Ada was getting better at minding her, thank god. Bea no longer had to worry about her belongings on the rare occasions she let the dog stay outside her kennel unattended. It was one less thing Bea had to keep her mind on, considering the growing feeling in the pit of her stomach that things were going to go from bad to worse soon. Pessimistic yes, but she didn’t think it was unrealistic to be thinking that.
She couldn’t help it, not really. The signs were there. The suspicion was definitely there, and life just wasn’t fucking fair anymore, so why the hell wouldn’t it get worse?
With the pipes and the gates, it just felt like someone or a group of someone’s were screwing with them and Bea didn’t like it. This place was supposed to be fucking better than the safehouses and lately all they had to deal with was shitty situation after shitty situation. The murders, people leaving, and now all these new people that seemed to have something up their sleeve. If only they could catch the fuckers doing something; get some concrete evidence, then maybe life could settle back in again.
It was almost a relief to be away from things for a while, to be walking Ada and only thinking about what turn they should take next. Sometimes it sucked to be leadership, secondary or not. There was always that niggling in the back of her brain that she needed to make sure she was doing her part to keep things safe.
Not even the fucking whiteboard had kept her mind off that fact for long. But fresh air seemed to be doing the trick.
To say she was violently pulled out of her own thoughts would be an overstatement, but she was set on edge momentarily when an unfamiliar child’s voice referred to Ada, who was happily sniffing the grass to the side of the path.
It wasn’t uncommon to run into parents and children around the compound. Bea mostly shrugged it off and kept moving.
She couldn’t brush off when the woman addressed her though; there was just something too familiar about the voice and the way it was said. Like she should know who it was.
Realization hit her like a fucking freight train when she took the time to scrutinize the speaker. Vienna. It was her fucking sister. What the hell?
“Fuck,” she exhaled, stopped dead. It was like her brain couldn’t put the pieces together right. Vienna was dead, that’s what she’d assumed. That’s what she’d accepted; so how the fuck was she standing in front of her now with a puppy and a kid?