Prudence was rudely woken, as she was always, by the guards. She sighed quietly to herself, and rose from where she had been huddled in the corner, again like she always was. She ran a hand through her hair, attempting to brush it. She wished she could just simply cut it off, cut it short. 

[i]Rough hands, yet gentle at the same time, twirled their fingers in her hair, and for a second, everything seemed alright. Then her hair was pulled roughly, and she shrieked in pain[/i]

She swayed on her feet, pale and sweaty, darting her eyes all through the cell, clearly looking for an escape root, like a deer in headlights. She took three deep calming breaths, and then forced herself to try and figure out her situation. As the door to her cell was opened, she briefly considered darting out, and then threw that thought aside. No. She waited patiently as the guard entered, and restrained her hands. She waited until they had taken ten steps down the hall, and then she attacked. She brought a knee up, twisting around, into the guards belly. She heard his breath whoosh out of him, and grimaced at the stench. 

Perhaps she had gotten cocky perhaps she just didn't pay attention. But darkness descended. THe dream, the one she always had, rose up.

[i]She was cooking, looking over her shoulder hesitantly, her tear stained face bruised and battered, with a trickle of blood on her face. She never left the house when it was this bad. Not that that matter. She didn't have anyone to care if she became a home body or not. She returned to the food, wishing she had the guts to poison it. But he had never eaten before she had, even when he had...even before. At first, she had thought that gentlemanly. Now she realised he was cunning. She just didn't have the strength to take her own life, even if it was to take him down too. 

Her thoughts wandered, and she swayed. And then she was on the ground, the cool floor a comfort to her against her bruised and battered skin. It was then that she noticed the heat and the smoke, and as she sucked in a deep breath, she coughed it out.A instinctual need to survive washed over her, and she pushed herself up, beginning to crawl for the door. The biggest struggle was opening it, leaning up on her knees to twist the handle, and pull it open. As fresh air washed over her, she drew in deep breaths. Her throat felt raw, and her longs demanded fresh air. She whimpered, and continued to crawl...[/i]

That day had both been the best and worst day of her life, except perhaps for the day her parents had died. That was probably the worst. She jolted out of her unconsciousness with a barely muffled scream, and she flinched away, looking about wildly. She cringed away from the other people around her, and looked down at her hands. After a second, she raised a hand to her forehead, rubbing the barely visible scar there. What was going on?

Someone voiced that question, and she surprised herself by replying softly, "They are either moving us. Or getting rid of us" She lifted her head, and her light brown eyes were conflicted. For once though she wasn't afraid.