survival of the sneakiest.
Who: Rosette LaChance
when: lost count.
"Sometime in... October..." appeared as markings of ink on a page in a
small book, a young woman scratching into a journal of some kind.
Dim, red light illuminating just enough for her to write, from the
emergency lighting that was always on in these storage rooms.
"Beginning to lost hope that i'm ever going to get out of here" she
continued, almost talking to herself as she wrote. "I've tried to get
off this ship this morning, but there were too many guards..."
She sighed, and reached out for a bottle of water she'd swiped from a
cooler in the storage room she'd been hiding in for god knows how
long. A makeshift bed, made of clothes lay in the corner of the room,
surrounded by boxes. She'd made this place her home for now, and
wondered if she'd ever sleep in her own bed again, even though hers
wasn't exactly more comfortable than this.
A tear landed on the paper, smearing a bit of ink. "I miss everyone
so much... i wish i'd never gone along with that stupid dare..." she
wrote, before closing the book, and wiping the tear from her face.
She stuffed the book back under her bed, and stood up. Her deep
purple shirt, looking almost black under the light, and her frayed
jeans, on their way to becoming shorts.
"I have to find a way out of here.." she said to herself, edging
around the storage crates to the door, using the code card she'd
stolen, the door made a slight *clunk* as it unlocked, holding it ajar
slightly, she peered out to make sure no one was looking, before
darting out into the corridor, and making her way around to wherever
it was that this way took her, making sure to move quietly, so she'd
be able to hide from anyone coming.
*well, thats my entrance, hope no one sees me, i'm not exactly
supposed to be on board...
yeah, that means don't find me, you're not supposed to yet!*