't have any other way home. And I still need next month's rent check. Lily's portion too - she had other bills that were more important."

Two years ago, this kind of gall would have floored even Laura, who was an admittedly permissive parent. Now, she just wilted under her daughter's cold stare.

"Okay, honey. Go do...do whatever it is you think will help. I'll be here."

Cadence turned, thrusting her ID at the guard, looking sullen. A moment later, she had disappeared behind the bars which separated the real world from the prison world.

Laura dropped into a nearby folding chair and cried.

The guard came back, glanced at her, and proceeded to ignore her.

She would normally never publicly cry like this, especially at a prison that housed people she herself had prosecuted, but she was at her breaking point.

Her biggest fear was that David would tell Cadence what she couldn't remember. But she hadn't been able to stop her from insisting on seeing him. Cadence had even demanded that Laura pull some strings and get the warden to provide them with a private room - with an armed guard watching at the door, of course, otherwise Laura never would have allowed it.

Her daughter was walking into a den of lions to face down the one that had already mauled her.

And Laura was letting her.

But there was a lot about Cadence that Laura couldn't control, now.

And there was even more about her that she didn't know.

***

Soon. He was going to see her again soon.

It had been the only thing dragging him through each day, since his sentencing.

He had known, from the moment he had laid eyes on her in that courtroom, that Cadence wouldn't be able to stop herself from seeing him again.

She hadn't been able to take her eyes off him, nor he off her. The chemistry between them was so electric, even some of the jurors seemed uncomfortable with it.

Cadence was still his. She always would be.

It was no shock he'd gotten such a light sentence. It had been easy to convince the jury that Cadence had wanted to do the things she'd done with David - that he had just gotten carried away. He had been able to destroy the last remaining copy of the security footage before the cops had caught him. And Cadence herself was her own worst enemy, in court. The way she squirmed under questioning, blushed darkly when she was forced to recount the things they had done together, might as well have been a neon sign advertising her soaked pussy.

It had made him hard. When he needed something more to get him there when he was jacking off in his cell at night, he'd bring back those memories of her, shamed and embarrassed, tears pouring as his defense lawyer systematically broke down her testimony. Between that, and his memories of their weekend together, David knew he had a better spankbank than any of the other lowlifes in this prison.

He wasn't happy in prison, obviously. It was a rough, boring existence. He was able to avoid too much violence by befriending the right people, harassing those who opposed them. He worked well as a lackey in prison, letting angrier, bigger men take the fall.

Some of the other prisoners had mocking nicknames for him - the most creative of which were "College" (David had never gone), "Books" (David rarely read), or "Brainiac" (that one, David couldn't deny, and secretly enjoyed.)

He was known for being laid-back and charming, until he wasn't. But every time some guy who had crossed him ended up with a bloodied face or a broken wrist, David always somehow managed to avoid accepting blame or punishment.

He even had a few toys of his own, pretty boys who he could hit when he needed to vent his anger, who wanted him to bury his cock in their throats. It was enough to keep the worst of his lust at bay.

And he'd gotten the last laugh at Cadence. In a prolonged moment of rage, David had scribbled out an obscene letter to her very early on, promising that he would get his revenge on her, and her little friend, Lily, if it was the last thing he did. Some final mean, empty threats to make Cadence fearful, to assure his residence in her head. He hadn't really meant it, and he had only thrown her friend's name in as a way to really get under her skin. A lot could change in a decade. He wasn't sure he'd even want anything to do with Cadence, once he was free.

So it was fine. Ten years wasn't the rest of his life. If he kept fit in prison, kept sharp, there was plenty of time for a guy like him to still enjoy in life after prison.

Two years in, however, he had learned that time was the ultimate enemy.

His fantasies about Cadence, his memories of her, became torturous. All he could focus on was the hope - no, the truth - that Cadence was coming for him. Cadence wouldn't be able to stay away forever. And he had nothing but time and patience, now.

When he got too antsy, he'd dive deep into his darkest, cruelest fantasies, punishing her in ways he had never even threatened in their time together, reveling in his mind's ability to generate violence.

And then, finally, he got the news.

"Your lawyer just called, Schwartz. Private visitor coming tomorrow. Right after yard time, so don't go back to your work shift."

