Enjoy!
Jet slips out from under the cart when he hears the large door be drawn, and even then he had sat in the silence until he was positive there was no one left in the room. He wipes his bloodied hands on his slacks and looks around, squinting in the darkness. There's hundreds of carts, with hundreds of horses all around him. He makes note of this, stashing it away in his mind as another possible escape route.
There's two different doors, apart from the main largest one. Each of them are located on opposite ends of the room and must both lead somewhere completely different. His mind scatters, thinking through all of his options. He could stay in the servant's quarters, where he highly doubted anyone would question his sudden arrival. He could also try and steal a guard's uniform, but he didn't know enough yet. He didn't know which guards did what, and if they had different uniforms. That was out of the question.
He decides the servants quarters is the only way he can go and he slips in through the door on the right, having brief knowledge on some of the hallways the servants used from coming here once and researching the maps of the palace.
The door is locked, but not too difficult to break through. It's a small duster lock made of thin steel. He cuts through it with his dagger and opens the door- half expecting some sort of an alarm to go off- but nothing happens.
The hallways are dark enough for him to slink through with his hood on without being noticed and the warmth of the palace greets him as he slips past a few hallways- quick on his feet. The servants travelled through different hallways to get to all different parts of the hallway- which would definitely serve its importance later on.
He spots a small door, vacant and darkened in the hallway which must only lead to a servant hallway. He pulls it open slowly and realizes it's pitch black. He grabs a torch mounted on the wall beside him, aiding in the lighting of the hallway and shuts the door behind him as he holds it out ahead of him. As he walks, he sheds his layers of black clothing to reveal average Fire Nation robes; he hopes someone like a servant would wear.
He spots a small broom closet, barely small enough for anything more than his pile of weapons and clothes. He removes his sword, his bow and arrows, and all his daggers and knives except for one that is concealed under his robes, wrapped tightly at his waist.
He walks in a daze through the darkness as the flaws of this plan unfold in front of him. He couldn't even put a finger on the flaws, there were so many that circled him as he walked further and further down the hallway. He was so utterly unsure of each step he took- it was completely against his nature- but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe for once not having a plan was the best type of plan to create.
"Who's there?" The high voice startles him and he whirls around to face the direction of the voice. In the darkness, he can make out a pair of luminous hazel eyes and a dark figure that seems to be a girl walking closer to him, the light from the torch accentuating only small parts of her. When she nears him, he makes out the soft features of her face. Dark hair tied in a mess, a straight nose, high cheekbones, bright eyes with long lashes and lips that are set in a frown as her eyes scan him up and down.
"Who are you?" She asks indignantly. She's dressed down in gray fabric that looks more like scraps than any clothing he's ever seen. She seems to be his age, maybe older, maybe younger. He can't tell in the darkness.
He clears his mind and meets her gaze steadily, "My name is Lee, I'm new here," Jet says cautiously, "I was told that these hallways lead to the servants quarters?"
She places a hand on her hip as it juts out and she raises an eyebrow, "Who sent you?"
He stands straighter, thinking of the only name that pops into his mind, "General Chan," He says, "I used to work at his house, but he assigned me to come here."
"In the middle of the night?" She asks, on the verge of disbelief.
Jet sighs, he didn't have time for some girl who was here to interview him, "Does this hallway lead to the servant quarters?"
She stares at him for a moment longer before slowly shaking her head, "You're going towards the kitchens, I was actually on my way there, but since you're here already, you can help me out."
He stands rather awkwardly as she begins walking down the hallway, knowing it well enough to not need any light whatsoever. She glances back at him, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder, "Well? Are you coming?"
He trails behind her until they near an opening to a large room. The kitchens. It's dark and everyone must have left considering it's far past midnight. He moves the torch in his hand to make out the rows of counters and different ovens.
"Just follow behind me, and don't touch anything," She says as she shoves a large metal pot aside. The sound echoes in the room, "Everyone left a while ago, but I was helping with cleaning the cells today and I kind of lost track of time. I just have a couple of things to clean up then we'll head back to the servants quarters."
