Authoress Notes: Bwahaha, Kyla and Lorrie helped me come up with a soundtrack~ You guys rock meh socks! ...If I were wearing socks, anyway. *wiggles toes* And I'm hiding from all the possible Tear x Luke (ToA) bunnies that might come and bite me to write them...I might write one, just to get over this obsession. Eh.

Claim: Kyla helped me come up with Annetta's name. :D

Disclaim: Don't own anything. Yet, anyway.

Soundtrack: Be My Escape - Relient K

Sweet Escape

01

The white walls were really beginning to become a pain. A monotonous, one-tone pain. And she hated it. She stuck her tongue out at the wall, glaring and hoping that it would spontaneously combust before pulling the blanket around her tighter. Her hair clung to her face in semi-dry clumps, and she pulled them away in annoyance.

She had been placed here after receiving new, dry clothes, and she had flipped the director the bird once he had turned his back on her to leave. She hated it here, and she didn't know why she was stuck here. But there was an advantage to it, Annetta supposed as she flopped onto the rather uncomfortable mattress.

She knew just about every single hidden passage way around this place and the underground network that led to who knows where. She had always been too afraid to explore it on her own, a mixture of phobia concerning the dark and the fact that if there were something down there, nobody would ever know where she had gone and therefore she'd be a rotting corpse below the institution.

Sighing softly, Annetta pushed her hair away from her face and focused her flighty attention span upon the boring color of the ceiling while her mind wandered upon the events of the day. She wondered who the newcomer was, the one who had saved her. She had never seen his face around before, and so he was most definately the newest rat to be shoved in this sad excuse for a containment facility.

This place was Hell on Earth.

Too many times had she imagined herself elsewhere as a child, pretending that she was a princess and that this was her castle. Or that she were waiting for her knight to come and save her. And for a short time, she had believed it, that there was a handsome boy who would come and whisk her away, and she would ride off into the cliche sunset with her happy ending.

But as she got older, the dreams faded like the hope that she would be leaving here. It had all vanished, and the place was slowly draining her cheer from her persona the longer she stayed. But she had nowhere to go, and she was sure that she'd die here, a prisoner of some fucking crappy hand dealt by the cruel bitch herself, Fate.

Footsteps approached the door, slow and hesitant as a face made itself known, and she found her attention brought to the person. "Director Shane would like to see you," the orderly informed, flinching when she stood.

Raising an eyebrow, Annetta shrugged. What did they think she was, a serpent in a body? That would be awesome, though. Grinning to herself, she winked teasingly at the orderly who flinched and looked like he was about to pee his pants. Laughing, she trailed the all too familiar pathway to the director's office, which seemed to be a sharp contrast to the morgue-like air of this place.

She found herself at the door, which she eyed with apprehension before pushing it open. The soft scent of a candle reached her nose, the flame flickering from it's place on his desk as she approached. He turned in his swivel chair, and she was strongly reminded of a scene from The Godfather.

Suppressing laughter at that notion, the smile played around her lips like an impish gesture, and she clasped her hands behind her back, rocking on her heels. "So, whatcha need me for?"

He simply observed her for a few moments before he stood, and the smile melted as he approached her, the teasing light extinguished when his hand, rough and calloused, came up to cup her left cheek.

"Don't touch me, please." she said, though there was hidden venom in her words as she gave him a disgusted look. He looked hurt for a moment as she took a step back, watching him like he was a wolf, and she was the fuzzy lamb that he was about to devour for dinner. Yum, lamb chops!

Rolling her neon evergreen eyes, she watched him as she perched herself upon the arm of a chintz chair.

"Can a father not see her daughter every once in a while?" he questioned mildly, though the look to his eyes was piercing, and she felt anger rise like a tidal wave as she slipped off the chair.

"Daughter?" she scoffed, shaking her head as she turned towards the door, shooting him a look of disgust. "You haven't seen me as your daughter since you brought me here. So save it, father." Annetta spat the last word like it was a dirty word that defiled her mouth, and she slammed the door behind her.

The anger roiled long after her encounter with the horrid beast she shared DNA with, and she sat in her cell, sulking as she glared at the floor, arms folded over her chest. She hated it here because she had no reason to be here. He thought she was sick, and that he could use her to further his own gain. Who wouldn't pity a director who's own daughter was trapped in some twisted psychosis?

Slowly, anger gave out to boredom, and she threw herself onto the floor instead of the bed, inching underneath it while her fingers searched the smooth floor in front of her, a smile finding it's way across her lips when she found the unnatural groove and hooked her fingers into it, pulling up and over.

A piece of floor came away in her hands, and she placed it down carefully before shifting so that her legs slipped through the shadow darkened square before grabbing hold of the ladder and easing herself down, slipping the stone back into place behind her. Or rather, above her.

The hallway before her was thrown into shadows, making it difficult to see without a light, though she felt her way down the narrow cooridor and then up another ladder, pushing the stone upward. Light bathed her grimy form, and she brushed dirt and whatever else collected down there from her flesh before returning the stone and standing.

She knew where she was, having traveled this way countless times. She was further down the hall than her room was, and she turned, trekking down the long stretch of cold gray stone. The boy from before haunted her thoughts, and the itch of insatiable curiosity made her want to find his room so that she could know his name. He had to be somewhere, unless he was a spector, merely in her imagination.

Shaking her head, the silverette moved down the pathway at a quicker pace, smiling as she did so. She would find him, she knew she would. And so, with renewed vigor that had never completely burned out, she continued her search.