The Rebel Queen

Epilogue #2 (Of 3)

Landon's POV

I awoke to a pounding headache and unfamiliar surroundings, nothing like I was used to. My nose was filled with a stench, like mold and rotten food. And my eyes were filled with the image of where I was now. I was surrounded on all sides by cement walls that left no room to breathe, each covered with cracks and dirt. I was lying on a mattress on the ground, if you could even call it that. With a single blanket, as thin as a sheet of paper and no where near long enough to cover my tall form, and a pillow, so flat that it must only have a single feather in it. The mattress, or slightly cushioned rock as I've deemed it, must of been meant for a child and my legs hung off the end, my ankles lying on the cold concrete floor. One ankle was secured by a chain. My eyes followed the length of the chain to where it was connected to the wall. Well at least they were courteous enough to give me enough chain length to reach the toilet.

I took my cell in as a whole. A mattress. A sink. A toilet. A chair. Not a table. Just a chair. All crammed into a tiny concrete room with no windows and 1 medal door. I didn't even think about trying to open that door. Not that I could reach it with the chain wrapped securely around my ankle keeping me in one half of the room.

I stretched my legs out, pushing my hand against the wall and supporting myself while I stood up. I was still in slacks and a dress shirt. I must of fallen asleep in my day attire before I was taken. I turned my head, painfully trying to work out the crick in my neck.

I looked around. Here's what I got. I was taken by the southern rebel's. They snuck into my room during the attack, knocked me out and took me to what I'm presuming is there base. Most likely to torture me or kill me. That or use me as leverage to get my parents to do their bidding.

I fell back onto rocky the mattress and closed my eyes. I ran a hand through my hair, pulling on the edges out of stress, a habit I'd inherited from my father. What a mess I'm in.

There was a click, a gust of air, the sound of the door opening and then the presence of another person. I didn't even bother opening my eyes.

"Still asleep," I heard the person mutter.

"Incorrect," I said.

"Oh!" The person gasped. I've determined the person is a female. Maybe they'll be nice and make this death a lot quicker.

I peaked an eye open. The women stood at the opposite side of the room, in the furthest corner near the door. As if she thought I was going to escape somehow. I could probably overpower her. But I definitely couldn't overpower the knife strapped to her thigh, the gun on her hip, and the hundreds of rebels that I'm assuming are outside that door.

"If you're awake than get up," The women commanded.

"Don't want to," I said, closing my eyes again.

She was suddenly next to me, her hands gripping my arms and her nails tearing into my skin. "Do you want to die?"

"Not particularly," I decided

"Then it's best that you not mess around."

She released my arm, throwing it at me with a jerk. She crossed back to the other corner of the room, retaking her perch at the door.

"I thought your sister was supposed to be the snarky one. Your supposed to be polite. Easy."

"I'm only polite to people who are worthy of it. Not rebel scum," I spit.

"Your just gonna make things worse for yourself here," She jeered in return.

"Going to," I corrected

"Excuse me?"

I sat up, leaning against the wall. "I am going to make things worse for myself here. You said gonna. Gonna is not a proper word."