She trails on, but Jet loses her as he clings to her words. The cells. She must know where the prisoners were being kept. Where Katara is being kept. He forces himself to keep his mouth shut despite the adrenaline he feels. Each moment he waits, could be another form of pain enforced on Katara. But the girl was already suspicious enough.
He stands back as she walks past him over and over, carrying different pots and plates and shoving them into a large basin, "Hand me the metal jar over there," She says, pointing behind him. He gapes for a moment at her authoritative tone, but walks over to where she's pointing and picks up the jar, handing it to her. He hears her huff as she turns a knob and hot water streams down into the basin. She pushes up her sleeves and then she's practically submerged in the basin, her sleeves still getting soaked as she bends further to scrape at the bottom of a large pot.
"Aren't you going to ask for my name?" She asks him, turning to glance at him for a brief moment before reaching and snatching the metal jar off the counter, spraying water everywhere and all over his clothes.
Jet is surprised by her confidence considering she's just a servant girl, but he nods slowly.
She rolls her eyes, "It's June, thanks for being such a gentleman by the way," She says sarcastically, "Shine the torch here a bit, it's too late for me to start oiling the wax to set up a candle."
He obliges and stands stiffly as he watches her scrub. From the faint lightning, he can make out how bad of a shape her hands are in. Calloused and torn open in a number of places, but she scrubs down the pots in record time and sets them aside and then reaches for the plates, getting soapy water everywhere once again.
Jet hands them to her and she merely scoffs at him as she drops them into the basin. She bends over, her hair falling from behind her shoulder and dipping into the water, "Did you get in trouble with him?"
"What?"
"With Chan. What'd you do for him to kick you out?"
Jet shifts, "I wasn't kicked out; he wanted me to stay in the palace to help him." He realizes that lie would come back to strike him in the face at one point, but hopefully he'd be gone by then.
"Were the servants here not good enough for him?" She says, and surprisingly she sounds angry as she scrubs harder.
Jet just shrugs, "Something like that."
She leads him back up the hallway, turning and opening all sorts of doors but not seeming confused in the least. As he walks behind her, he notices her clothes are still drenched with water and her hair hangs limply and loose in a wet pile behind her, but he can make out a marking, mostly revealed by the collar of her shirt, but a small circular band is clearly shown at the back of her neck, disappearing into the fabric. He stares at it longer than he should.
She turns around and raises a slender eyebrow, "Enjoying the view?"
He feels his face heat up, but doesn't say anything as she pushes aside another set of doors and he sees hundreds of bodies, lying fast asleep, separated by a clear glass wall. One side for girls and one for boys, by the looks of it. She slips off her shoes and he bends down to do the same.
She begins walking to the girls side but he grabs her shoulder. She turns around and practically hisses at him, "What?"
He narrowly avoids stepping on someone's arm as he steps closer to her, "Where am I supposed to sleep?"
"Anywhere you can find," She says quietly, motioning towards the ground, "Your real work starts tomorrow anyways."
He watches in dumbfounded silence as she slips through the glass panel and pulls off an over layer of her clothing and slips into the darkness he can't make out. Jet glances around. There's thin cushioning all over the floor, meaning he can really sleep in any space he can find. He walks closer to the glass panel, careful not to step on any body part, and finds a small amount of space and lowers himself to the ground. An elderly man stirs beside him and grumbles at him but turns over.
He's not tired at all, but he still turns on his side, almost flat against the glass panel and shuts his eyes, ignoring the hardness and coldness of the ground. He would need his energy for tomorrow, and he wasn't planning on spending multiple nights here anyways.
Besides, Katara was probably sleeping in much harsher conditions he could never be able to compare to.
I lean back against the wall after eating the minimal breakfast, exhausted from just holding the bowl in my hand. I did the calculations in my head until I come to the conclusion that tomorrow would be my eighteenth birthday. Which means I would most likely live until I was eighteen, was that an accomplishment?
