Stay...Alive

Chapter 11

 Victorine woke up on the hard ground, curled up next to Primus. All night, her dreams had been plagued with images of Timothy staring at her as a bullet ripped through his stomach. Timothy peacefully looking to the sky as he died. Timothy spurting out his very last words. And what made it worse was that she'd expected to wake up in her cot beside her friends, and woke up on the cold concrete.

Everyone else had no choice but to sprawl out on the hard floor and let their exhaustion get the best of them. Frankie's hair was spread in front of her face, and her limbs were sticking out in awkward positions. Horace had fallen asleep sitting with his back against the wall. The blonde lady...wasn't even sleeping when Victorine woke up. Hell, that weirdo probably never slept.

Victorine shifted her body to face Primus and gave him a little kiss on the cheek. She stood up and faced the cell door, thinking. As tiny as she was, she couldn't fit through the bars. Not only were there a bunch of thin bars, but a bar split the door right down the middle, making it impossible to escape.

Victorine squinted her eyes as she looked around the cell block, trying to find people she knew. She spotted Jacey and Parker cuddled up in a cell diagonal from them. If she looked hard enough down the aisle, she could see Anita and Asha. She recognized a few scattered people she'd met in passing, but no one else she was close with.

The cell block was hot and musty, like an old cellar in August. Condensation dripped down the concrete walls. It didn't help that she was incredibly thirsty. It hurt when she swallowed, and her lips were dry as a dessert.

She heard stirring against the concrete floor and whipped her head around to see Horace starting to wake up. She wanted to approach him but opted to keep her distance. When he sat up and face her, Victorine could still see the dry tear stains on his face. It twisted her heart a little.

The blonde lady glanced over her shoulder and said, "Mornin' sunshine."

"Okay, who are you and what's wrong with you?" Horace snapped.

"Nunya," the blonde lady replied. Groaning, Horace glared over at a sleeping Frankie. He threw his empty beer can at Frankie's head.

"Get up already," He grumbled. Frankie moaned in pain and surprise as she tried to lift herself off the ground. Her hair was a mess and she was barely oriented at all.

"Ah-wha?" she mumbled, blinking hard as she looked around the cell. Her eyes landed on Horace and whispered, "Oh."

It took Frankie a second to look around and realize just where she was. And that same fear that hit her before hit her again as she hugged her knees and looked around. Knowing she'd be more accepting of help, Victorine crawled across the cell and gave Frankie a hug.

"Thanks, Victoria," Frankie breathed, hugging Victorine with one arm, but keeping her eyes fixed on her surroundings. The hug felt so good, Victorine didn't even think about correcting Frankie.

When Victorine pulled away, she backed right into Primus, who had finally woken up. Once he was awake enough to see, his eyes widened, then his face relaxed slightly as he remembered. Around her, people were waking up as well. Each took a second to get up after sleeping on the hard floor, and each one took a second to process where they were. And once they did, the shouting began. People called for their family members across the cell block, who were so close but so trapped. Soon enough, a chorus of names filled the air. And it crescendoed more when the family members called back. The symphony of longing got so loud that the security guards at to bang on the bars and demand everyone shut up. With that, the shouting turned to silent weeping.

Frankie listened in on the crying and frowned. "Aw, God. Why'd they take us?"

"Because," the blonde lady answered simply. "They could, so they did."

"But why?"

"They were angry."

"At what?"

"Everything."

"But-"

"Listen, no one has a reason for anything anymore," Horace explained, pessimistically. "There's so much Goddamn fighting that those asshats don't even need a reason."

"But why spend all the money on it, and-"

'When you're as old as I-"

"You're like, twelve."

"Thirteen!"

"That's even worse."

"Shut up! She's, like twelve." He pointed to Victorine, who did not appreciate being a part of this.

"You're not nine?" Frankie questioned, genuinely surprised. Victorine rolled her eyes and mouthed, I wish.

"And you just gotta stop being a pus-"

"You gotta stop being a little twat!"

"SHUT UP!" Victorine yelled.

Even the blonde lady put down her work and glanced over her shoulder, surprised.

"It speaks," she commented, nodding.

"'Course 'it' does, bitch," Victorine muttered, scowling. The blonde lady raised her eyebrows and tried not to laugh.

"She usually does it if she hates you," Horace told the blonde lady.

"Yep," Victorine approved.

Horace slumped down, and Frankie scooted closer to Horace. After sitting in silence for a few seconds, she asked, "Who was an a-hole to you and screwed you up?"

Horace was quiet. "What?"

"That's how it works, dummy. Someone screws up someone else, and then they screw someone else, and then before ya know the world's full of asshats."

"Why do you wanna know?"

"'Cuz then I'd know why you're such an asshat to everyone."

"You seem like a kid that was secretly into Marilyn Monroe movies!" blonde lady chimed in. Horace bit his lip and stared down at his shoes, angry.

Not wrong, he mouthed.

"What else? Other kids?" Frankie questioned.

"Try everyone in the Goddamn world," Horace grumbled.

"Was it the war that screwed you up?"

"News and stuff used to scare the everloving crap outta me until I came to my senses and accepted that that's just life."

"Doesn't hafta be."

"What can we do about it, sweetie? Nothin'!"

"Don't call me sweetie. It's weird."

"Weird as the fact we're trapped in a prison with no escape?"

"Will you shut up about that for a second It's not like we could break outta here!"

"No. Now, what the hell's wrong with you?"

"What did-"

"I told you how effed-up I am. Now it's your turn."

"Okay..." Frankie scooted a little farther, freaked out. "Well...I don' really like t'talk about it."

"We get it, you're gay. I outed myself 'cuz of a t-shirt."

"My gym teacher said 'throw the ball straight' and I said 'I have a hard time being straight.' Apparently, my whole class heard it."

"I had a shirt that said 'bi+rich=bitch' but I didn't wear it until I realized we were all dying anyway. Well, at least all the other kids would..." Frankie started to chuckle.

"Once I bit kid's arm because he called me a 'yip-yap!'" Victorine chimed in. Horace and Frankie went silent and stared at Victorine, confused.

"Y'know, I kinda miss when you didn't talk," Horace admitted.

"Oh, f*** off."