i awake in the night to hear the engines [ audrey ] Aug 30, 2019 17:53:49 GMT -5
Post by slate • d9f • zoë on Aug 30, 2019 17:53:49 GMT -5
At some point she stopped crying, perhaps to sleep - only to wake up the next morning and cry again. Rooms without windows and the mouth of a gun at her back, something below her feet had told her she was on a train. There was a station at Seven, that made sense - but how she had come to be on the locomotive had vanished from her memory.
After the screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming it'd gone black for a while, waking up with a sore muscle in her arm and no memories. The chug chug chug chug below her and rattling of the walls indicated they were moving - but where?
Suppose it didn't matter. To jail, probably. Or worse. Audrey thought she might be dead but the thudding of her heart in her chest every time a Keeper with a gun walked past her told her she was alive.
And that her Dad was-
No more tears. Not as she sat in the dark and waited. It smelt awful, wherever she was - cold tile below her freezing feet, they'd given her socks at least. It was the only thing they'd given her, save for paranoia and harsh glares. Yesterday she'd dared ask where she was and they only tightened her restraints - her nose twitched at the memory, wincing.
Perhaps she was the one who smelled awful. A shower would seem nice about now, it'd been a while since she'd had one. Days, possibly, it was hard to tell - it felt like she was sleeping, stuck a sick fever dream. Water gurgled through pipes behind the walls and she laid down on the hard surface of the floor, sounds of the train long gone. Her hands were still bound, her wrists still stinging, and if she squirmed toward the sole light flickering in the room and craned her neck she could see red blotches staining the cuffs of her striped pyjama shirt.
The sight of them only made her heart ache, desperate for her bed. Her pillows. Her bedroom, all but blown to bits by now. How fitting to keep waking up and falling asleep in this nightmare, in pyjamas and a pair of crisp white socks. How horrifying. How silly.
She shed a final tear for the night, day, who even knew what time it was - and as she searched gunshot holes in her memory for answers she simply fell asleep.