The girl silently finishes her meal and sets the bowl down and watches the door expectantly. I wonder if there are any more surprises that she's yet to tell me. Like on every fifth day, they decide to burn us alive, and then on every seventh day, they decide to starve us. I allow myself to laugh out loud even though it's not funny and even though I think I'm going insane.
Just because it feels nice to be able to listen to something other than my pent up screams that echo in my mind.
The door slides open, a loud hissing noise filling my ears and soldiers file into the room and all I can think of is that it's today. I'm going to be killed today. I guess I won't make it to eighteen. If I had any strength left inside of me, I would have made one last, feeble attempt to escape. To grab the necklace that sits vacant in the corner of the room and strangle one of the soldiers, but instead I allow the arms to snatch me up once more, pressing into the bruises that cover my body.
They're all carrying weapons and I have swords pointed at me once more from all directions. Surprisingly enough, I glance at the girl to see her being treated in exactly the same way. Would they kill her on the same day as my death? I highly doubt it. She stands up straight, but doesn't struggle against the soldiers like I would expect her to do- which means she must know fully well where we're being taken.
Maybe it's some new type of torture cell. I wouldn't be surprised.
I'm shoved forward and I can't even tell how many soldiers there are because my mind is still fogged and I can't seem to wipe it away fast enough. The sound of heavy boots fill my ears and my legs don't seem to be working, so they drag across the ground. I don't even register where we're being taken, because frankly, all I can see is darkness. The Olfate must be working wonders.
I'm shoved to the ground and then I hear something that can only mean the door behind us is being shut. My head aches as I glance up at the girl. She's pulling her clothes over her head, not even glancing down at me. She grabs the waist of her pants and I look away.
"Take a shower," She says when I hear the sound of water streaming down through a tap above her head, "It'll help. Besides, it's the only place we're not watched."
I feel weak right down to the atoms that make up my bones, but I force myself to pull off my clothes. One arm then the other, and then my head. I strip down to my wrappings, not having the audacity to take off everything in front of the girl. I stare down at the bruises, scars and scratches that line every inch of my body and swallow hard. I'm still bleeding in multiple places, but taking a shower sounds like a good idea.
I reach half-blindly for the tap and feel something cool and metal but my fingers don't have the strength to turn it. I try again and again, but my fingers keep slipping off the tap. Then, suddenly there's a cool stream of water that makes a gasp climb up my throat. The girl turns on the tap and doesn't say anything as she hands me a bar of soap. I scoff, like I'll even have the strength to use it. I'm smart enough to know she's not making peace with me, I wouldn't be surprised if it's only because she's tired of smelling my stench of blood and sweat.
The water beats down on my body and I sit on the ground because standing up makes me dizzy, and I gently focus on moving my fingers, reaching up my arms and trying to place pressure on it, but once again, my muscles feel as if they're collapsed. I take the bar of soap and can't work up a lather, but I still gently wipe the parts of my body I can reach. The room we're in is dimly lit, but I can make out the water turning slightly pink as I wash off the caked layers of blood that I can reach of my body.
It's not enough time when I hear a male voice yelling at us that we have a minute left. I doubt they'd hesitate in just dragging us naked across the ground and tossing us back in our cell if we don't finish in time. I don't shut off the water and don't bother trying because I know I won't be able to. I spend my minute desperately trying to tug on my clothes. They stick to my soaked body and the moment I finish pulling my arm through the hole in the shirt, I feel the arms again and I'm dragged out of the room only to be thrown like an animal back into the cell.
Today was her eighteenth birthday. She had told the young Fire Lord this once when she had accepted the challenge of climbing the wall. She had climbed it, she had conquered it before she turned eighteen- beat his record.
Beat him in so many more ways than one.
Conquered more than just the wall before her eighteenth birthday.
Done so much more than just accomplishments before her eighteenth birthday.
He leans back in his seat and shuts his eyes for a heavy moment and straightens up right away, pushing away every single thought of her as someone knocks on the door to his room, "Come in," He calls out.
Ambassador Ghor bows down lower than the Fire Lord knew was humanly possible and looks him in the eyes, "News from the General and army, your highness."
News of the Earth Kingdoms attacks.
