The Horde

Chapter 3

After she had reached three weeks, Hannah lost track of how much time had passed. By then, the vertical lines of soggy pea's that she had smeared onto her walls to keep track of the days had started to smudge into each other, a few had gradually started to fade into the cement walls that enclosed her. The creaking and groaning of the building shifting encouraged her abnormal sleeping patterns. For the first week she exhaustedly tried to postpone sleeping, scared of what they might do to her when she wasn't awake. In the end, her exhaustion always overpowered her will to stay awake.

Hannah's meal times were rarely consistent, although she always received the same two meals everyday. Dried chicken and oranges were always the first to arrive when she woke up, peas and bread came second. She knew that they were messing with her. They had to be. What other reason could they have to keep me here? Maybe I'm just going crazy. That was partially true, she had been paranoid and on edge since her arrival, yelling at people to save her, even when there wasn't anyone close enough to hear her.

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The walls of her prison seemed to be swallowing her slowly and crushing her spirit. But her somewhat tedious routine was interrupted on her third week. Thomas came to see her. He didn't go into her cell and she hadn't actually seen him, and as far as she knew, he hadn't seen her either. The only light that was on in the entire hallway was very dim and was just outside of her cell. It always flickered or would turn off occasionally, leaving her in a dark oblivion. Thomas was intelligent. He stayed slightly around the corner where the light couldn't even hope to reach, even if it was at its brightest.

"You're gonna get out soon," He had whispered.

The section of the jail that she was in had been empty of any other occupants since her arrival. Regardless of his whispering, she heard what he had said clearly, his words echoing off the walls.

Obviously she had bombarded him with questions afterwards, although she hadn't gotten a reply. I never get an answer from anybody these days.

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Halfway through her fourth week, Hannah noticed the thinly mashed up powder that was mixed into her stale bread during her last meal of the day. She rightly assumed that the powder was to knock her out at the times that they wanted. It blended in fairly well, although today there seemed to be a larger dose, which caused some of it to stick to the tips of her fingers.

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For the next three days, Hannah had blatantly ignored the bread, sliding it back under the door with her serving tray. She had expected some sort of retaliation from her captors, especially since it had been three days. Why would they go to all of the trouble to mix in sedatives with my bread if they didn't care when I was awake or not?

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On the fourth day of her protest, she had another visior, only this time, it wasn't Thomas. She recognized him as soon as he emerged from the shadows that were just around the corner. Drew. I'm going to die, he's gonna kill me. Breathing became a very complex task as she stared into his dark eyes, which she assumed was a very good impression of what his soul must look like. He smiled grimly and then stepped towards her. Hannah refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her back away, and she imitated his smile sourly.

"Why didn't you eat your bread?" He was trying to be casual, but there was a hidden threat in his voice.

"Gluten allergies, you know how it is," She shot back sarcastically.

"Well then, that's a shame for you," Drew took another step towards her, and then another.

Hannah's eyes flickered to the syringe that he had just pulled out from behind his back and watched as a smile tugged at the sides of his mouth. She had never wanted to slap anyone as much as she had wanted to slap him that day.