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Cath's POV

"I'm not like you." I manage to say with stronger conviction that what I feel.

"On the contrary," Harper murmurs, pressing her entire weight against me until I am immobilised against the metal bedpost. "You and I are exactly the same. We both use people to get what we want. I'm just better at it than you are."

"No!" I growl, attempting to push her off. I can admit to being a lot of things, but I am nothing like her.

"You're just using that pretty little thing to get to me." She continues, flicking her tongue against the shell of my ear.

"No!" I repeat, more forcefully.

My feeble attempts to fight against her ridiculous strength amuse her greatly and she throws her head back in laughter, revealing a mouth full of stained and cracked teeth.

"You still haven't learnt, have you Goldi?" She snarls, grabbing my pyjama bottoms and wrenching them down.

I try to call out but a firm hand is placed over my mouth.

"Don't you dare." She mutters, launching into her attack. Tears of pain spring to my eyes but I daren't scream. I had almost forgotten how much it hurts when she iss trying to make a point.

I feel her teeth scratch my neck and clamp down on the urge to throw up. I can practically feel the bruises appearing all over my skin as she determines to make me suffer.

All I can do is close my eyes and hope that she will leave as soon as she is done.

"Come on beautiful." She hisses. "You know what I want."

I do, and it sickens me to even consider obliging but Harper isn't exactly one to take no for an answer.

With an unexpected surge of anger-fuelled confidence, I flick my eyes to hers.

"You can do what you want to me, but you still can't have Sara." I point out, shocking even myself with the force of the words.

She recoils, either surprised at my sudden resilience or wounded by the truth in my statement – possibly both.

However, rage quickly replaces whatever almost-human emotion she had briefly felt and with complete lack of compassion she increases the force she is using on me. I emit a sharp cry, biting my lower lip against the pain. It feels like I am being ripped in two; I would give anything for this to end but I am not going to give her to satisfaction of winning this round. I close my eyes, dragging up the first good memory I can think of and holding onto it with all my mental strength.

Without warning, I am released and thrown roughly to the ground. My head bounces off the edge of the bed and I feel my wrist twist as it breaks my fall.

"I've missed you Goldi." She chuckles, standing over me menacingly as I curl into a tight ball. "Let's do this again sometime."

I scrunch my eyes tighter, barely even breathing until I am sure she has left. When I finally dare to crack my eyes open, they fall instantly onto Sara's notebook, which had fallen under the bed in the struggle.

It is open at the last page she had been working on, and staring back at me is a perfectly sketched rose, crying tears of blood.

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Sara's POV

I feel my stomach lurch as I approach my cell, having abandoned the idea of breakfast as soon as last night's memory flooded back to my mind.

I hear her pained whimpers from down the hallway, but I don't actually place them until I am directly outside the cell, watching with wide horror-struck eyes as Harper stands up, leaving Catherine to curl up pitifully in a ball.

I dart around the corner, pressing my back against the wall out of sight. My chest rises and falls with laboured breaths while I wait for the older woman to leave. As she saunters downstairs with a confident sway of her hips, I creep back around and tiptoe into the room. Cath remains curled up, crying softly to herself.

Thinking back to my first night here and how she had taken care of me afterwards, I want desperately to repay the favour but I am too scared to approach her. After all, we have only known each other for three days, and after being in here for so long she may have her own way of dealing with this.

After a long internal argument with myself, I elect to leave her alone to gather herself together in her own time. If she wants to talk later, I tell myself, I will be here to listen.

It's the least I can do.

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Cath's POV

I am glad that Sara didn't see that.

I don't know where she is, but I pray she will stay there for just a little longer as I pick myself up on trembling legs and perch on the edge of the bed, wiping at my eyes.

I wince as I swipe the bruise forming on my cheek where Harper slapped me. I can't see myself but I'm sure I look like hell right now.

There's no way Sara won't notice my injuries, but hopefully she'll be kind enough to not ask.

Wiping my tears away again, I catch sight of the notebook. Despite the pain it causes, I stoop down to pick it up. The drawing is brilliant, if somewhat dark. But then, in here, I wouldn't exactly expect rainbows and sunshine.

I trace the picture gently with my fingertip. It is in ink. That makes it even more impressive; if I tried to draw something like this it would take at least four attempts to get the flower alone right.

"Hey."

The soft voice startles me so much that I drop the book again.

She doesn't seem fazed by my snooping, however, as she scrutinises my face carefully from the doorway.

I hurriedly wipe at my eyes, standing up shakily.

"Hey, I was just about to get dressed." I lie, turning my back and pretending to search for something in the hope that she will get the hint and leave it be.

I can feel her eyes burning into my skin for a moment longer before she seems to accept that I don't want to talk and takes up a seat on her bed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her pick up the notebook and stare at the image she's drawn for a while. It is almost like she is trying to place it, as if she doesn't recognise it herself.

"That's pretty dark." I comment, sending her a brief glance before quickly averting my gaze again.

"Yeah, well." She shrugs simply, putting it to one side. "This place is pretty dark, too."

I pause in my actions, sending her a sly glance. She is watching me curiously, obviously dying to ask me about my bruises. For a brief second I almost think I see pity in her eyes before she drops them into her lap.

I tug my clean clothes on and brush my hair away from my face, attempting to look somewhat decent again before I turn around to face her properly.

"I'd better get down there before they take all the breakfast off." I say, striding out as if I haven't just been cruelly assaulted.

The darkest thing about this place is that I can get away with this. No one will ask about it. No one will stare.

In here, no one cares.

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Sara's POV

Okay, so evidently she doesn't want to talk about it.

I don't blame her. I wasn't exactly in a rush to talk afterwards, either.

She knows that I know. It's not exactly like she can hide the marks marring her pretty features.

The defensive, angry part of me wants to hunt Harper down and smash her head into these cold stone walls, but the rational part of my brain tells me that this would be a really bad idea, not least because her head alone probably weighs more than all of me.

The worst thing is feeling so helpless. At least Catherine could do something to protect me, as reprehensible as it was. Right now, as much as I want to help her, I'm not sure how. And if she isn't willing to talk to me about it, I can't even address the issue with her.

I almost consider bringing it up but I know in her situation – one which I'm sad to say I have some experience in – I wouldn't want someone calling me on it.

I watch her leave with a heavy heart. I'm sure that food is the last thing on her mind right now, but she obviously needs some time to be alone and the least I can do I oblige.

In the meantime, maybe I can think of some way to make myself useful in this hellhole.

I guess she was wrong about me.

I do know how this place works, after all.