{CURRENTLY EDITING/SLIGHT REWRITE.}
Ainsley Ashter was a freak-show. A psychopath. An absolute and utter maniac.... Or so they thought.
She was imprisoned at the age of thirteen when she murdered her parents using nothing but the metal leg of her b...
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" It's Ninety-seven, actually. "
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THE HOURS FEEL LIKE DAYS. If it weren't for the guards coming to check on her every couple hours, she's afraid she'll run out of time. Ainsley Ashter has spent the last five years in Solitary confinement. The silence alone was enough to drive anyone mad, let alone someone like her. Five long exhausting years spent staring at four walls, with nobody but herself for company. Even the guards wouldn't speak with her unless they had no choice.
Not that she blamed them. How do you look at someone who murdered their own parents brutally, with nothing but the metal post of her bed, and her bare hands? The easiest answer? You don't.
She heaves a sigh, half laying, half sitting on her cot, her elbows propped up so her head rests in her palm. Her other hand simultaneously pulls at a string located on the thin blanket. Any time now, she'll be pulled from her room, and dragged down the corridors until they reach the air lock. From there, she'll be locked inside until Jaha presses a button, and then she'll be sucked out to space. A supposed instantaneous death awaits her.
Keeping busy is the only way Ainsley knows to keep the demons at bay. Well, as long as she could. She's in the process of pulling one of the strings in the threading loose, when she hears the thudding of boots hitting just outside her cell. The door squeaks open forcefully, followed by four guards entering quickly. Each looking more nervous than the next.
"Prisoner 179, turn and face the wall!" The guardsman, Walker, shouts leaving no room for arguments.
Ainsley does as she's told. She knows the inevitable fate that awaits her, and there's not really any sense in fighting it. At least now she'll find out what it's like to die. If there's anything on the other side; if there were some truth to May we meet again.
God, she hopes not.
"So, what are my chances of having a last supper?" Ainsley mutters sarcastically from her position facing the wall, but not one guard dared to answer her. It's easy to assume it's because they are all afraid that she'd lash out, but the truth is; she accepts it. Her destiny.
Guardsman Nikolas is surprisingly the first person to approach her from behind, albeit a little hesitant. Ainsley doesn't even have a chance to react, before he's shoving a needle in the side of her neck. The effects of the sedative work quickly as the world around Ainsley blurs. The last thing she remembers is the stinging sensation of something on her wrist.
