𝓬𝓾𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓭 | 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓵 𝓭𝓲𝔁𝓸𝓷❌

one

Tossing another blood-soaked paper towel into the large freezer, a happy sigh passes her lips. "That's fucking better," Macon groans quietly, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Without the feeling of the rough paper between her legs, all she feels is her thighs against each other, a thin layer of fabric between them. Despite the chaffing the pants do to the inside of her thighs, she would much rather have that than paper towels that are as dry and as rough as her humor.

"How many days has it been?" she asks. She doesn't ask for someone in particular, but just wanted an answer to the question.

"292," Big Tiny states, getting a nod from her.

"94 according to my-"

"Shut up," Tomas snaps, shutting Axel down immediately.

"Look it's been over ten months. That's all that matters," she states, giving the boys a look of boredom. Ten months of bickering is getting her on edge. Hell, the first two days put her on edge. "At some point, we need to get the fuck out of here," she sighs, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"And how would we do that, chica?"

"We can still try the air vents." When she was still in block B, her job was fixing anything that broke. And the one thing that broke the most was the air conditioning system. So she was forced to learn about the entire system, including the ventilation. She was going to use that knowledge to help her escape until she was moved to isolation.

"We might as well try it," Axel shrugs. The corner of her lips move up, happy to have someone agree with her.

"And if you get caught?" She turns her sight on Andrew. A look of confusion crosses her face before she deadpans.

"Get caught?" she questions, letting a scoff pass her lips after. "We've been hiding out in this damn food cabinet from ten months and you're asking if I get caught?" She raises a brow. Andrew forces his eyes away from her, a splash of red on his face symbolizing his embarrassment. "Give me a lift, I'll go to the other side and open the thing up, simple."

Despite the look of annoyance from Tomas and Andrew, Oscar and Big Tiny give her a lift. Pulling at the opening roughly, the rusty screws come out with ease. A cloud of dust hits her face, making her nose scrunch in disgust. Nonetheless, she pulls herself up. "Be careful." She looks back, giving Oscar a sly grin.

"Don't get your boxers in a bunch." With one swift move, she lays in the air vent. The only light given to Macon is through the vent openings, and as she passes each one, small amounts of joy fill her as she breathes in clean air through it. It's filled with millions of dust particles, but it's better than being around those boys for a moment longer. The feeling of dust in her throat creates an indescribable and impossible itch that can never be reached.

"Why couldn't I have just gone with him, Mom?" She stops her movements for a moment, wondering where the voice came from. Hearing a loud sigh, she sees it's coming from the air vent ahead of her. She keeps her movements slow, eyes moving wildly as she looks at a boy through the opening. Tilting her head, her eyes land on a brunette. Despite the brunette's slim frame, the large belly she has makes her look odd and disfigured.

"Like your father said: You're here to protect us."

"There's no one here."

"I beg to differ," Macon grumbles. After a moment a thought comes to mind, wondering how civilians even got into the cell block. Or worse, matter-of-fact, where did the rest of the inmates go? She isn't given the answer, as the vent breaks under her weight. "FUCK!!!" She lands on the second-floor balcony with a loud thud. She feels her head bounce off when it makes contact with the floor, as does the rest of her body. Laying still for a moment, she waits for any sign of distress, indicating she may have broken something. Luckily, none seem to surface, leaving her instead with an intense dull aching pain all across her body.

"Okay, I kinda deserve that one," she groans, finally opening her eyes. Despite her blurry and double vision, she forces herself to her feet. Turning her head, she notices the civilians staring at her; a blond girl and a gray-haired lady come into her range of sight as well, both looking in suspicion but also an underlying layer of fear. "Uh..." Macon trails off, noticing the boy aiming a gun at her. Raising a brow, she gives the four a wave, the awkwardness radiating from her skin. "Hi?"

"How did you get here?" the boy questions. Despite his attempt to be menacing, his small stature and high voice remind Macon she's talking to a little kid.

"I kinda live here." Despite not answering the question, the boy should've figured she was a prisoner. Her orange jumpsuit was tied around her waist, showing a sweat stained shirt that seemed to be a few sizes too large. Her hair is a bigger mess than the boy's own hair, her loose curls being held up by a hair tie. Despite this, she can still feel the sweat forming a thin layer over the back of her neck. She tries to wipe it off, only to get her fingers stuck in her hair for a few moments.

"Look, I'll leave. Can you guys just tell me what is-"

"Open the door! It's Hershel!" Everyone turns towards the yelling. The boy grabs a ring of keys from his back pocket. Another group of people roll in an elderly man on a cart. Going out on a whim, "Hershel" got his ass beat badly, as he doesn't have part of his leg.

"Huh." That's the only sound that leaves Macon's lips, everyone too distracted to notice her presence.

After some time a man with a beard comes out, his eyes landing on her. Without missing a beat, he pulls his gun out, aiming it at her. "How the hell did you get in here?" Now, that voice is menacing. Nonetheless, she was used to people trying to terrify the shit out of her, so she stays calm and collected.

"I fell from the vents." She points a finger upwards, the man giving it a glance before his eyes fall on her again. "Can you tell me what is going on?" she adds, but doesn't receive an answer as an argument breaks out in the dayroom. She watches as the man looks behind him and back at her multiple times, seeing as the gears turn in his head before something clicks.

"You get your fellas to calm down, then we'll talk." It takes a moment for her to understand what he means by "fellas".  When she does understand, it forces a tired sigh past her lips.

"Y'all are always in some fuckin' trouble," she grumbles, moving down the stairs and past the armed man. She can feel his presence behind her but pays no mind to it as she spots the idiot waving a gun around. "Tomas!" she groans. "Drop the piece, man!" she exclaims, waving her arm around in annoyance. A man with a crossbow and another man with a gun turn their aim on her. She doesn't flinch. She instead responds with so much sarcasm it drips from her words. "Why is it I have three pieces on me instead of this dumbass over here who has the gun?" she scoffs, throwing her arm towards Tomas.

"And who are you calling the dumbass, puta?" It takes a moment for Macon to let the insult sink in. When it does, she takes a few steps towards him and the rest of the boys, finding her anger beginning to boil over.

"You're aiming a gun at civilians," she clarifies, emphasizing the last word. She doesn't wait for his reaction as she opens her mouth once more. "They broke into a damn prison. And I would like to find out why. But, the only way that is happening is when you drop that gun."

"And why would I listen to you?" She has to bite her tongue, shutting her eyes tightly to make sure she doesn't say anything stupid. Nevertheless, a few words slip through.

"I swear to God I will move out the way and let 'em shoot you if you don't gimme' the fucking piece you stupid ass bitch."

Maybe more than a few words slipped by.

"How about I shoot you instead." It's a statement more than a question. And she knows it is when she feels the cold, metal barrel placed on her forehead.

It becomes so quiet that Macon could've sworn she heard a cricket. It's broken though when an airy chuckle passes her lips. For one reason or another, she finds this situation the slightest bit hilarious.

"You done being a puqueña puta? Huh?" She lets out a silent giggle, biting her tongue in hopes that her words don't betray her.

"Crystal," she nods. After a moment she feels the gun lower from her head. And soon, her eyes open. "Now was that so hard?" she wonders. She doesn't wait for an answer, knowing she would most likely not receive one from Tomas. Instead, she turns around, forcing her attention to the citizens. "Alright," she sighs, a sarcastic smile on her lips, "what the fuck is going on?"