David looked up from the game of checkers he was playing with another inmate.

"Who?" he asked, frowning, but unable to stifle the burst of hope in his chest.

The guard shrugged, already moving on. "Think I give a shit?"

A private visitation, outside of visiting hours, set up several days in advance by his lawyer, without his knowledge or consent.

There was only one woman he knew who was capable of pulling those kinds of strings, and only one reason she would.

Soon. He was going to see her.

David couldn't sleep that night. He kept thinking of her long, scarlet hair, her pretty blue eyes, her sweet mouth. He teased himself, but didn't come, wanting to be as revved up as possible when he finally laid eyes on her again.

When he woke up, he couldn't recall the last time he had felt so agitated. Time, which was never on his side, started mocking him with how slowly it seemed to drip past.

He paced around the field during yard time, refusing to speak to anyone. He was muttering under his breath, rehearsing what he would say when he saw her. It was important to get it right. He ignored the glares and comments this drew from the other men in the yard. Nothing mattered except that she was coming for him, and that he was ready for it.

Finally, the call signaling the end of yard time came. David shuffled towards the doors with the other inmates, his heart rate quickening, his palms sweating.

Soon. He was going.

He approached a nearby guard, trying not to look eager. His boredom apparent, the guard beckoned him away from the other inmates, who were counting off before work detail. Some of them hooted and hollered when David was led away, quick to pick up on any difference that made someone else worth singling out.

David didn't care. It would be worth it.

Soon.

The guard led him to a room near the commissary, where lawyers could meet with their clients one-on-one. Once inside, the guard pointed wordlessly to a table, and David sat down on one side.

The empty chair opposite him seemed to gleam with possibility and excitement, as if the plastic itself knew who would be filling its folds in a few minutes.

The guard, looking immensely bored, handcuffed David to a metal loop in the table, then shackled his ankles together. David took this bondage without complaint, though a part of him couldn't deny that the irony stung a bit.

The minutes dripped by at a glacial pace, slower than his mind could handle. He tapped impatiently on the faux-wood folding table, making the guard scowl at him in irritation.

"Knock it off," the man said tersely.

With extreme effort, David stilled his hands.

Finally, a firm knock on the door broke the silence, and the door opened. Another guard walked through, leading a young woman behind him.

For a moment, David thought there had been a mistake.

He had dreamed nearly every night of Cadence's long, red hair, had pictured a dozen times what it might look like, given the space and time between them. Would it be longer, or shorter? How would she style it for him? Was it cut the same way, or had she changed it?

He had never expected this.

The scarlet waterfall was gone, replaced by short, ebony strands that ended in a blunt cut at the very edge of her earlobes. He blinked, then couldn't stop himself from smirking.

He had gotten her hair after all, in the end.

He took in the rest of her appearance slowly, drinking her in. She kept her head ducked, not looking at him, as she took her place in the plastic chair opposite him. The bags under her eyes caught his attention next - did she lay awake at night like he did, dreaming about their time together? Her cheeks and chin were sharper, and he realized with a pang that she had lost weight. Would she still be as soft and pliable under his hands? Her lips were pale and cracked and peeling, as if she had a habit of biting them. Would she still gasp and wince when he crushed them between his teeth?

Focus, he admonished himself, feeling his cock stir in his pants. His hands pulled automatically in his bindings, as if the cuffs were the only thing stopping him from reaching out and making her his, all over again. His heart was somewhere in his throat, his pulse beating manically. He stated at her, openly, hardly daring to blink, not wanting to miss anything.

Finally, she met his gaze.

It was like an electric shock, followed by a bucket of ice-cold water.

The same blue eyes, yes, and yet...not the same at all. Cadence carried a haunted, jaded look now. All of that innocence that had drawn him in two years ago was gone. She stared right at him, as bold as the sunrise, but there was a wall between her eyes and his.

He couldn't read what she was thinking, at all. Her face was blank, emotionless. Not because she wasn't feeling - he could see her anger in her clenched fists - but because she was so good now, he realized, at hiding her heart.

The guard stepped outside, shutting the door with a snap, but turning to watch them through the glass window. At least they had some modicum of privacy this way. It was easier to face her without an audience.