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- ᴏɴᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇɴ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ -
The screams- her screams- wouldn't leave her head. The agony, the pain that each deafening yell was laced with, it made chills run down her spine. With every flutter of her eyes, like a projection on ebony walls, the sickening past played on repeat- the same images, over, and over, and over.
To an onlooker, the blonde woman was no more than a dark object, no bigger than a small rock. If not for the chills and tremors quaking her body, you couldn't tell she was even alive.
Her ribs were visible through her pale skin, and her short, blonde hair was matted, she'd long since given up on brushing it out with her fingers. Her collar bone poked out, giving the shadow of a sunken in dune. Her cheekbones, hollow as they could be. And her eyes, her gray eyes had lost every shine they'd ever had, leaving behind a dull charcoal hue. Bags hung under them and carried the baggage that was restless sleep.
Malnourishment stole any energy she had, and Maria wished for death more times than she cared to remember- she was ashamed for the amount of times she'd wished her body would just shut down.
She didn't know how long it had been- how long she was kept in the Fireflies' basement. She stopped counting after six months, but the snow told her it had to be about two years. She'd only been let out a week ago after she heard word that the Fireflies were under new leadership. That same day, all captives were released with nothing more than the clothes on their backs.
Quincey Browne was not a man to be smart with, Maria found that out early into her time being in his quarters. A sharp tongue earned a fist to the mouth, resisting resulted in being forced to the ground and beaten, and lack of manners- yes sir, no sir, thank you, sir- left her with no food for three days. He knew what he wanted out of Maria, and he didn't believe her when she told him she cut all ties with the military. He'd caught wind from God knows where that she was one of the heads in charge over the quarantine zones in Wyoming, a quarantine zone that he claimed took something from him. With all the pent up anger he held, Maria figured that "something" was a someone.
He was killed without finding out exactly what it was he wanted to know. Maria watched his very own daughter take his life. A knife to the jugular was all it took to take that beast out. She remembered it clear as day.
Maria shook as she stayed huddled in a corner. Her stomach had long since ago ceased its angry demands for food. Her mouth was dried and it took all her willpower to reject Jeanie when the sweet girl offered her own water.
Smarting off was why she was suffering this time.
Why she was even here- why the Fireflies- Quincey- even wanted her to begin with was still a mystery to Maria, even after he explained. She had no idea what he spoke of.
They were obviously well into the winter months, judging by how the small figure next to her was her only source of warmth.
Maria had little to no way to decipher the difference between night and day, winter and summer, and weeks and months. She'd already gone days without sleep, her empty stomach twisting with every slight move she made. So, when a girl, slightly younger than herself, wandered into the prison quarters- a girl she'd only seen once or twice- she thought she was hallucinating, so she let her glassy eyes roll to the back of her head.