He nods for him to continue.
Something soft is tossed onto Jet's face as his eyes snap open, only to be covered by grey fabric, "Wake up and get dressed. You have about three minutes."
He pulls the bunched up clothes on his face and glances up at June, who stands hovering above his face. He can see her more clearly in the beams of sunlight that shine through the room. And he's more aware of his surroundings, most of the males on his side are already gone and there's only him and a couple others left behind. He spots a large veranda like balcony beside the large room, another glass panel closing it off.
He glances back up at her and she gives him a look, "Five minutes," She repeats, "You can change in the backroom and then I'll get Zixin to assign you somewhere until General Chan needs you."
He gets up rather unsteadily and watches as she walks away, a few girls trail behind her and he realizes she must be important. He stares at the back of her neck and the small line poking out once more, but she adjusts her collar and then it's completely concealed.
Jet changes into the gray clothes, they hang loosely off his body and isn't like anything he's ever worn before, but it's comfortable to say the least. When he walks out, a boy that seems slightly younger than him stands in front of him.
"Zixin," He says, holding out his hand. Jet shakes it hesitantly. The boy smiles slightly, "June said you needed to be put into your place, so I guess you could help out in the broiler room, follow me, we're already late."
Jet follows him and looks around at his surroundings that seem so much more different in the brightness of the morning. They walk along the servant's hallway up on a slant and Zixin briefs him about what the broiler room is, "You probably don't know, but it controls the basic heating of everything in the palace- the water- the furnace. There're four of them in total, so you can guess why we need all the help we can get."
"Who did you say you used to work for again?"
Jet stares ahead, "General Chan."
He stops in front of a door and does a dramatic gesture that makes Jet resist the impulse to roll his eyes. This was not part of the plan.
"I present-" He swings the door open and a wave of heavy heating smacks him in the face, "The Broiler room."
Jet coughs heavily, "Now I see why they call it that."
Zixin grins and they both walk into the room.
Jet spends the rest of the day working in the room and by the time Zixin moves around the room to shut down all the switches to turn down the temperatures, his clothes are drenched in sweat and he wipes his forehead with the back of his arm. His entire day hadn't helped him at all to even getting a step closer to finding out Katara's whereabouts.
Zixin stops in his tracks, as if remembering something and he turns to look at Jet, "I actually have to go see my mother, can you find your way back on your own?"
He was pretty sure he could find his way back, but he didn't want to go to sleep knowing he accomplished nothing. He didn't come here to stay as a servant. He shrugs, "I'll come with you."
Zixin seems to want to protest but he just nods and turns around and walks through another set of hallways, "She's hasn't been feeling well for a few days- you know ever since the girl was captured." He explains quietly.
Jet forces his steps not to falter as he hears her mention, he feigns interest, "What?"
He turns to glance back at him, "The Water Nation girl- haven't you heard?"
He shakes his head.
Zixin sighs quietly, "She was an elite soldier here- one of our strongest soldiers- everyone knew about her. I'm not positive on what happened, but apparently she was caught water bending and something to do with a necklace."
The necklace that she had told him about. The necklace she had misplaced.
"We don't know when she's to be killed but the Fire Lord is on edge," He says, lowering his voice further, "After the Earth Kingdom assassin- I guess this was his breaking point. In fact, I heard that he sent an enormous army at the break of dawn today to take down the Earth Kingdom."
"He hasn't even set a date yet as to when he's going to kill her and take down her nation," His voice trembles slightly, "We spoke a few times…" He says inaudibly, "I never would have expected her to be a traitor."
Jet forces himself to keep his mouth sealed.
"She was really close to my mother and she's just really…shocked about everything."
Jet nods, wanting Zixin to press on further about her.
"Her name was Katara," He says, looking back at Jet just as he nods, "June and I deliver their meals everyday."
"I could help you-" Jet says, then bites down on his tongue.
Zixin doesn't seem affected, he just shrugs, "I'm sure June would love for you to take her spot someday," He nods his head towards the door as they near it, "I think mother's in her room right now, cleaning up. She was her personal maid."
