Mind Mapping.

I stare at the cell wall, counting the bricks. It's not like there's anything better to do in this place, and maths has always been my strong point. There are eighteen bricks across, and forty three down to make seven hundred and seventy four per wall. Multiply that by three walls, you get a grand total of two thousand three hundred and twenty two. Ish. I feel better for knowing that. 

Well, they say to take pleasure in the small things. 

My cell mate creaks dangerously in the bed above me, and I flinch, expecting the whole frame to collapse on top of me at any moment. Of course, he had politely informed me that if I even thought about taking the top bunk for myself, he would personally see to it that I couldn't climb up there at all. I consider the idea that he could be good as my own kind of body guard against the meaner inmates. Maybe in return I could teach him to count. He would certainly put the wind up that Fire Lady's backside.


I hadn't expected to like it here very much, but so far being locked behind bars has surpassed even my pessimistic standards. In the short time I've been here I've been threatened, beaten, threatened, and then threatened a little bit more.  Before, I'd simply hoped the others would ignore me. Apparently my small stature and politely terrified expression serves as more of a beacon to the larger and stronger of the prison, rather than a deterrent. 

The scuffling of feet down the corridor has me sitting bolt upright in my bunk, narrowly  missing the bottom of the bed above me. I grit my teeth in an effort to made as little noise as possible as I get up out of my pit and creep over to the bars. 

It's dark, but my eyes are adjusted enough for me to see figures heading in my direction and I back up, so that they don't see me. As they pass, I see that it's the nice lady-guard, Tiny or something, the big fella and his jumpy friend that made a beeline for me the other day. That doesn't seem too out of order; you can usually hear the shuffle of someone wandering the halls in the middle of the night. What's unusual I decide, is that fact that Nevada and the Dragon-lady are trailing after them. 

"Hey!" I stage-whisper, and the two of them stop dead in their tracks. My tone doesn't quite have the brave tone I was hoping for, but it could have been worse. The crazy one's eyes flash supernaturally in the dark, and Nevada places her hands on her hips. 

"Waddaya want?" She mutters, just low enough for me to hear. I gulp.

"Where are you going?" I try to sound indifferent, but again I don't really pull it off.

"Nothing to do with you, White-Out." Crazy hisses back . I can't for the life of me remember her name. Something to do with being mad though, I think.

"Aw, c'mon. Let me in on this." I plead. Pleading's what I'm good at. I have an excellent whining voice. 


"Please? I know where they've gone." For a moment, the two of them look surprised, and glance around themselves as though hoping to still see the other party, but they're long gone. And there are about four different places they could have been heading. I can remember every single corridor I've been in since getting here; I also have a good memory. 

Crazy glares as me, her eyes flashing again, and I know she's scoping me out. She said before she can tell if I'm lying, so it shouldn't take her long to realise I'm telling to truth this time. A quick nod in Nevada's direction, who sets to work on the lock, and I'm free from my cell. I didn't think it could be so easily done. Quietly, we lock the gate again behind me. Suddenly, Crazy's hands shove me against the wall, pinning me there.

"Well?" She demands, flashy eyes and all. Nevada puts a hand on her shoulder, somewhat tentatively. 

"Ana. You know he'll tell us. You don't need to rough him up." I point a shaky finger towards the east staircase. 

"The infirmary."



The End

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