~The Society~

Fancy Fucking Wine

The wine cellar is cold.

It made sense that it wasn't heated. Why would it be heated? It was never meant to be a makeshift prison cell for delinquent children.

It just hadn't been an issue before, she supposed. It hadn't been winter before.

That first day when they captured her felt like a blur. A rock hit her head. She was in the car. She was at the top of the stairs, Luke and Jason  on either side of her.

It was almost funny, them flanking either side of her like they always did, only now she was the criminal.

They had paused, waiting, she supposed, for her to walk down on her own. She didn't do it though.

She maybe should've considered the symbolism of walking freely versus being dragged, and independence and whatever the fuck, but she didn't do that. Instead she went limp, forcing them to drag her like a rag doll down the stairs.

She noticed how Luke was being extra careful not to bump her against the walls or handrail, and she almost laughed out loud.

It was just the funniest fucking thing; here he was, literally overthrowing her and framing her for treason, and he was worried about giving her a fucking booboo.

They push her into the cellar and close it quickly. She just stands there, staring at them.

She can tell they're uncomfortable. Good. She wanted them to be.

"We'll be back later with blankets." Luke says.

"You'll get like, food and stuff." Jason says.

She can't help the little snort that comes out of her nose.

"Food? Blankets?" She says, laughing, "am I at the fucking Ritz?" And she's cracking up, face almost aching from her manic grin.

Jason and Luke go from uncomfortable to terrified in a split second, and leave the basement posthaste. It's only when her laughter subsides, and she calms down a little that she notices the chill.

The glass of the wine bottles is cold to touch. Even though she had been brought in hours ago, she hasn't taken off her hat and coat. She's just sitting in the corner with her arms wrapped around her legs, disappearing into the fabric and nylon.

Luke does bring blankets down later, and three pillows, which Allie pushes together for a makeshift bed. He doesn't look her in the eyes.

Coward, she thinks.

She's still in her coat and hat when she goes to sleep, and her jeans, which is wildly uncomfortable.

She wonders if them not bringing food that night had been deliberate, or just a mistake. Knowing her dumbass wardens, she decides they had just completely forgotten.

They do bring her food the next morning. Three eggo waffles wrapped in a paper towel, no butter or syrup. She waits until Clarke leaves before scarfing them down.

She doesn't want to talk to them, really. But she does have to pee, and she's not peeing in the cellar.

When Luke comes down with lunch (a ham sandwich and an apple) she speaks.

"Take me to the bathroom," she says, and it's a command, despite her being thoroughly not in power at the moment.

Luke is caught off guard. She can see the gears working in his head, weighing the choice of whether or not to let her out to pee.

He's not such a bad guy, just a complete fucking sheep, she thinks.

In the end, he runs back up to the living room and shouts something that Allie can't quite make out. In a moment, Clarke and Jason come down, ready to form an escort, and Allie wants to laugh again because it's not like she would have been able to overpower Luke, and all three of them is just so fucking overkill that it's funny.