The words make him freeze and he realizes suddenly how utterly imprudent he's being. He had met her personal maid. He had spoken with her. Her name was Mei. He swallows hard and Zixin looks back at him in confusion, "Something wrong?"
Jet shakes his head, "I- I just remembered I had to help June with something. I have to go," He doesn't wait for Zixin's response as he turns around, quickening his pace.
He walks back down the main halls and Jet half-expects to be recognized and nailed down by a couple of guards. But none of the guards even notice him as he walks past a long hallway. He realizes slowly- that Katara must have walked down all of these halls at one point. She must have been treated with such respect. So how could she have been tossed into a cell without even be questioned?
When he slips back into the servant's quarters, the first person he sees is June. Watching him all the way across the glass panelling. He's slightly taken back and he cautiously walks into the room. Some people are already sleeping, others are walking around or sitting in groups, socializing. June begins walking over to him.
"Where's Zixin?" She demands right when he comes within earshot.
Jet shrugs, "He went to speak with his mother."
"And why didn't you go with him?"
"I was tired."
She rolls her eyes and then scoffs for what seems like the hundredth time at him. He takes a step closer to her and he looks to the side where the veranda is. He takes a deep breath and looks her directly in the eyes, "Can I talk to you about something?"
She seems conflicted but she slowly nods and follows him out towards the veranda. Cool air blows past the railing and he watches in confusion as June begins lowering herself to the ground. She sits down and then pushes her feet out under the railing, so her legs dangle from the balcony. He thinks for a moment before he copies her and sits down next to her.
She looks at him, "What is it?" She asks.
He looks down at the space between his feet and the ground. A good twenty feet at the least. He shifts to look at her, "How old are you?" He asks her.
She huffs, "I doubt you came out here to ask about me."
"Why would you think that?"
She begins to get up, "You're wasting my time."
Jet unconsciously grabs her arm and she glares down at him but slowly sits back down. She sighs, "What do you really want?"
He wonders if she'll be suspicious. But he can't hold back his questions any longer, "Zixin was telling me about this girl- I think her name was Katara or something- who was she?"
She raises both eyebrows, "Why do you want to know?"
He shrugs, "If I'm staying here, I want to at least know what's going on."
She watches him for a long moment before nodding, "Zixin must have told you she was an assassin sent by the Water Nation?"
He nods. It was funny in a sick way that everyone blamed the actual nation- it was exactly what Commander Jane wanted.
She continues, "We take turns delivering meals down to their cell."
"Their?"
June nods but doesn't press any further, "What do you want to know?"
He looks down at the ground twenty feet below him and thinks of how to word the question, "Nothing. I just wanted to know what I was in for, Zixin said I could help you guys deliver meals."
She glances up, "Really?" She breathes a long sigh, "That would be such a relief. I dread delivering their meals every single day."
He nods, ignoring the excitement that floods through him, "Are they dangerous?"
She shakes her head, "I wouldn't know. I've never seen either of them."
The most deadly Fire Nation prisoners were held in steel rooms instead of cells- they were watched every moment of their lives, except of course when they were forced to shower. He holds his breath, wondering if his lips are working far too fast, but he doesn't hold back the words that are tumbling out of his mouth, "Tomorrow?"
She looks up at him with a questioning glance.
"I could deliver breakfast to them tomorrow if you want?"
She smiles faster than he expected and nods swiftly. She nudges him slightly, "Maybe you can be of some use to me after all."
My eyes waft open from the creaking sound of the small hatch under the door opening. Breakfast- or at least that's what I think it is. It could just as easily be dinner- I wouldn't know either way. The shower must have helped with my sore muscles somewhat because the sharp pain had waned to a dull throb across my entire body.
I sneak a glance at the girl. She's watching the food, but not as if she's hungry, just a slow calculated glance that happens to be in the direction of the food. She never seems to be hungry- or tired- or angry- or in pain. It irritates me how composed she always seems. Although, the food isn't something that anyone would ever look forward to eating, I'm pretty sure it's the only thing keeping me alive.
