Bloodlines and Bullets

nine

I glance at the woman walking beside me, curiosity tugging at me. There's something about her—quiet, composed. Her face, lined with age, suggests she's seen more than most. She moves with purpose, but there's also a calmness in her that makes me wonder who she really is, and what her role is here. I take another bite of my croissant, trying to make sense of it all.

I decide to break the silence, hoping it might ease the tension. "What's your name?" I ask, keeping my voice as casual as possible, even though there's a knot of fear twisting in my stomach.

She glances at me briefly, her expression softening just a little. "Rosalia," she says, her accent thick, the word rolling smoothly off her tongue.

"Nice to meet you, Rosalia," I say, managing a faint smile. The politeness feels awkward, out of place in a situation like this, but it's all I can hold onto.

She gives a small smile in return, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Anche a te, Thalia," she says. They know my name, who I am, why I'm here. There's something unsettling about that.

We continue walking in silence for a bit, and I let the quiet stretch between us. My mind races with questions, but I'm unsure which ones I should ask. Is she a friend? A foe? Something in between? The uncertainty gnaws at me.

I take another bite of the croissant and glance sideways at her. "How long have you worked here?" The question slips out, and I regret it immediately. I'm not sure I even want to know the answer.

Rosalia chuckles softly, though it's a sound tinged with weariness. "Long enough," she replies, her words careful and deliberate. "Too long, perhaps."

There's something in her tone that makes my stomach clench. I wonder what she's seen, how many people have passed through these halls. How many have survived. I don't press her for more details, but her answer lingers, leaving me with a sense of unease. As we walk through the hallways, I start to notice more people. Some are dressed like me in the same black training gear, moving with purpose. A few glance my way, but none linger, their gazes sliding past like I'm just another part of the scenery.

For a brief second, the thought crosses my mind - could I blend in with them? Could I use this to my advantage somehow? But then reality sets in. I'm a prisoner, not a trainee, and there are too many eyes, too many ways to get caught. I finish off the croissant and wipe my hands on my pants. Still, to most of the people around I must look like any other trainee, not someone who was brought here against their will. The thought lingers in my mind, sparking a dangerous idea. Perhaps I can use this anonymity to my advantage and slip away unnoticed.

I slow my pace slightly, inching away from Rosalia as subtly as I can. The activity around us - the constant hum of voices, the shuffle of feet - provides the perfect cover for my movements. With each step, I widen the distance between us, keeping a careful eye on Rosalia to ensure she doesn't notice my attempt to separate myself.

As we near a junction in the path, my heart races with anticipation. This is it - the moment I need to act. Seizing the opportunity, I veer off to the side, pretending to examine something on the ground. My pulse quickens as I glance around, confirming that her attention is elsewhere. Then, I quicken my pace, slipping further away until I'm out of her immediate line of sight.

Now free from her watchful eyes, I walk with purpose, trying to blend in. My steps are deliberate and confident, though inside, my nerves are a tangled mess. I pass by others, keeping my head high and avoiding eye contact, careful not to draw any unnecessary attention. Each turn I take feels like a gamble, a desperate hope that I might find an exit.

After what feels like an endless series of turns, I spot a door that seems to lead outside. I hesitate for a moment, my hand hovering over the handle. If he catches me now... No, I can't think like that. I've come this far. He wouldn't expect me to try escaping again so soon, right? This might be my only shot at freedom.