This corrupt place has been my home for three months now.
I'm warmly received here, and I suppose I can't complain about that. Rebecca has to be the most compassionate person I've ever met. …Of course, I've pushed everyone else away.
When I first woke up here, I must admit, I was instantly jealous of her chestnut hair, shining despite its tangled appearance, and the spattering of freckles across her face. She had dimples when she smiled—which she did often.
I couldn't hate her, though. The underlying dejection that seemed to scream from her gorgeous green eyes made any possibility of resentment tuck its tail between its legs and run.
I dare say it's worse now—that sadness that permeates her expression at all times, in laughter or tears—after it happened. I don't know the details, but whatever happened, Rebecca was changed for it; she's no longer smiling Rebecca, optimistic Rebecca, or opinionated Rebecca. She sits on her cot and stares out the only window in the room watching the rain, her legs tucked against her chest. The measly beam allowed to pass through the opening bathes her face in a light that her morose, contemplative countenance hides.
She doesn't say much, anymore.
The buzzing silence drives my senses crazy, running rampant on high alert. My fingers drum senselessly on the meager table situated at the front of the room; my eyes trace the knots and grain of the wooden surface, again and again and again. The leak in the ceiling drips incessantly, every third second, into a metal pot we've long ago stationed in the corner. Muffled through the stone wall I cannot quite make out a desolate warbling from the captive next door; thunder booms, and lightning flashes through the small square above, casting eerie shadows across the walls and floor. I jump.
Rebecca glances up at me, pursing her lips. "Lara?"
"It's nothing," I murmur, and leap out of my chair to pace our quarters, from the table to the wall, and back to the table, then about-face and start again… "I can't stand being here anymore."
As I pass her cot again, I feel her eyes on me. She remains silent, regarding me with what I know is a sad resignation.
"I've been thinking… a lot, actually. When they took me, I was already in kind of a bad situation, you know?" I twiddle my thumbs as I ramble on, my words growing in speed. "I didn't care, about anything; I wasn't doing anything with my life… Then I woke up here, and I got to know you." I shot a look her way from the table, quickly turning away again at the force of her gaze. "I mean, what they make us do here… it's terrible! But you and I—we were changing things, starting a resistance. Suddenly my life had meaning!" I almost shout that last bit. Rebecca must think me so pathetic. I'm quiet, for a moment, standing still.
Gathering my resolve, I sit on the edge of her cot, folding my hands in my lap. "Remember Sam?" I catch Rebecca's nod out of the corner of my eye. "They were going to kill him. We saved his life, Rebecca! I never did anything brave like that before they brought me here… Don't you see?"
"It was your idea," she injects meekly, but I shake my head, turning to face her full on for the first time in days.
"No: I only did it because of you. You gave me hope… something I haven't had in a long time." I bite my lip, not sure how to go on. Clenching my fists, I let it out in one long breath: "But you've changed! Whatever happened on that day in the warehouse, it's over. Why can't you see that?" Rebecca's eyes have gone round, a bit fearful. I can't look at that, what my words do to her, and I shut my eyes as shut as they'll go. "It doesn't matter! None of that does, any more! What matters now is getting out of here and saving everyone! And we can't do that if you're just going to sit in here all day moping and feeling sorry for yourself! So I'm sorry, but you need," I swallow, and continue in a whisper, "You need to get over it, Rebecca."
The water drips, our neighbor mutters, my heart pounds. Silence reigns for a long time.
Simultaneously, we speak: "I'm sorry," I start, but Rebecca's words silence me: "You're right."
"What?" I peek up at her, and I'm surprised to see she's come to stand before me.
"You're right, I said. Connor and I… we were so close, but he'll have died for nothing if I don't do anything about it!" She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and her lips pull into a hint of a smile. Rebecca grabs my hands, pulling me to my feet. "Come on!"
I trail after her like a lost puppy as she bangs against the door to our cell. "Wha—what are you doing?!"
She grins at me shakily, but I can see unsung determination engulfing her features. "I'm not settling anymore, that's what. Let's make some noise."
I laugh nervously as she taunts whoever's standing outside, and prepare myself for what's coming next. It may be brutal, but doing anything's better than nothing.