I watch the hands from under the hatch as they fidget with the trays and I narrow my eyes slightly and pull myself slightly closer to the door, holding my breath, even though I'm doing nothing wrong. I carefully outstretch my fingers, testing out their strength as I reach for the first tray shoved under the hatch.
The girl doesn't shift, just slips her gaze to follow me as I press my back to the cell. It never occurred to me why we were never chained down, because technically, we could simply kill each other, and maybe we weren't far from that. But then again, that just added to this being a torture chamber.
I slowly stare down at the thick, liquid substance in the bowl and realize they've never bothered to give us spoons, but surprisingly, beside my bowl is a plastic spoon- obviously using real metal would be far too dangerous. But plastic could still definitely work as a weapon- anything could if you really put your mind to it. I try to imagine what guard felt pity on us and thought a spoon would fix it all.
I spoon out the substance and drain the small amount in a few minutes and then turn to the water, placed in the exact same bowl as the meal, the same size and the same lacking of the substance. It's as if right when your mouth longs for more- it's all gone. I finish my last sip of water and feel something stick to the tips of my lips.
I don't dare lower the bowl.
I slowly purse my lips, it's a soaked piece of paper stuck flat against my lips as I suck in the last drop of water. I feel my heart pound heavily and I push the paper down to the bottom of the bowl with my tongue and then slowly set the bowl down, placing it behind me as casually as possible. It could just be a bowl of water- I realize this- but I hope- I hope so badly it wasn't placed there by mistake.
There's a feeling growing in my chest that I haven't felt for days and I when I dare to glance up at the girl, she's not even looking in my direction but I don't dare take the risk. I don't dare allow my gaze to slip down to the bowl and I don't dare make a sound as I lean back, closing my eyelids, but leaving them half open at the same time, watching the girl.
She seems to doze off at some point, of maybe I'm mistaken, she's lying on her mattress, her back facing me. I hold my breath realizing that I'm hoping for something that's not possible but I allow my arms to move themselves and before I know it, I'm staring down at the bottom of the cup. It's still there, as if I somehow expected it to disappear just like the rest of my hopes have in the past few days.
I pray that it's turned face down because it's blank from the side that faces me. I make no noise as I plunge my fingers into the deep bowl and turn the paper over- my fingers trembling lightly as I faintly make out something. It's written it scratchy writing- and smudged so badly I can't bear to wonder if something was ever written there.
I feel desperation claw through my skin as I pull it out of the bowl and press it flat against the ground, its sticks instantly, I carefully spread it out- my fingers shaking harder and harder as I struggle to keep the paper unwrinkled and untorn. I squint through the darkness, trying to find a spot where I gain some sort of light and I squint harder, feeling frustration and anger boil up inside of me.
I can make out something through my bleary vision and the utter darkness that surrounds it, but I'm not even sure if what I'm reading is right. There's two lines stacked on top of one another. One looks like a number, I'm not sure if it's a three or a five or an eight. The bottom one- I squint and bring my face closer- a bunch of letters.
I breathe a short, irritated breath. If someone was trying to help me- didn't they have a better idea than putting a note with writing that could be washed off in my water bowl?
The world 'help' sounds weird- even in my mind. Who would want to help me?
I make out the first letter, and 'S' or a 'B'. And I cannot in any point of my squinting make out the second letter. It doesn't even look like a letter. I end up making out clearly only three more letters, there's an 'O' or a 'D', a 'W' and an 'E'.
I rack my mind, trying to jumble the letters and words together. The girl stirs and my heart jumps into my throat but I stay still, as she doesn't face me. I pull my knees up and place the small note in my lap so she won't be able to see- even if she turns.
S-something-O-something-W-E. And the number three, I guess blindly. Hoping it's not a five or eight and hoping I at least made out the letters right. What could it possibly mean? It bothers me to a point where I clench the paper in my fingers- contemplating just ripping it apart before my mind slips.
