I (Cx3) wrote the chapter. A big thanks to BananaKisses for beta-reading! I am sorry for not updating sooner!
Cress opened up Firefox for probably the tenth time that day, waiting for the oh-so-special alert to pop up to say that Scarlet got her message. Was she able to get on the internet? Concern began to build up in her stomach. Mistress would be back. And soon. Not having the comfort of her friends there—even if it was through the internet—always made her introverted and depressed.
She leaned against her small headboard to her twin bed, which took up more than half the tiny closet of a room she was forced to stay in. Not to mention the smelly old and hard mattress beneath her. From what she overheard from Mistress, it was from the junkyard. It also belonged to not one, but many cats. The smell was nearly unbearable, which was why Cress hardly ever went there.
But tonight was different. Tonight, she was locked in. And panicking. The lock to her door had been on the outside as long as she could remember.
"What's this?" Sybil snarled, taking the poster hanging on the wall and yanking it off. "Why is this place such a wreck? You were supposed to keep it clean while I've been gone."
Cress stood awkwardly in the corner, head tilted down. As she was only four and a half feet tall, Sybil towered over her like a tree.
She sniffed. "I-I'm sorry. I just thought it looked nice."
"And do you realize how much of my printer ink this took? And did you clean at all?"
A tear ran down her cheek. Fear flooded her veins.
"I was gone for three days. That's three days you should've spent not wasting your time." She trailed off. "You know what happens when you don't do well, Crescent."
Cress flinched, still feeling the scars on her back as if they were inflicted yesterday. Ever since then she had not only been hurt, but locked up constantly.
"Scarlet..." she breathed under her breath. Her foot began to twitch—a sign of her claustrophobia kicking in. Her fingers tapped nervously on the keyboard. Faster and faster.
Maybe the computer was having a delay? Mistress was originally going to throw it out for it being so slow, but Cress had saved it and stashed it in her room for emergencies like this. She had been able to cleanse the computer of most of its viruses, making it much more efficient, but it lacked protection software and was constantly getting new viruses and issues.
At least she had the computer. Almost every day she had to stick it into the small opening under her bed so it couldn't be seen. Sometimes Cress suspected that Mistress knew, but as she had yet to do anything about it. It was probably better for the both of them.
Her eyes flicked to the screen. The changing headline had caught her eye more than enough.
CRIMINAL CARSWELL THORNE PUT BACK INTO PRISON
She clicked it as fast as she could. There was a bright picture of him. He was smiling broadly and winking at the camera, his sandy hair ruffled slightly. The photographer seemed to have turned up the contrast and saturation in the picture, accentuating his chiseled features and loose tan jacket.
She almost sighed. Her longtime crush on him did little to calm her nerves. When she told Cinder about it once, she had laughed and said sarcastically, "You guys are obviously soulmates."
The article said more about his amazing getaways from the police, and how he marked every house he went to with the initials CCT. Detectives eventually discovered his pattern when he stole. Or, "borrowed" as he said. It was always the houses that had no security, no pets, and missing residents.
Cress guessed he'd have to come up with a new tactic. When—no if—he escaped they'd be able to find him again—assuming he kept the same habits. Losing any silly hope a teenage girl could have, she backed out of the page and checked her messages again, where, at last, Scarlet had replied.
Scarlet rushed, speeding much past the low speed limit. It was hard living without internet. Impossible, even. Maybe for someone like her Grand-Mère, it would be extremely easy, but for someone like her who lived most of her life on the internet, it was hard.
Fortunately, the little cafe on campus provided a pleasant atmosphere, and she didn't mind spending her afternoons surrounded by the smell of baked goods.. She pulled out her laptop quicker than quickly, like a cheetah running after its prey. Her eye twitched slightly with impatience. The connection wasn't the worst, but it wasn't the greatest either—a little slower than she hoped for. Finally, her tab loaded and 's welcome page glowed on her screen.
"What are you doing, Scarlet?"
Narrowing her eyes, she looked around. She hated being interrupted during her writing spurts.
"Writing," she sighed.
"Writing what?"
She sank further into her seat. It was another question that made her skin crawl with irritation.
However, the only other person besides the few staff members clanking around in the kitchen was a tall, tough-looking man on his tablet reading some article or text column. While she was slouching in her small corner booth, that donned burgundy seats (to show 'school pride', she had been told), he was sitting on the end chair at the tall counter.
She pulled down her laptop screen and jumped. A perky blonde girl stood in front of her, waiting for an answer. Her brilliant smile faded somewhat. "Are you alright?"
Scarlet let out a breath. Oh. It was that girl...Emilie. From the train ride. "Good afternoon, Emilie," she managed to say. Emilie cocked her head and smiled again. The man at the counter looked up for a second at them, but then back down to his tablet.
"Hello, Scarlet! I'm so glad to have seen you again! Are you having a good day?"
Scarlet frowned a bit and shook her head. "It could be better, but yeah. Do you take orders away from the counter?"
Emilie's curls bounced around her face. "Of course!"
"May I please have a Caramel Cocoa? Extra whipped cream."
"Sure thing. It might take a moment, though...Gilles is having trouble with the milk."
Scarlet smiled. Be polite, be polite. "That's fine."
Emilie took a moment to gaze at Scarlet's hair before brushing back her own. With a smile, she walked away back to the kitchen. Scarlet shrugged it off and reopened her laptop. With a click, she opened up Hangouts, and her chatroom with Cress was in bold and a new message had appeared. It was strange. Normally Cress would say anything in the group chat with all of them included. It had to be serious.
Scarlet, it read, panicking again. Sorry to bother you. Hope stuff is okay.
She typed back quickly, What's Wrong?
The reply was instant. Sybil.
She didn't know what to say. Scarlet had known for quite a while that Sybil was abusive, but so much as to drive Cress to only messaging Scarlet? It was a rare thing indeed.
Are you okay? What's going on?
I'm locked up Scarlet. She locked me in my room. I'm scared...
Almost gasping aloud, she put a hand over her mouth. Locked up? She had to force herself not to reach for her phone. She knew Cress wouldn't want her to call the police, but now Sybil was into the realms of criminal offence. Instead, she tried to comfort her friend. Stay calm. Breathe in and out. Are you doing that?
Three bubbles said that Cress was typing. Yeah. Thanks for responding, Scarlet. I thought that something was wrong.
Chipper Emilie came out and set her drink down with a straw, all while saying, "Enjoy."
Everything's fine for now. Are you still breathing?
Cress sucked in a deep, deep breath, filling up her lungs to the brim. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.
I am. Thank you. I feel better.
It was mostly true. Her heart was still thundering from the claustrophobia and nerves, but the process still gave her a faint feeling of comfort.
Until the thundering car rolled into the rocky driveway.
Sybil's back! I'm sorry, Scarlet. I have to put away the computer.
It's completely fine. Hey...you know, you should really try and get ahold of—
Cress didn't have time to finish reading Scarlet's message. She quickly shoved the computer into its hiding spot, and whimpered as the front door clicked open.
