WHO: Wren WHEN: August 17th, night WHERE: Her room WHAT: Finding and dealing with this RATING: Low STATUS: Completed
Between watching someone die and the labels on her door a few days after, Wren wasn’t exactly in the best emotional shape. She’d spent the night on Rae’s floor, because the idea of sleeping in her room was far less comfortable and being around people, no matter how cramped, made Wren feel better. She had so longed to step outside the little circle of defence she put up and bring people in, so they could get to know the real Wren. Maybe she’d come away with a friend or maybe she’d have to move on but since the world had crumbled, there really wasn’t much to lose. She’d lost everything of real importance. Wren’s current options were to live alone in a very isolated world or possibly get rejected by one person. They didn’t seem so difficult to chose from now.
Perhaps going back to her room was a bad idea, but she’d made sure to bring someone this time. He had showed up in the infirmary with a fairly bad cut on his hand, Philip, he had said his name was. Wren had seen him around the compound a few times, he had a wife and child he shared an apartment with. They walked side by side in silence, it was comfortable despite the level of acquaintance.
It didn’t take the two long, Philip had offered to go into the building with Wren but she declined. The cell block was fairly well lit, she could hear the stirrings of those safe and sound, so she felt at ease enough to walk the short distance to her room. If she was prepared for anything, it was the labels that had driven her out, but it wasn’t the door that had caught her attention this time. Right beneath her door, in dusty, smudged chalk was an unmistakable X. As the multitude of implication hit her, Wren stopped dead in her tracks unable to shift her gaze or even move. She could feel her heart rate skyrocket and panic grip her as she tried to decipher the meaning. Who was the X from and why her room? Why already when she had been tormented by accusations she’d struggled with herself.
Perhaps if she had woken up to the X, like she had the labels, Wren would have broken again but this time her anger stayed and rather than run, she got down and rubbed out as much of the white X as she could. Fuck whoever was doing this, it was the last straw for a woman who had too much to deal with emotionally. The dusty surface of the concrete beneath her door was a testament to her ability to stand up for herself, to be her own damn hero. No one was going to hurt Wren again and had she not agreed to stay another night with Rae, she would have dismissed Philip and stayed.
Later, Wren would realize that going back to her room while people were still being murdered probably wouldn’t have been the best idea. She would concede to the fact that moving rooms, was probably the best plan and even considered one closer to the infirmary. Until then though, she smouldered as she grabbed clothes and a few personal items before shoving them into a bag. She took one last moment to rub the chalk from under her door, glaring at it and stalking off.
Wren was still seething when she reached Philip and rather than comment on it, he left the small doctor to herself. She appreciated that, even in her anger. By the time they reached Rae’s, her outrage had ebbed and was almost gone. Very rarely did Wren get angry, but when she did, it didn’t last long. The two parted, a little apologetically and appreciatively on Wren’s part.
The X weighed heavily on Wren but she had decided on her walk, that she wouldn’t let it affect her and that it wasn’t going to scare or intimidate her. She wasn’t helpless and although she appreciated the comfort brought to her by those who had stepped up, Wren needed to know that she was still able to save herself. She needed to know that no matter what, she’d be able to keep herself alive, like she always had.