i'll do twenty five to life if it makes me a king | cole.
Oct 4, 2019 2:46:39 GMT -5
Post by ✨ on Oct 4, 2019 2:46:39 GMT -5
SLATE.Three days in and she's already bored, number 9 stamped on her clothes and they've already made a point of locking her bedroom doors at night. On the first eve she went walk-about, escorted back by a Keeper kicking and screaming. On the second night she tried the elevators and made it down three floors before the Keepers greeted her at the parting glass doors.
Tonight, she's decided, she'll try and eat so much that her body will shut down and she can finally get a good nights goddamn sleep. The thought of seeing exactly how far she can try her luck makes her lips split open, biting on her tongue to stop herself from laughing at the idea. All they can do is escort her back night after night, cat and mouse, hide and go seek. Morons, she thinks, slamming a knife into the torso of a dummy lazily. Morons, morons, morons, morons -
One kid catches her eye on her fifth unspoken word and a new idea sprouts. It's more of a memory than anything, flickering static on an old television screen, a second of history ingrained in her mind. Buried and waiting for just the right moment, when one might find herself a tribute too. Carelessly tossing the knife aside as if it were a worn shirt, Slate unlaces the too-tight shoes that had rubbed red at her ankles for hours and takes aim, pulls her arm back, and fires.
"HYAA!" she cries as the shoe leaves her palm and lands with a satisfying thwump against the back of the boy's head. The impact makes her shriek with joy and Slate's trademark cackle fills the room - now this was entertainment.
"Heard ya like shoes to the back of the head, Four!"
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