There is no nail on her left index finger and it is still bleeding. She is filthy. She is outside in her pajamas. She is not wearing shoes or glasses. It is almost dawn. She is standing in a hole about five feet deep and she is holding a dirty metal box.
“Over here! I see her!” Someone calls, “By the wall!”
Panicking, she covers the box in dirt to hide it and scrambles out of the hole and says, “I’m not going to resist! I’m not—”
But they bring her to the ground and jam the needle in anyway.
Miranda is not going to get them out. This leaves Clarke two options: Either wait and see or escape by himself.
Beating his way out would be easy, but Miranda doesn’t like it when he hurts people or breaks things.
So instead he is going to dig a tunnel by the wall in the far corner of the grounds. Dirt is piled high around him when his left hand jams into something hard. Miranda stirs. His control is slipping.
Before she can take over completely, he digs around the hard thing and pulls a long metal box into the light.
The only sounds are Miranda’s page turning and Lye’s banter with the volunteer librarian.
“So you’re from White Haven?” Lye drawls.
“Does he have to talk to everyone?” Shou hisses under his breath.
Miranda glares at Shou. “It breaks up the monotony.”
Shou winces, embarrassed that she heard him, and then is embarrassed that he winced. “Is there anyone he doesn’t like?”
“No, I’m from Riverdale.”
“What a commute!”
Miranda looks exhausted. Is she sleeping alright? Shou scratches his arm.
At last she says, “Most people, but it takes his mind off of being here,” and returns to her novel.
She doesn’t sit up.
“They figured out Clarke needs more sedatives,” she mumbles flatly when Lye enters her room.
He pulls her glasses out of his pocket. The left lens is missing. “They should have you a new pair by the end of the week.” He places them on the pillow beside her head.
Miranda’s fingers curl around the hem of his shirt. “Thank you,” she murmurs.
He sits on the bed beside her and runs a hand through her hair. “It’s growing back,” he says lightly.
She doesn’t answer.
He brushes her hair until she cries herself to sleep.
“I don’t have all day,” snaps the Orderly.
She turns the cup slowly, buying time. Clarke won’t let her lift her arm. He doesn’t want the pills. She doesn’t know what to do.
“Miranda,” Lye says it like a warning.
Shou looks nervously between Miranda and the impatient Orderly.
Her hand shakes, Her grip tightens. Clarke hasn’t been loose in days. He’s mad.
“Please,” she whispers.
“Is this going to be another situation?”
She drops the cup.
Lye has just enough time to gather Shou behind his back before Clarke throws himself at the orderly with a howl of rage.
“How are you adjusting?”
She refuses to answer until he stops writing.
He repeats the question.
He looks up. “Miranda?”
Victory! “No negative side-effects, but I don’t think it’s working.” Clarke inches forward in her mind. She shoves him back. Not now.
The doctor scribbles. Clarke thinks he looks soft and breakable. Miranda bites the inside of their cheek.
“We’ll up your dosage. These things take time.”
Clarke wants to hurt him. Miranda’s control is slipping. “I feel sick. I want to lie down.”
Dr. Smith says, “What do you mean?” into his legal pad.
“Cramps.”
He dismisses her early.
Clarke,
I appreciate your compliance this week, especially in public. I realize you’re anxious to let off some steam, but I’m going to need you to stand by a bit longer. Shou is still tagging along, despite several pointed hints that he wasn’t wanted. I’d rather not introduce you.
—Miranda
Floors creak all night. It’s annoying. —C
Clarke,
I can’t believe you of all people are spooked by this place. It’s an old building. It’s just settling. Try to ignore it.
We’ve got an evaluation with Dr. Smith tomorrow, so I’ll need full control.
—Miranda
When are we leaving? —C
