Love at the end of the tunnel

DEVILLE, CAM

year

er's license that claimed she was nineteen when she was barely fourteen, just so she could go to prison for the crimes of other family members, especially his darling little girl, Ivy.She knew it was piteous, but she had actually come to enjoy her nights in jail.No doubt, a prison no matter how comfortable it might be, was not the idea place for a teenage girl to enjoy visiting....But Harriet did not mind admitting that she almost enjoyed her nights in prison- the devil name was so well feared, and their under ground world of crime was so well run that even a lowly member of the family like herself never had to spend more than a night in the arms of the law.Lately she had actually found herself wishing that she could spend more time in prison.Her nights in prison were the most restful nights of her life.Her family may treat her like trash, but she was still one of them, and she bore the fearsome DeVille name.Both the policià and the other inmates were wary of her family name, not wanting to do any thing to pitch themselves against the mighty DeVille clan.Their wariness pushed them away from her, and she was left peacefully alone.The fact that she always withdrew into herself when ever some one brave enough tried express any form of interest in her or even tried to talk her, also pushed all her Co prisoners to stay away from her.All this made her time in jail the most peaceful time she would have in weeks.In jail she was left to herself. It was much more than she could ever hope for back at home.In the Castillo, hoping for a full night's rest was nothing but a pipe dream.Ivy liked to use her the same way one would use one of those fancy American stress balls, by squeezing her as tightly as she could to make her feel better.It was certain that she would come in to Harriet's tiny closet of a bedroom at least two times in one night, either because she could not sleep, or because she had had a bad dream, for some reason, the only way she could calm herself down enough to sleep after a bad dream was to pace up and down, dragging Harriet after her by her hair, more often than not, she ended up pulling the hair out.Harriet had enough bald patches to show for the nights she had been used to battle insomnia.In recent years, uncle Carson had taken to spending more than half night in her room, bending her over her bed, while slamming in to her from behind.It was no secret that Carson had turned his neice into his home whore, the whole family and everyone else who worked for the DeVille family was aware, but everyone turned a blind