It Only Turns the World

Not All Endings Are Beginnings

- [Three Days Later] -

Prim wipes a thumb over the picture as she cries. Never once had she regretted using her experimental drug on Harper, until now. Her bottom lip quivers and she bites it to keep from sobbing. She had expected the plane two days ago, and no one had come to her rescue. Prim's logical brain told her surely everyone was dead. The small streams of light coming through the cracks support her assumption that it's a new day. The thing that used to be a man stalks her office, it drifts away, but never far enough for her to escape. Every time she tried, she failed. Harper smiles happily in the family photo; Prim can't help imagining what would happen to them now. She can't wrap her mind around her current situation. Her intellect and tongue still refused to call the lifeless man wandering around, a z-word.

The thirteenth strain of K.H.11.R turned out to be the opposite of helpful. Pushing the photo safely back into her pocket, Prim curls further into a ball. Her breathing is shallow. Perhaps this was her karma. Her bad juju for not sharing her 'miracle drug.' But Prim knew that if anyone ever found out she took a small sample of the drug, let alone tweak it and use it as she did, she'd be dead before she could give her moral reason. Prim's stomach gurgles and her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth.

Prim can't look up from between her feet. The cabinet walls seem to be moving inward - her claustrophobia is her enemy now more than ever - when hiding is the key to her survival. Lack of food and water makes it difficult for Prim to think straight, and her body yearns for sleep. Trying to prevent sleep, she pinches her arm roughly. Prim clamps her teeth together to prevent herself from crying out; sleep is plagued by memories of the death of her colleagues. She's too dehydrated to shed tears, her eyes burn, forcing her to close them.

I should have been more dominant in my opinion...if I had then maybe... Limbs shake. Or called someone who works above me...whose pay grade matches the mess.

Somewhere between the self-loathing and the gloomy thoughts of never seeing her family again, Prim's body succumbs to sleep. And when she wakes, the silence greeting her ears is enough to make her momentarily believe she's imagined the past three days of hell. In her sleep, the pain in her stomach hadn't ceased and the fire in the back of her throat had only worsened; she'd do anything for a sip of water. The muscles in her legs twitch, begging to be released from the bent position. Prim raises a hand to the door. Then she hears it-the shuffling. Her hand fell away. The soft sound shatters her hopeful state.

Prim shoves her greying hair from her face, while trying to push herself further into a corner of the small enclosure. Low groaning and clicking sounds, followed by things crashing, let Prim know it's inching closer. She picks at the cuticles on her left hand, counting backward from ten. Ten. Nine. A loud thud against the cabinet causes her to yelp which she smothers quickly. But the damage is done. Prim presses her hands harder against her mouth, shuddering as nails rake down the metal. Sniffing sounds fill the space, but her heartbeat soon drowns it out. It begins slamming itself against the cabinet. Sobbing, Prim prays for the thing with Liam's face to go away. The doors are caving in and will give out any second. Prim releases a scream, her legs, and arms shake as she uses the last of her strength to keep it out. Suddenly the pounding ceases. She hears the thing drop to the floor and the door is ripped open. Prim is about to swing out with her foot when she catches sight of Victoria and Hudson, a bloody crowbar in hand.

Prim's voice comes out dry. "Oh, Thank fuck."

Victoria and Hudson work together to get her up. She can barely walk, barely conscious because of malnutrition. Prim clears her throat; she touches Hudson's arm and he returns a gentle touch to the side of her face. He gives her a small smile and turns away.