I had to go through the electronic gate and three doors before I was able see my client. Some juvenile offenders consider this place a dungeon, others a sanctuary; it depends on where and what they’re coming from. The Four O’s were bound to have members inside, and I was worried about what they might do to my client. I was relieved to see that she had no new wounds and the old ones were starting to heal. Her bruises had turned into a rainbow of muted colors. The swelling had gone down and I could see her eyes again. She had clean bandages on her cuts. Her hair had been washed and brushed. I’d been expecting to find her anxious and scared, but she was calmer than I’d seen her. Home might not be such a bad word for this place. It was a structure that could protect her from herself and others. “It looks like you’re doing all right,” I said. “It’s not so bad in here. I have phone privileges, at least, and I don’t have to be around my mother and Leo.” “Leo doesn’t have anything to do with your being in here, does he?”
