Trumpets, as usual, kicked Rebecca's morning off. Groaning, she got out of bed, mentally preparing for a new day at the Home. Beginning her short morning routine, she wondered if today would bring anything new. She glanced at the lesser pile of library books on her nightstand, recalling the previous night. Throwing on a nearby dress, she pondered what to read next time she had an hour - or more - to kill. Life at the Home was... alright, but it sorely lacked freedom. Rebecca missed the freedom of her old life, her friends, her parents. Rebecca was ripped from her thoughts as a suddenly heavy towel slipped from the counter. Sighing, she put it in place, finishing up her morning routine with a simple ponytail.

Rebecca began making her way to the mall, stomach subtly growling at her, as if telling her to hurry up. Walking, she looked around the Home, admiring the plants and nature - such things were nearly almost pristine, no doubt thanks to Persephone. In a way, the perfection of the Home was comforting. In another, it was deeply disturbing and clinical, like taken out of a children's book. A light shudder ran down her spine. No matter what, she couldn't quite shake that feeling of being watched like a common pet, something to toy and experiment with. Not that that was entirely wrong - as far as she could tell, it certainly seemed as if Miss. Dawson was watching, waiting, at all hours.

[i]Oh well,[/i] Rebecca thought, [i]that's not easily changed, and I'm starving.[/i]