The night crept on as peacefully as it always did, that is, hardly at all. Rarely was there ever a moment, as of late, to just breathe, to live rather than survive. And sadly, this day was no different, not when disasters were known to come in threes, taking hold like a domino effect. Since everything, it felt like the count was always stuck at two, ticking over, every chance it got. Tick, three. Tick, three. Tick, three. Tick...
The risk of something lurking in the corners where it was darkest felt heavier now more than ever. Something was to come, and on this night, in particular, that something was significantly more tragic than anyone could have expected.
It happened while Elizabeth dreamed, snuggled into her partner's side, sleeping comfortably and deeply. The clock ticked over once more, the rest of the prison community completely, and unfortunately, unaware of what was going on around them. That there was something on the border of their happiness, waiting for the best moment to rear its ugly head.
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The next morning, the air felt different, though, the day started off just like every other. People got up and began their daily duties: tending to the farm and the animals, getting dressed, eating- normal activities. However, the hour took a turn, and so did the resident.
But before that nightmare came to light, I had checked over my duties, noting there was nothing particularly special or urgent on my 'to do' list for the time being. This knowledge led to me lazing about, reading a couple of chapters of a random book that's only appeal was the fact it wasn't meant for a toddler. I did that until the sun was high in the sky and my eyes begged me to take a break.
It was then when I thought it to be an appropriate moment to go and check on Patrick, still somewhat concerned for his health. I would have been lying if I said the boy hadn't been on my mind all morning, ever since he basically collapsed on his bed out of exhaustion. To my knowledge, he could very well have just been suffering from a cold, albeit a bad one. Even so, that didn't change the fact he was obviously reacting to the symptoms a lot worse than anyone normally would. In the end, my concern won out and I thought to bring him some food and water -maybe get him to put something in his system- anything to help him recover even slightly faster.
The problem was, when I walked up to his cell, he wasn't there. I was confused at first but I tried to brush it off, nonetheless.
Maybe he is feeling better.
I attempted to reassure myself to no avail.
"Have you seen Patrick?" I asked a couple of people passing by, hoping to ease my nerves a little. Sadly, it didn't quite work; I was still worried about him. Surely he wasn't well enough to be up and walking around already, right? Except, everyone I stopped hadn't seen him either, shrugging my question off in favour of continuing on with their plans. With not many options presented to me, I eventually scratched my head in defeat, somewhat giving up.
The prison community had gotten considerably larger since the previous year which made asking every person I saw if they had seen the boy nothing less than time consuming. In the end, I decided it might be for the best if I made myself busy and just kept an eye out for the teen while going about my day. I mean, the weather was so nice, for all I knew, maybe he was sitting under the sun, getting some fresh air somewhere.
Who knows.
Looking around, I found myself alone with only three cells between me and the doorway as the last person disappeared from view. I was left standing there, alone. Sighing, I knew there was little to no use in me lingering the halls any longer than I had, leading me to follow suit of the others.
YOU ARE READING
A War On Her World | TWD: D. Dixon
Roman d'amourIn a perfect world, Elizabeth Hughes is sitting in a small cafe in Atlanta city on stormy evenings. The cafe always gave off a warm and inviting glow whenever she stopped in. She is being served by a kind waiter who is often caught, by his co-worker...