Emotionless »« Newt

ONE

Twelve years later.

The fear curls up in her nostrils, as if she can smell it emanating from the building. The moment her eyes glance at the clock on her bedside, she realises it's still the middle of the night. Another night of no sleep, and there's no point of staying in bed anymore.

Leandra's legs swing over the end of the bed and she pulls herself up groggily, heading straight over to the bathroom to wash her face, not daring to look up into the mirror, hair most likely hanging around her face with bags under her eyes. Instead she just brushes her teeth and changes, then casts a quick glance towards the table in the corner. The syringe watches her, daunting. You'd think she's used to it by now, but it's just another kind of pain to add to the list.

Half an hour later, she's walking in the corridors, just following her senses as she hums under her breath mindlessly. She knows this place like the back of her hand, so when she stumbles across Janson in his office, she's not surprised in the slightest.

"Of course it'd be you," he realises the moment the door slams open without warning, shaking his head and turning back to the papers he's sorting through. "Only one person keeps coming into my office without knocking. You'd think after all you've been through, you'd learn to be a little quieter."

She smirks. "What doesn't kill me makes me stronger, Janson." She pulls something out of her pocket, a bottle of dark red blood with the date labelled on it. "I got bored, so here's more. Experiment to your heart's content."

Carelessly, she tosses it at him, and he catches it single-handedly with a grin. "Oh, we will." He opens his drawer, revealing a collection of small bottles full of blood, all dated daily. "Thank you, Leandra. Your cooperation is always... useful. By the way, we–"

"Brought in Group A?" she interrupts, tapping her forehead smugly. "Felt it. They were terrified, you know; they were a lot more scared than the girls. Guess that shows which gender is stronger, huh?"

"Just go back to bed," he rolls his eyes, used to her sarcasm by now. "Your sass is too much to handle at this time of day."

She bends in a curtsy, a wide grin stretching on her lips. "Thank you very much, Janson. I'll be taking that as a compliment. And–" She snatches the key card from his desk, "–I'll be taking this, too."

"No."

"Oh, come on!" Leandra huffs. "I just want to go outside for a bit. Call it a midnight stroll."

"If you get bitten–"

"I'm immune."

"Doesn't mean the Cranks can't still kill you," he drawls. "But as much as I wouldn't mind them doing me a favour, we've still got tests to run on you. Plus, I think you'd like to meet Group A at breakfast tomorrow."

Scowling, the blonde drops the card back on the desk with a loud clatter, heading towards the door. "You know, that's no way to speak to someone you've rescued. You don't talk like that to any of the others."

"I reserve it only for you," he rolls his eyes, not looking away from his papers even once as the girl leaves in annoyance, sensing the smugness emanating off him.

"Little, annoying, rat-faced–" She manages to stop her mutters before they get too violent, but it doesn't stop her irritation. Of course she understands why she can't go outside, especially when it's so harmful to her in particular, but it doesn't stop her desire to escape this place. Maybe nothing would ever be good enough to fill that, but years have passed and she's just getting more and more anxious.