The Woman With No Heart

A Quarter Of a Happy Ending

+L I A

For the two year anniversary of being in this hellhole, I was abandoned by half of our lovely little group.

Well, that wasn't completely true.

Keagan had offered to take me with him when he escaped, and of course, I'd done the noble thing and stayed behind to help Brian. Who, as it turned out, had also escaped. Which left me with my least favorite member of the group.

"You're bleeding," I told said person. Trevor looked up at me, peering out from over the rag he was using to cover his mouth.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really." I tugged the rag out of his grip and handed him a bucket, along with the remains of Brian's water. Sharing would have to do if we were going to survive the three days of food we'd been denied for letting the other two escape. Of course, since it was Rachel, that wasn't the only punishment. Trevor was proof of that.

"Try to spit it out," I advised. "Swallowing won't hurt you, but blood doesn't taste very good, so I wouldn't do it. When you're done, drink this."

He glared at me, but followed my instructions.

"Thanks," he said, when the blood had been washed from his mouth. "Have we run out of painkillers yet?"

"Yes. Sorry."

He slumped against the wall.

"Shit."

I was tempted to make a remark, but thought better of it. Fighting with somebody whose head had been banged multiple times against a wall probably wasn't fair. Instead, I stuck to the doctor version of myself.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Leave me alone."

"I'm checking for a concussion, asshole. How many fingers am I holding up?"

He looked up.

"Four?"

"Yeah. What's my first name?"

"Alexia. Your full name is Alexia Connors, usually called Lia, which makes no sense whatsoever, since it barely has anything to do with your name. Your parents are dead, and you've lived with Keagan since you were nine. Are you fucking satisfied?"

"Stop swearing." I sat back. "One last question. What did I say to Brian the day they shot him?"

"Every story has a quarter of a happy ending," he murmured.

"Good." I held up my hands. "I'm going to leave you alone now. Okay?"

He ignored me.

"Okay, then..."

I turned and strode over to my corner of the room, where seven hundred and twenty marks marked two years. Three hundred seventy nine of them were X's. One X's for each day we were tortured, one I for each day we weren't.

What the others didn't know was that the day the wall reached four hundred X's would be the day I slit my own throat.

Well, every
story needs
a suicidal
kid, eh? No.
She doesn't
actually do it.
Thoughts, Maria?
This is written
by laurengray04