"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival." - C.S. Lewis

Fighting.

Violet never realized until that moment, sitting in her cell, staring at the sand-covered concrete floor ahead of her, that fighting had been integrated so completely into her life. It was something she had done for so long, in so many various forms, and now it might be the thing that killed her.

She thought back to the long days in her mother's muggy ballet studio when all of her friends would look at her with pity as her mom instructed, "Thank you, class. Everyone may leave except for Violet." Six days a week her mother would keep her in that ballet studio, forcing her to fight through bleeding toes, sore muscles, and resentment for an extra two hours a day. Her dear, sweet mother—so kind, yet so determined. Most people thought having a former prima ballerina as a mother and ballet teacher would be a blessing, but for most of Violet's life, it was a nightmare. Violet would be the best, her mother swore, and so she worked her daughter's mind and body to the point of exhaustion. There were some days that Violet would cry silently throughout the extra two hours, tears running down her cheeks and on to her tutu as she lifted her legs and extended her arms, her muscles quivering every moment. It didn't matter how long or how hard she trained—she wasn't the best. Her mother attributed it to how little rest her body was getting but assured her that, in time, it would all catch up and she would become a prima ballerina, too. Even at six, Violet knew that was a lie. It wasn't that she was physically incapable—it was that she didn't love ballet. She felt a sharp pang in her chest thinking about it. Maybe if she had tried harder, complained less...

Well...maybe she wouldn't have upset her mother so much that she took her eyes off the road that day to yell at her on the way back from practice. Maybe she'd still be alive.

Violet's lungs collapsed as she pushed out a hard sigh. She couldn't allow herself to get melancholic. She had to hold on to the anger burning inside of her. There was a good chance that it was the only thing that was going to get her out of there.

The girls had been waiting for a couple of hours. Although their captor had claimed they would fight at sunrise, Violet was sure it was much later than that...right? It had to be. Admittedly she had lost count of the minutes she had been in there, and the withdrawal made her feel weak and groggy, and being locked in a cell made time creep by...but there was no way that he had only been gone for less than an hour.

He had left their exterior cage walls up, but the girls were terrified to speak to one another. The bald girl sobbed softly from her cage, hugging her knees. A girl with fire engine red hair paced back and forth, the soft patter of her bare feet against the concrete creating a rhythm that lulled Violet's eyes closed.

Just as she felt some inner peace, a commotion started at the bottom of her throat. She felt vomiting rising in her esophagus like a hand punching its way out of her stomach and through her mouth. Thank god she had lay down next to the bedpan provided for her by her captor.

A few of the girls stared at her as she crawled on her hands and knees to the bowl of water sitting in the far right cell of her corner. She was sure they thought she was vomiting out of fear or anxiety. Good, she thought to herself, keeping her head down. That's exactly what I want you to think.

She tipped the water bowl to her lips and gulped. The sound of her throat squeezing the water down echoed through the room. As far as withdrawals were concerned, this was definitely much better than all the others before it. She had been able to control the vomiting for the most part and had yet to be confronted with the usually-promised explosive diarrhea. But how in the hell could she fight like this? Muscles trembling, sweat pouring, heart pounding? She'd have to come up with a plan, something that—

The sound of a finger snapping to her right caught her attention. Her head popped up and she once again found herself staring at a set of cold, gray eyes. She had never really gotten a good look at anyone until this moment. Her neighbor stood in her cage, lean muscle lining her frame. She had long black dreads and her almond shaped eyes sat atop of perfectly placed cheekbones. For a moment, Violet found herself taken aback by the breathtaking beauty of her neighbor—even after being held captive.

The girl sat down quickly and faced Violet, putting them at the same eye level. She delicately placed her hands in her lap and, using her left hand to cover her right, began to slowly and rhythmically change the shape of her hand. Violet tilted her head to the side, confused. What was she doing? She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head gently, communicating that she didn't understand. Her neighbor's face didn't even flinch as she began the pattern again. This time, though, she softly mouthed words.

"A...B...C...D..."

Sign language. Violet's eyes widened and she nodded quickly before following the girl's hand movements. They went through the series what felt like a dozen times before her neighbor finally stopped.

"I...A...M...J...O...H...A...N...N...A," the girl signed. Violet's mind, still slow and groggy from the withdrawal, took a little longer than anticipated to put all the letters together. She saw, for a brief moment, a flash of heartbreak and frustration in Johanna's eyes at the idea that Violet had not caught on. Johanna began to sign the sentence again when Violet interrupted her.

"I...A...M...V...I...O...L...E...T."

Johanna's mouth pulled at the corners. Violet lifted her hand higher to sign, but Johanna quickly shook her head. She eyed the corners of their cells before signing, "C...A...M...E...R...A."

Between the news of the fight and the onset of her withdrawal symptoms, Violet had forgotten all about the camera. She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw the red flashing light, indicating it was recording. Bringing her attention back to Johanna, she signed, "H...E...I...S...W...A...T...C...H...I...N...G."

Johanna nodded

"B...U...T...I...H...A...V—"

The sound of a metal door swinging open boomed throughout the room. The bald girl sobbed even louder and most of the prisoners sprung to their feet. Violet and Johanna remained exactly as they were, unflinching. Violet smirked. That was a good sign.

"Ladies, I apologize for the delay! I ran into a few...difficulties. But never fear! They have been resolved," their captor stood at the top of the stairs, his voice filling the room. "Now...who's ready to fight?"

A/N: Sorry about the delay. Thanks for all the follows/favorites/reviews. It is greatly appreciated. I'd love to know what you all think so far.