And who would even send this? Was there someone I knew who would deliver me food and knew me well enough and believed me and wanted to rescue me? My mind comes to the conclusion of Mei, because if not her, who else? I know I'm thinking under the utter delusion that someone is- as a matter of fact- trying to help me, but I don't push away the thought, clinging on to what must be the only optimism I have left within me.
But it couldn't possibly be Mei. I could clearly see the anger and disappointment in her eyes for her very own son when he had disrespected the General. And here I was, an assassin to the Fire lord she respected so very greatly. Why would she want to help me? But who else could it possibly be? Who else would take such a large and lengthy risk on my behalf?
I think about the letters over and over again. If someone was trying to help me, what would they be trying to tell me? Despite the awful note-writing idea, what were they really trying to say to me? I groan- a bit too loudly considering how credulous I'm trying to be- but I can't help it.
Would the person bother sending another note or would they be stupid enough to think I would be able to read smudged out writing drenched in water that could have been mine to drink?
S-something-O-something-W-E. And the number three. I repeat the information in my mind over and over again. I ram the paper into my shirt when the girl finally gets up- seeming to never have fallen asleep. Instead- she pulls her mattress aside and I watch as she draws another mark. I tighten my jaw. Has it already been another day? Was I given breakfast or dinner?
Her fingers move smoothly as she draws a straight line. I've never paid attention to her marks, and how carefully she writes them down, and how she circles some and underlines some and how she stares so unforgivingly at others. But today- I watch her every motion. Even as she seems to count in the back of her mind and draw out four more lines. She underlines the fifth line she draws.
My mind churns.
She practically glances up at me, a half smile on her face. She doesn't pull her mattress back over the marks, she leans against the wall and watches me.
I wish I knew what she was thinking- what went on in her brain- but at the same time, I never wanted to ever get to know her that personally.
I stare down the underlined line and pull up the courage to speak, "What are the circles for? And the underlines?"
Her eyes flash, as if she was just waiting for me to speak those words, "The circles are every day that the Olfate is used on us," She touches one of the circles with the tip of her bare foot and I stare down at the hundreds of scars I can make out that seem to line every inch of skin she shows on her feet, not one spot left clear, "The underlines are every day we shower," There's a gleam in her eyes and she doesn't say anything more.
"Our next shower is in five days."
She says nothing more as she sits back down, turning her back to me and stares at the wall as I've been doing for every single day I've sat down in this torture chamber. I don't know why but the walls are more interesting to stare at then the ceilings, and the ceilings are more interesting to stare at then the floor.
"They watch us, you know?" She asks quietly, not shifting in the slightest as she speaks. If she wasn't the only other one in the cell capable of speaking, I would never expected her to be the one who spoke, "Every single day, they're watching us now and they watch us while we eat- while we sleep-"
I swallow hard. She's already told me this.
"Soldiers and Guards- there's hundreds of them, layers and layers thick to get through, only for us," If she was facing me, I know she would be smiling that smile that always made me debate whether she was clinically insane. As if she found the idea amusing in a sickening, lamented way, "Aren't you flattered?"
And then it clicks. The gears in my mind shift and snap in place and churn faster than I knew was physically conceivable. I'm moving on my unsteady body, practically scrambling for the bowl, not caring for her eyes to be watching me any longer. We were watched everywhere- but the showers. We were listened to everywhere- but the showers. Our next shower would be in five days.
My heart is pounding so fast- so heavily- so roughly- I debate sitting down before I topple over, but I don't dare move any longer as my fingers clasp onto the slip of paper, every emotion I've felt for the past few days climbing up to my throat like an animal escaping from its pent up cage.
S-something-O-something-W-E. And the number three- was a five- not a three.
S-H-O-W-E-R. Shower in five days.
I collapse as the adrenaline is suddenly too much for my body to be able to hold up, but I lay my head against the cool ground and feel every muscle in my body tighten with a new forte. Because someone's here- someone's here to get me out and they will get me out. They will save me from this- this hellhole.
I'll be saved. I'll live. I'll be saved. I'll live.
I'll survive this. I'll hold on.
Happy Birthday to me indeed.
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Who do you think sent the note? How do you think Katara will escape?
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