There was a knock on the cell door sometime after we got breakfast, which was unusual considering throughout the weeks we had been in here that had never happened so far. The four of us gave each other confused looks as the door started slowly opening and on the outside there were multiple guards making their way inside the room.
Blasius jumped up from the ground to step in front of the guards as they ambushed the room. Unlike last time, they had multiple guards take hold of Blasius's arms, which allowed them to subdue him fairly easily. Although he hadn't exactly tried to stop them.
"What is this?" He asked as they brought us out of the room with handcuffs chaining our hands behind our backs.
"You're all being temporarily transported to the main cell," one of the guards had answered monotonously.
The rest of the walk to the main room was silent. I was almost sure that my friends had the exact same thoughts on their mind as I did. The one question: why were we going back to the main room? My head was running wild with different theories and explanations about why there was any reason they would bring us back to the room only temporarily, but only time would tell.
When they finally got us back into the main cell, they took our cuffs off and pushed us in the room. Without any further explanation, the cell door was slammed shut leaving us to fend for ourselves. I looked around the room and couldn't help but notice there were people missing. Whether some people had acted out and got themselves locked in confinement as we did or there were casualties during escape, I wasn't exactly sure.
The four of us got situated around a table. Although I was instantly reminded of the good times we had chatting around them, it only reminded me further how eery the current silence was. Unknowingly, my leg started bouncing from beneath the table. Throwing a glance my way, Blasius takes one of his hands and rubs from my knee to slightly up my thigh, a calming gesture. When I met his eyes, he gave me a gentle smile.
"Attention everyone! Listen up!" I almost jumped as a booming voice came from behind me. The regard of everyone in the room instantly focussed on the multiple guards that stood just outside the cell wall.
"Number 27, number 88, and number 600. Stand up and come this way."
It takes a few minutes, but eventually two men and a woman stand from various spots in the room. They all share the same look of panic, while everyone else in the room hold a look of confusion and fear. Once the three people are taken out of the room without struggle, the room's atmosphere changes near instantly. Chatter starts to bubble throughout the room as everyone begins theorizing what will happen to the three people.
⇎ ⇎ ⇎
Once the guards place us back in our own room, we begin conversing too.
"Killing us in threes, huh," Menas hummed.
Silva only glares at him with dark golden eyes, "We don't know for sure they're being killed."
"Whatever it is they're doing in there, I think it's safe to assume that it'll be us they call eventually," I added, "considering they brought us to that room."
With my words the room fell silent again. I imagine the fact that it could be us next is finally setting in. My eyes wander around the room until they set on Blasius, who I notice has been suspiciously quiet since we got back.
"Blasius, are you okay?"
He turns to face me, disoriented, "That woman was part of my pack. But you're right Amicia. Whatever it is, we might be next and we need to do something soon if we want to prevent that from happening."
"We need to find a way out," Silva shifts off of the bunkbed and looks out the single, tiny window on the large metal door that locks us in.
"If we want to get out, we're not going that way," Menas sighs. He's right, though. There was extra protection outside due to our last attempt at escaping and there was certainly nothing here that would allow us to get through them.
I contemplated what it would be like if we did nothing at all. I would never see my family again and although that would hurt me, it would hurt them too. Thinking about them now, I wondered if they even knew I was alive right now. Their child was ripped from their arms with absolutely no explanation as to what would happen to her, just that they may never see her ever again. They could think I'm dead right now and if the people here were to kill me, at least they wouldn't have gotten their hopes up just to be notified that I had died.
But I was only 17. Or 18 perhaps, since I had no idea how much time had passed since I left home. Either way, my life had barely began. This was the first time I had ever left Rotherhithe, the village I lived in, and I couldn't even go out and explore. I hadn't finished my proper education yet, I had never had a job, I hadn't even kissed a boy yet! There was no way I could let myself go without doing anything about it. Although we had tried to escape once and failed, I knew there was more to be done.
"We'll find a way," I tried to speak as soothing as I could, even though the well-wish was essentially empty. We may not have any plans yet, but we would and I would make sure of it.
⇎ ⇎ ⇎
Our conversation had died down fairly quickly that evening, and everyone was tired out from all of the emotional distress from the evening we had, wondering what our fate was. Before heading to bed, I went to the bathroom.
Although I already knew I didn't want to see whatever reflection would stare back at me, I was drawn to the mirror anyway. I expected to see even a shadow of the person I used to be, but there was nothing familiar about the face in the mirror. My eyes had dark bags from the nightmare-filled sleeps, my cheeks were hollowed from lack of proper nutrition, and my eyes lacked the amicable glint that used to appear in them.
I sighed as I looked up. The dried paint was almost drooping from the ceiling. I didn't remember the last time I had picked at it, but the damage was even worse now than it had been last time. Without even thinking, I picked a tiny chip off, reveling in the satisfying crunch it made as it separated from the rest. My fingers played with the little piece, turning it over in my hands despite there being nothing interesting about it. It was just a plain old white paint chip.
I dropped it to the floor and began peeling off the rest of the hanging bits, although there wasn't much. When I finished, I took my time staring at the ceiling above. The majority of the castle's dungeons I had seen were made out of the same old stone and brick. Even the bathroom in the old cell hadn't been painted like this and while it hadn't struck me as odd then, it certainly did now that I paid attention to it.
Most likely due to the same water damage causing the paint to peel, there was the tiniest bit of rotted wood underneath the painted ceiling.