Draven was bored. He had nothing to do, as he had burned all of his books, and here was no one to talk to. He was also annoyed. He had just heard from one of the guards that he would be moving cells. Apparently, he was “too dangerous” to be around anyone else.
His fists clenched as he remembered the guards finding his matches. Those perfect, pure pieces of wood and fuel, all gone in a matter of minutes. He banged his fist against the wall.
A guard came, smirking slightly. “Come on, fire boy,” she said.
Draven growled, and she smirked harder. “Careful, fire boy. You don’t want to go to the Punishment Chamber.”
Draven reluctantly let her cuff his hands together, and followed her to his new cell. It was bigger than his old one, and cleaner. He curled his lip in displeasure, glancing around. It was too bright, and truer was nothing, no loose plaster or broken pottery, to entertain him.
The guard saw his look and sneered. “Not up to your standards, Highness?”
Ivy had heard the news that morning and was not happy about it. This was her space. The most heavily guarded area that wasn't maximum security. She heard the guards coming down and peered out the bars, spotting another person in the same hospital gown-esque clothing she was in. And he was cute. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. All of a sudden, there was snapping in her face and she was brought out of her trance. It was Mariah, her guard. "Hey Peeping Tom, you'll have plenty of time to stare at him later, just leave him be for now." She huffed quietly, sinking back into the corner of her cell, struggling against the confines of her straightjacket once again.
Then, Draven noticed the girl. “You’re really putting me with other people?” He raised an eyebrow. “After what happened to Quamma?”
The guard rolled her eyes and shoved him in the cell. He held up his wrists. “I don’t even get these off? It’s almost as though you don’t trust me or something!”
"Get used to it! They don't trust anyone around here!" She called, giggling to herself. Mariah sighed. "Don't mind her. She hasn't had any company other than me for almost a year so safe to say, she's going to need some time to adjust to it."
“Shame,” Draven sighed at her remark. “I’m a very trustworthy person.” He observes the woman. She had bright red hair, and gorgeous eyes. She was very beautiful, but looked insane.
She night give you a run for your money, Dray, he found himself thinking l, before shoving the thought away.
"The doctors are hoping that if they put her with someone that she'll calm down enough for them to take the straightjacket off and do some tests." Mariah leaned against the wall, glancing at Dray. "Me? Calm? Ha! Don't make me laugh, such a thing doesn't exist anymore." She burst into giggles, a bright psychotic smile plastering itself on her lips. Mariah sighed and shook her head. "I find it doubtful but hey, it's not my place to say they're wrong."
Dray snorted. “What, you not calm? You seem like my definition of calm.” He smirked, leaning against the wall.
She giggled again but this time it sounded more genuine, more real. "Oh really? If your definition of calm is me then you have a pretty fucked up dictionary." "Ivy, relax. I don't need Kyle being called on me again." Ivy pouted slightly. "You're no fun."
Draven snickered. “I dunno. I’m not actually from here, and so yeah, my dictionary if fucked up.”
"I am! Found, prosecuted, and convicted in the same town I grew up in! And they all wonder why I don't trust anyone!" She struggled against the straightjacket once again. "I hate this thing so much." She huffed. "You can't just restrict an Italian girl's hands, I can't talk if you do that!" "That's what they're going for, genius!" Mariah chuckled and Ivy rolled her eyes.
Draven laughed. “Well, I’m from across the globe.”
He picked at the handcuffs, thinking. Could he manage to unlock these? It would be simple.
She slumped against the corner, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. She stared up at the ceiling, recounting for the 10,000th time how she'd managed to get herself in this situation.
But the guards would be more cautious, considering what he had done last time. Frowning, he fiddled with it. He needed something long and easy to bend.
She noticed him messing with the handcuffs and smirked slightly. She knew exactly how to get those unlocked. It was a little trick she'd mastered a while ago. "Need some help with those?" She whispered, her eyes flicking back up to his face.
“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “Can you get them off?”
"There's a small ripped section of padding on the floor next to me that has a nice bent piece of wire under it that would always work for my handcuffs but seeing as I can't use my hands, you'll have to find it yourself."
Draven did as she said, and soon the lock clicked neatly. He smirked, pulling them off and clenching and opening his hands before pulling a lighter from his pant leg.
"Um, you're welcome." She scoffed slightly. Rude. He's cute but has no manners. Says the psychopath! Shut up!
He smirked slightly at her. “Thank you,” he said mockingly.
"That's better." She flashed a bright smile at him before returning to her staring at the ceiling. Maybe he's not so bad. Not like he could ever fall for someone like you. Murderer. She flinched slightly. It wasn't my fault.
Draven didn’t seem to notice her wince. And then he heard the slight sound of shoes squeaking on the floor and winced as memories asaulted him.
“No no no no no!” He whimpered, clutching his head and cowering on the floor. “I’m sorry.”
She buried her face in her knees, trembling slightly as she recounted he event that brought her here. She didn't want to think about it but it wasn't something she could stop, tears dripping down her face.
Draven took deep, sharp breaths. He was panting, sweat was dripping down his face, and he had trouble breathing.
"It wasn't my fault, it wasn't my fault." She couldn't breathe, her voice small and shaky. She trembled harder, tears coming faster. Was it just her or was the room getting smaller?
Biting his lip so hard it started to bleed, Draven managed flying snap out of it, though it still echoed in a corner of his mind. He heard panting and turned to see the other girl, who had her head between her legs. She was crying and whimpering. He stretched out a hand through the bars and almost lay it on her shoulder, then stopped.
