The Sky is Pretty From Freedom (KREW au)

Chapter Two: You Better Start Digging

I had spent all night planning. The idea was to hide my hole under the guise of a rug stand. The alleys near my home are very crowded and overwhelming, so it was less than likely someone would purchase a rug from my "stand." My deterrent? Overpriced rugs. $350 for a small bathroom carpet. $1250 for a living room carpet. While people strolled by, I could hide underneath my rug-hole. I'd already dug out maybe 2 feet of soil in the early hours of the morning, and used the excess to plant SOME vegetation, as that could maybe make me money.

The bell rang after I finished writing out the diagrams and equations of my planned escape. I made sure to plant my journal somewhere that the Centre Creatures wouldn't find it (I hid it in my hole). I instantly begin making my way to the factory, ready to keep my mouth shut about anything and everything. I injured my shin pretty badly last year, and now I have a scar there...unfortunately, this kind of thing happens all too often, and that's why I always have at least a cabinet full of bandages and gauze.

Today's injury was no different. While manufacturing a construction sign, hot metal burnt my elbow somehow. Oh, I also scratched my face and smudged some dirt into my fingernails. When I got home, I admittedly took a bit longer of a shower than I should've, given my escape plan dead ahead. I get changed into my oldest rags, some with meaning, and sit at my "rug shop." I get more than enough dirty looks, and by the time the streets begin to clear, I get to work. Seconds turn into minutes, minutes turn into hours, and hours turn into...

"Hey. Kid." 

I'm interrupted from my pit of hope by a voice that seems unfamiliar, one that caught me off guard. I flinch a bit, not expecting a "customer" and slowly turn around from my position on the ground." 
"U-uh...yes?" I ask, a bit scared that I've been caught, and awkward if it's someone looking to by a rug. I can feel my face burning up and I'm already looking for excuses to leave this situation mentally. I finally make eye contact with who's been standing at my stand for probably much longer than I'd expected. She's a girl, with blue hair that's choppy and short, maybe shoulder-length from what I can tell. She's still in her factory uniform, so I'm assuming she was late. Her uniform looks much more torn and used than mine does, though. There are patches all over her shorts and sleeves, and her name tag is impossible to read. Her suspenders have tears in them, and her boots are falling apart, laces ripped and everything. 

It definitely doesn't look like she'd be able to purchase my obnoxiously-priced rugs, so what's she here for? She's also obviously not from the Centre, because of how...used her clothes are, so...what's her deal? As I'm staring at her, puzzled, I finally snap back to reality and realise how rude I've been. Clearly she wants something, so I should listen.

"What's that there hole for?" She asks with an undertone of being tired. It's clear she was made to work the 16 hours. I would be collapsing if that was me, but it's best to be polite. But...she just asked me a question, and I don't know who she is. How do I know if I can trust her? How do I know if she's just gonna rat me out to the Centre so she can live a life of luxury? It's risky, but I pull her under the stand, where nobody will see or hear this discussion. I quietly whisper, "This hole is my escape. I can't stand this awful prison anymore, OK? If you tell anyone, it's game over for you. If you're here to escape, I'll move the hole, got it?" Now, she doesn't know this, but I'm trying my best to be cool here. I'm actually terrified. What if she's a mole placed here by the Centre? What kind of consequences will I face?

She looks me dead in the face, with an expression impossible to read other than "neutral."  As she looks at me, she says only three sentences: "The name's Kate Esukepu. The only reason I'm here is because I want one thing. Let me escape with you, and I guarantee you safety."