"Tenn," the guard spoke, "is he ok?"

A sorrowful buzz welled in your chest. "Tenn?" You echoed, puzzled.

The guard was hesitant before replying, "Yeah."

"He's been ok." Your answer was truthful yet vague, wary of the stranger.

"That's good. How are..." the guard paused, swallowing the lump plaguing her throat, "how are his boots holding up?"

Fog filled your mind, confusion clouding your thoughts. "Um, we had to tape them up the other day," you remembered, "the rain was pretty bad - we didn't want his feet to get wet."

The guard scoffed gently, her demeanour melancholy. "Tenn always loved those boots." Her voice wavered. "I tried to preserve them as much as I could but at this point they must be more holes than rubber, they're so old." She let out a quiet sigh. "...And what about Violet? She's still alive, right?" She barely looked over her shoulder at you. "She has to be." She added in a whisper.

"Violet's fine." You said, "She's the one who taped up Tenn's boots."

"Is she now?" The guard took a moment, "Does... does she spend a lot of time with him?"

You thought. "I never really see her with anyone else. They spend a lot of time by Tenn's sisters' graves."

The atmosphere was sorrowful as silence loomed over the guard. The air was brisk as the unsettling hums of machinery clicked with the uneasy tension. The guard's shoulders briefly wracked with grief before she peered at the puddle of claret beside her, rummaging in her pocket and retrieving something. When she turned around, you finally saw her face: she had pale skin adorned with star-like freckles, icy blue eyes gazing softy at you, a solitary scar slicing through her red eyebrow. Half her head was shaved, the other short, unkempt locks cascading down her temple to her cheekbone. 

Slowly, she unlocked your cell, carefully stepping inside and crouching in front of you, extending her arm to hand you a clean checkered cloth. "Hopefully this will stop the bleeding." You gratefully accepted, pressing it against your injury, thanking her. "I'm sorry this happened, but that's how things work around here - you have to cooperate."

You frowned. "Cutting my finger off is a big fucking overreaction, wouldn't you say?"

Her reply was immediate. "You weren't cooperating."

"Didn't need to maim me for it." You replied.

She frowned. Scrutinising each detail of your face, she asked, "When did you arrive at Ericson's? You were never there before."

Switching your attention between her and the bloody cloth, you informed, "About a month ago."

"You're not like the others." The guard hummed, eyes still carefully observing you. "What's your name?"

"(Y/N)." You responded.

The guard stared at the ground next to you, debating something before cautiously whispering,  "Abel wants to kill Brody." Her piercing gaze fastened onto you. "He said it would shut both of you up."

A fearful jolt shot through your chest, sitting at the pit of your stomach. Before you could respond to the harrowing fact, a voice echoed through the corridor, "Minerva!"

"Shit." Frantically, she dashed outside, forgetting to close the door. "Rockingham!"

The woman from earlier trudged up to her, scowling at the open cell door which Minerva had scampered from. "What are you doing?" She lacked a response, umming and ahhing as her mind scoured excuses. "You mustn't talk to the prisoners," commanded the woman, "they're not your family anymore. Got it? You know what'll happen if you don't."

Minerva firmly nodded. "Yes, ma'am." She was a deer in headlights. The woman glowered at you, slamming your cell door shut, promptly marching off. Shooting you a final concerned look, Minerva trailed after.

Minerva -  that name had been run by you before. You arose, watching her disappear from sight. Curious, you whispered through the bars, "Brody?" By now, Brody's hysterics had ceased, instead standing adjacent to you, countenance red and puffy, eyes bloodshot. "Who was she?" Her face was guilt-ridden, eyes wide in distress. It was then you noticed a tremble in her hands: she knew something you didn't. "Brody?" 

"Tenn's sister." Her voice was barely above a whisper. 

Your face furrowed to a thoughtful frown which imminently contorted to one of betrayal. Your mind whirred, putting two and two together. "You told me she died. Why did you lie to me?" 

Brody remained silent, a solitary tear dripping from her eye. "I had to." Her single tear evolved into a cry, "Marlon would've killed me if I told anyone."

You blinked. "Marlon?" Brody nodded. Your gaze trailed to the ground, resting your forehead against the brisk metal bars, "So we're not the first?" You heaved a sigh, dragging yourself to the bed and situating yourself at the centre. Slouching, you clasped your hands together, the dried blood sticking to your skin as your fingers intertwined.

Escaping was at the forefront of your mind -  you needed to warn the others, rescue them from facing your fate or worse.