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Loneliness.
It was something that Franky actually craved whilst held behind iron bars, but now she was a free woman she missed the disturbance that prison life offered. The crying of first-timers; the click-clack of Miss Bennett's heel's on the floor; the slamming of doors and 'clunk' of metal gates. There was never a moment of silence in Wentworth, not even in the middle of the longest night.
Oh, but how Franky craved for some chaos in her silence right this moment.
She lay in her double bed, her studio suddenly feeling very quiet and still. She was not used to the silence that freedom offered, and she felt a little uneasy by it. And she felt very, very alone. There was no Boomer across the unit to argue over TV shows with, or Liz to share a cuppa with. She had Bridget, but Bridget was across town in her house, and how Franky longed to hold her right now. Two weeks of freedom had seen their relationship blossom from one of desperate longing behind grey walls, to that of the (almost) freedom to be at ease with each other. Their relationship had to be kept under wraps for now, but Franky could live with that.
She reached over to the unit next to her bed for her phone and tapped out a text message to the woman who somehow knew the contents of her mind as well as she did.
'Can't wait to spend the weekend with you Gidge, wish you were here now.'
It was 23.43 on a Thursday, and Bridget would most likely be asleep, ready for another day in Costa del Wentworth; Franky had no pressing plans tomorrow morning, some more job hunting and CV distribution. But she had been in her bed since 9.30pm, the regimented routine from 5 years in prison still engrained in her subconscious. She turned onto her side and pulled the quilt over her body, wishing for sleep to come, but it did not.
00:31. Still awake. 00:39. No sign of sleep anytime soon. She opened the small window, welcoming any noise from the street below, a small comfort. Suddenly, there was a quiet tap on her front door. She stayed silent for a few seconds, wondering if she was hearing things but the tapping came again. She swung her legs out of bed and padded across the studio, half curious, half worried. She opened the door, slowly and cautiously, but relaxed when she saw who was there.
"I figured you could do with some company?" Bridget was stood there, all grey satin pyjamas and Ugg Boots and loosely braided blonde hair, and Franky's heart melted. She let the psychologist in, and as she watched her climb into her bed, she swallowed the lump in her throat. No one had ever turned up at Franky's door just because, especially in the middle of the night. Franky climbed into Bridget's open arms and let the blonde hold her.
If she wasn't already a little bit in love with Bridget Westfall, she damn near was now.