The Grean Household

43: Bloody Snow

She was having nightmares.

It was the phantom feeling of the men behind the door coming in and taking her. The feeling would make her kick, often waking up in the middle of the night. Days seemed slower, yet Willow kept her system of protection going. 

What she found most interesting was that the other girls seemed afraid of her and her new friend, Trish.

The two formed a system where Trish would get up and get the food. Oftentimes, they'd give her less than the last. When Trish finally noticed, she banged on the door, unafraid of their threats to beat her more. Willow would remain in the corner, watching as Trish kicked at the metal door, her muscles bulging as she raised her voice. Trish was what Willow would call a warrior: never backing down and always threatening to attack whilst she defended the things she cared about.

Trish held the rations in her hands, smoothly walking back to Willow in the corner. The entire reason why she pounded on the metal door in the first place was because she noticed how sickly Willow seemed. Willow's saved rations were starting to dwindle slowly, becoming an unreliable source of food. 

You look sick. Trish had said before she got up. 

I'm hungry. Willow muttered.

Starvation leads to sickness, Wills. Trish said flatly. Willow groaned, shuddering. 

She would wrap her body tighter together, hoping that she'd eventually warm up in this never ending winter. No matter how long she was in there, Trish seemed to know the exact date.

What's today? Willow would ask. 

October 31st, 2039. Trish replied once. Willow shivered, letting her head hang. 

You said we'd get out soon. Trish glanced at Willow before looking back at her spot on the wall. 

We will. It just takes patience.

Now, with Willow feeling slightly full, she slept in the corner. She was having dreams of the girls shouting as the men came in and touched them without taking them out of their cage. They'd yank them from their spots and take them behind the door. Some came out, most didn't.

Willow would always guess that they were being slaughtered due to their unattractive malnutrition. Their ribs were showing, their necks barely strong enough to hide their spine and hold up their heads. She would watch, often feeling Trish's protective shielding as girls paid to have themselves killed by others. Oftentimes, they'd use something metal, something sharp. Other times they'd use something blunt to crack their skull against the cement floor. Some times, they'd use their hands to strangle them.

The wind was howling, heavy precipitation hitting against the roof. Willow, no matter how hard she tried, could never get into a deep sleep. It was always light sleep, always with her being half aware of her surroundings.

Willow felt Trish leave her side. As if a strong shield was taken away from her, she slowly opened her eyes. Each time she awoke, she'd pray it was just a nightmare, and every time, she'd open her eyes to a dirty cement floor. How she survived this long was beyond her, but she knew it was going to be worth it one day. Willow couldn't bear the thought of giving up and leaving her mother and father to wonder what happened.

Sammy, was always her first thought. Sometimes, she'd forget his face, but she'd try to remember his voice- remember the feeling of annoyance as he poked at her, then she poked at him. 

Simple times she'd kill to get back to.

Discreetly, Willow tilted her head, managing to look at Trish's shadow as she sneakily walked across the room. Trish would do these nearly every week. Willow would sometimes catch her sneaking up to the beam, spectating as she climbed the beam up to a certain spot and would stay there. She'd never hear what was happening. This night was no different.

What's the date? Willow asked earlier that night. 

February 20th, 2040. Trish replied matter-of-factly, maintaining the softness in her tone that was always present when Willow and her spoke.

Willow heard the door open. A noise she trained her ears to hear so she'd wake up instantly, ready to defend herself. She snapped her gaze to the man coming in. Trish was unsuspecting, fiddling with something in her hand as she began to walk back to the spot she sat, right next to Willow.

When she was halfway across the room, the man attacked. He grabbed her from behind. He pawed for the thing in her hand. Trish handled his weight, managing to throw what she had down to the floor. There was a sound of plastic and metal scattering across the floor. The man grabbed her by the throat and shoved her down. Trish groaned as she landed on her back.

Willow noticed that she was slowly uncovering herself. Crawling slowly, Willow noticed an object slide across the floor from Trish's pocket. Sticking to the darkness, Willow quickly mustered her low energy into small bursts of crawls. Trish's growls and hisses echoed in the expanse of their cage. 

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!" She tried to punch the man off her. He was choking her, taking energy away with every squeeze.

Willow wrapped her fingers around the handle. The blade shined in the moonlight from the windows up above. He was groaning, trying to squeeze the life out of Trish. Willow couldn't recognize what she was doing. She couldn't decide where to attack him. Settling on a spot, Willow snuck up behind him.

There was a strange familiarity to the way her body moved. With a fluid motion, Willow slammed her fist down. The blade cut into his throat, blood already starting to trickle. She drove it further in, warmth coating her fingers. Willow twisted, hoping he'd fall.

Willow steered his dying body over to the right. He fell into the concrete shoulder first, blood beginning to pool. Trish coughed, rubbing her throat, slowly sitting up. Willow pulled the knife out of his throat, backing up, hands trembling.

Trish got up instantly, stumbling around before she managed to get to Willow. 

"Are you okay?" Willow nodded, humming shakily. She was slowly realizing that Trish had technologies on her, with some of her wires for communication sticking out from the scuffle.

The door swung open, revealing a person with an assault rifle. Trish stood up straight, blocking Willow from the person's view. 

"Hurry up. Clock's ticking." The person said. Trish nodded, taking the knife from Willow's hands. Willow was staring at her fingers, noticing how bloody they were. Dirt was seemingly carved into her pores, blood soaking into her skin and staining her flesh.

Willow wanted to ask who Trish was and how she managed to sneak into their cage with communications to the outside, but she couldn't find the words. They didn't speak. Trish quickly shoved a coat and pants onto her, guiding her to the front of the building. When they arrived, Willow stood there, staring at the door that would open up to the outside world. A world where she could be free.

Before she could thank Trish, she was gone. The facility was deathly quiet, like everybody inside had died and she was the only one left. Willow shakily opened the door. Cold air whipped past her, nipping at her reddened cheeks. 

Outside, with their lights on, were cop cars. Red and blue painted the building, blinding Willow. She couldn't hear anything, all she could do was look down at the dirty snow beneath her shoes. Next to her were bodies of men, unloaded guns in their hands, a bullet through their temples. Their blood soaked into the snow, creating a river of death underneath Willow's shoe.

When she looked back up, two men where rushing towards her. She felt threatened, but she felt safe. The one dropped to his knees, wrapping her arms around her. His warmth felt familiar, his face even more so. The cop looked up at his superior, his eyes wide, jaw clenched, though he was relieved to find his niece alive.

His strong arms picked up Willow, his usual calm and funny characteristics vanishing as he carried her away from the gates of hell and to the cars of serenity.