This one is short, I'm sorry. Thank you to the people that posted reviews or followed and liked the story!
The room is dark, huddled forms curled under their thin blankets. Cara goes to the small cubby she keeps her clothing in, and sees that they haven't taken her old, gray clothes. She lifts her mattress slightly, but as she goes to shove her clothes beneath the springs, she sees a small sheet of paper, lodged in a corner. She pulls it out, and stands in the glow of a red safety light.
Cara, I'm sorry. But I had to do it. I'm not going to spend an indefinite amount of time trapped in a divided state. I know it hurt you. But you need to run. Outside of here, people live to almost one-hundred, they have jobs, and get married. They get to do what they want with their lives, and we are being denied that right. Get out of here. Live your life.
She smiles sadly, and hides both the notes with her old gray clothes. Leaving is the last thing she can do. Every student at the Institute knows that the world outside is awful, and they'll die if they ever have to make it on their own.
A few hours later she hears voices outside her door.
"She won't be in there, she's not an idiot. She'll be hiding somewhere. I'd be doing that to, if I knew my Unwind date was moved up to tomorrow."
"That infernal procedure should be banned on the Day Of Our Lord. It's sacrilege."
"I sure don't hear you saying a thing about it to the headmistress."
The voices move away, and Cara realizes that her nails have been digging into her palms, Her Unwind date, tomorrow? The most an Unwind has ever been moved up is a week, and that was in the case of a runaway, the most severe crime ever committed at the Institute. The red light is becoming fainter, the light of the rising sun beginning to seep through the windows.
She squints at the thin scrawl across the wall above her, messages that had accumulated over the years. Mainly from Mila, but a few had been done by Alice. She'd been unwound over six months ago. A hasty scribble catches her eye, a new one it the darkest corner, by her head. Cara-Mia. Goodbye. She runs her finger over it, and wonders how Mila had managed to misspell her name, when she'd had it for five years. The wall is flaking slightly, and she pulls the sliver of paint off. It breaks away perfectly, the words now in the palm of her hand.
The light gets stronger, and she strips the sheets from her bed, and ties her clothing in a bundle. The white will be too bright, and the gray cloth is familiar, reminding her of the hours she had spent with Mila. The hallway is silent, and she takes the narrow staircases, the ones so full of cobwebs that no one in their right mind would use them. By the time she gets to the lower level, she's shivering from the cold. No one in their right mind would go willingly to the bottom floor either, with its low ceilings and wind-tunnel effect, but it's the only way out unless you wanted two broken legs and frostbite. Or a broken neck.
The tunnel winds deeper and deeper, and escape route for the original keepers of the castle, but now only a dork, endless void. Cara hears a sound and ducks, feeling air whoosh against the back of her neck. Bats. Lovely. She pins her hair up a little bit tighter, and keeps going, heading towards the sound of rushing water. There's stories of girls escaping by leaping off into the abyss, and trying to swim downriver. The stories are old, so old that they were silly. But still….
"Oh." Sunlight floods the tunnel as it opens out onto the edge of a rushing stream. Cara kneels, and gulps the water, gasping at the icy chill. She can see a rock wall above her, but she's out.
The moment she enters the forest, the sky begins to cloud over. It's less than a mile to the nearest road, but it's beginning to rain, the drops stinging her face. The pack is light, but becomes heavier, the water soaking into the cloth. The temperature drops to, becoming almost unbearable. The road….it should be here by now. She stumbles over a log, but keeps going until she finally collapses, vomiting the water from the stream onto some ferns. Her arms and legs are burning.
Why….woods…..school….where's Mia…Mia died…..Mia lived…You died…you're dead….no, you can think…not dead…..hurts…