Chapter 5: Purple Collared Uniform
A sharp, loud, siren sound echoed through the whole building, shattering the silence.
I jolted awake, my body tensing out of pure habit, expecting a kick to the ribs or a bucket of cold water thrown over my head. But nothing came.
Instead, I was greeted by silence.
The air in the room was warm, the bed beneath me still impossibly soft. My fingers curled into the sheets, feeling the unfamiliar comfort. I had slept. Really slept. Probably for the first time in five years.
I stretched my aching limbs, wincing at the lingering soreness from my beating. But it was duller now, numbed by rest and warmth. I had no idea what time it was, but if the loud siren meant anything, it was probably morning.
I sat up slowly, my eyes scanning the room once again. It still felt surreal. The dresser, the lamp, the empty tray from the food I finished before I had slept off.
And—my eyes landed on the uniform neatly folded on the table now
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, ignoring the faint protest of my body. A small door in the corner caught my attention, and when I pushed it open, I found a bathroom. A real bathroom.
Everything I needed was already inside—towels, soap, even a toothbrush. I hesitated for only a second before turning on the shower.
Warm water cascaded down my body, washing away the dried blood and dirt that clung to me. I watched as the water ran red at my feet.
Five years. Five years of filth. Of grime. Of pain.
I scrubbed my skin raw.