There's always room for another

Chapter 7: 1.6 - the departure

Yuna decided she didn't like the city. What little of it she had seen from Lala's window, at least. All the rooms were small, for one. It was beginning to drive Yuna crazy. There were only so many times she could pace the apartment; she probably could walk it blind at this point.

Lala sometimes talked about the countryside, where she was born. Yuna liked the sound of it - land that stretched as far as the eye could see, bigger houses where you could own a dog or two. Yuna had volunteered the idea that maybe the reason why no one was looking for her here was because she wasn't born here. Lala had given her a long, considering look then.

Yuna passed the time with Lala's books, trying to figure out what was wrong with her, trying to make sense of the world outside the four walls, trying to alleviate boredom. Her favorite was the Greek myth of Orpheus, the man who went to the Underworld to try and bring his love back to life. The ending was tragic, but Yuna supposed that she could relate to the myth slightly. It had nothing whatsoever to do with her wish that someone was searching for her.

That was what she told herself, at least.

Lala also had an extensive pop music collection. Yuna had taken to listening to some of them, drowning her thoughts in music with the volume turned up so loud her ears rang for a while after. It helped keep the stronger emotions of helplessness at bay.

And so the days passed, until Yuna lost count. She was still trying to get her body back under control - some days her muscles ached for reasons she couldn't fathom. Bone deep and excruciating, Lala had frowned when Yuna had brought it up to her.

"Your muscles are atrophying from the lack of use. You must've done a lot of exercise when you... before." Yuna bit her lips in frustration. "Maybe we can get you into some minor physical therapy. Small things to keep the muscles warm at least."

So every morning and afternoon Yuna made herself go through a series of basic movements - stretches and cardio that also helped take her mind off things.

But always - always - she wished for something to happen. To move her story forward. If this was to be the rest of her life?

She didn't think she could bear it.

- - - - -

"Is this really necessary?" Yuna fingered her long blonde hair worriedly. She liked it this way. Behind her, Lala sighed in frustration.

"Yes, Yuna. I've been meaning to do it before - it's hard for me to check on your wound otherwise. And cutting it short won't be that big of a change - you look good with short hair."

"Really?"

"Yeah, trust me." Lala brought the scissors closer to her scalp. "You have the features for it."

"I don't know." Yuna hesitated still because she didn't have a lot of her old life left. "What if it makes it harder for people to find me?"

"Have you ever considered that maybe you've had short hair all along and no one could find you because your hair's grown out?" They were running with Yuna's theory that she was a runaway, because why not? "This way, we would be doing you a favour."

"But do a lot of people have blonde hair?" Yuna eyed the bottle of hair dye on the sink counter with suspicion. "Your hair is black. A lot of people on the street have black hair."

"People our age dye it all the time." Lala snapped the scissors in warning. "Trust me, Yuna."

Yuna kept quiet as she took the tool to her hair, keeping her gaze resolutely on the tap. She could feel her hair falling around her, could see it fall onto the counter, the sink. Yuna tried to swallow the roiling feelings in her gut.