Bad apple (freewrite)

'That wasn't too smart now, was it?' he whispered, locking his fingers around her bony wrist and pulling her back. He stared into the girl's terrified eyes and saw himself, what he could've been once.
'I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to run, I swear,' she blabbered and he clenched his fist tighter until she stopped speaking.
'That's enough. I don't care what you were trying to do,' and he hurled her unto the metal bench, cold and most uninviting.
She bit her lips, not quite staring at him. She was fighting the urge to beg, to ask him not to hurt her because almost always that resulted in getting hurt.
'I'm not going to hurt you,' he said, sitting down beside her, careful not to touch her so that she would not scream. That bastard of a guard had already given him the stink eye once this night and he was hell-bent on making sure it didn't happen again. The pigs would be all too happy to come in and bust his ass if this little insect started screaming her head off.
'I won't hurt you,' he repeated, 'but only if you promise not to scream. If you do, I'll break your fucking arm before he's realized what's happening,' he told her, nodding at the guard.
The girl swallowed hard and cursed her luck. She'd known she was in trouble when the police first showed up, but this was getting dangerous. Weren't they supposed to lock her up with other girls?

'Tough luck, luvvy, it's the only spot we got. Lots of bad apples out an' about tonight.'

The policeman had looked at her, dead serious, and told her to wait quietly until someone came to pick her up. It would be her mother, again, a little wearier than the last time, just a bit more sad. And they'd say nothing on the ride home and she'd saunter into her room, and nobody would come after her, because it was mutually agreed she'd outstayed her welcome.
If she made it through, that was. She stared at the big, burly man she'd been locked in with. She hated thinking of it, but he looked like a prisoner. One of those real mean-guys that can fuck you up, One of those people who actually deserved to be in here, she told herself.

'I know,' he said suddenly, making her jump. 'I know what you're thinking, little girl.'
He sat so close to her she could feel the stale onions on his breath, the stench of decay. She peered into his mouth – missing two teeth right up at the front – and gulped. The thug took no notice.
'You're thinking you've learned your lesson. You're thinking you won't do it again. Actually, what did you do? Not that it matters, but humor me. I'm gonna be in here a good long while, methinks.'
Tanya glanced over to the guard at the end of the hall once more, almost pleading with him to come over and tell her her mum was here. But he did not, for this was not a fairytale or a bad dream. This was quite plainly life.

She looked back at the man, waiting patiently beside her. He was picking his teeth, she noticed and had to keep herself from grimacing.
'I...It all started with this guy. I don't know what happened really, we just..clicked I think. I met him in this club, em, The Gazette, and he gave me something. I don't know what it was...'
'You do,' he said, very serious. A sentence that took no arguments.
'I suppose I do, but I didn't mean to, I swear, it was just, I slipped up and –'
'Save it for the judge, honey, or your Dad or whoever gives a shit 'cause I sure don't.'
'Anyway, we were back at his place and –'
'And the police showed up and now you're waiting for your Mum or your Dad to come and get you out of here so that you can go home and promise you won't fuck up again. But you will. You're looking at me and you're thinking I won't be like him, no way. And you'll try to stay out of trouble, for a week, or a month, but never for too long. And then you'll just end up back here, with your ass on this cold fucking metal bench.'
He shrugged, what you gonna do? And Tanya shook her head. She could feel the hot, heavy tears forming in her eyes and she fought them hard, afraid of what he might say and even more afraid that if she actually cried, then the game would be over.
'You can, if you want, it won't change a thing,' the man said, spying her out of the corner of his eye.
'How do you know?' She was so close to sobbing now, but she would not.
'Because,' he said, turning to face her, 'I know your type. You ever hear the phrase 'a disaster waiting to happen'? That's you. You're a magnet for bad shit, kiddo. A bad lot. I know, it sucks, I agree. But we all want to be good, don't we? Everyone thinks they're the little hero in their own crappy fairy-tale, but if you think about it, that's impossible. We can't all be heroes, it's physically impossible. There have to be some bad people amid the good, otherwise Earth wouldn't be Earth, you know? You're just one of those people.'

And Tanya sat, biting her lip and crying silently and vowing she'd never do it again, that she'd never fuck up again, that she would prove this motherfucker wrong.
But she would not.

Today's prompt was 'not smart' and this is the story that followed. I hope you like it and that you support the freewriting community, particularly @mariannewest, our fearless leader.

Thank you for reading,