Do you give us permission to use your posts ( individual full posts or as a segment) on social media for BD?<br/>Yes.<br/><br/>If you answered yes how / where would you like to be credited?<br/>Username on BD: Deviant<br/><br/>--------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>"Keep moving!"<br/><br/>The command was a harsh whisper in the starless night, and not for the first time in the last few hours, Rebecca swallowed hard, shoving her fear down to a place where she could - at least for now - control it. The redhead was surrounded by darkness, the only sound - aside from Amber's whispered directives - coming from the swirl and slosh of water as Becca displaced it. Each step was a struggle when three feet of stagnant water was concerned, and though a stray rock beneath the water caused her to hiss in pain when she stubbed her toe on it, Rebecca pressed on until the darkness began to abate.<i>There. </i>She could see it now: the light at the end.<br/><br/>The bottom of the pipe began to incline upward, bringing them both out of the brackish water for a few steps - but there were<i>bars. </i>Of<i>course</i>they had barred this exit too. Neither Becca nor Amber had planned for this.<br/><br/>"No. Fucking--<i>no!"</i>Amber's voice cracked as she cursed, testing the bars' strength with a rattle. But it was Becca who saw it - the crack in the pipe itself as it arched over them. A single star peered through the gap at her, lighting her way, and she followed it in true Becca form: without warning Amber. The heavy stone that had caught her toe earlier would do the trick here, she reckoned to herself, hefting its weight.<i> Swing, two, three!</i>and the redhead released the rock, hurling it upward and into the weakened ceiling behind them.<br/><br/>"What the--!!"<br/>Amber must've cursed again, but it was lost in the tumble of stone and cement as the ceiling caved in from a starry sky. They could even see the tops of the trees through the gap. Without a word, Rebecca Delaroche began climbing to her freedom, using the piled rubble as enough of a starter for her to reach up, grasp the edge of the pipe, and - with some small help from Amber, who continue to complain about how they both could've died - she breathed her first taste of fresh air for a decade.<br/><br/>It was then that she first heard it: a lilting strain of music on the breeze, so ethereal and soft that Becca dismissed it as her own imaginings. People heard and saw crazier things than a little music after being cooped up for so long, and it was with that small piece of comfort that she reached in and helped Amber escape their escape route - Amber, who was already speaking again. "We should keep moving! They'll figure it out as soon as they realize we aren't there. Still can't believe I let you talk me into this, Becca - and don't you say, "oh, it'll be fiiine, Amber," because you<i>always</i>say that, and---"<br/><br/>"And it always turns out fine," Becca finally stated, her soft tone silencing Amber's complaints. "If you want to go back to prison, you know the way," she gestured to the over-sized sewage pipe, "But I'm done." Amber wilted. It was obvious that she was scared, and she had decent reason to be. If they were found... Becca sighed, sliding cautiously over the edge of the sewage pipe until she dropped and landed with a soft, leaf-crunching thud. Her boots were standard prison issue, and she was dressed in a dark, wine-red jumpsuit, one that blended better into the forest at night than Amber's hazard orange one. Becca's hair, ginger and gold in the moonlight, was pulled back into a practical ponytail, and she tightened it now as she looked around the clearing. That music, again... maybe it meant a house? Somewhere she might change into regular civilian wear, anyway.<br/><br/>When she glanced back toward the pipe, Amber was gone. Whether she'd headed back to their starting point or headed elsewhere into the night, Becca couldn't tell, but this was as far as they'd agreed to go together, either way. The redhead didn't linger, setting off into the forested nightscape and searching for the song that could be her salvation. The sound of it grew stronger as the escapee made her way through the thickening trees, and just when she was certain she should be seeing a house, lights -<i>anything </i>other than this wretched, thickening darkness that seemed to press in on all sides - Becca found a small clearing. ....And... mushrooms.<br/><br/>Stupid, Becca. Stupid. She could clearly hear the music, but she could also very clearly see that there was nothing here. Nothing except more forest and a bunch of ugly red mushrooms. She really<i>was </i>losing it. All this effort - all this time - only to find out she had actually lost her mind. The insanity defense that hadn't worked for her ten years ago seemed to be doing its damnedest to claim Becca now. Her features were already a bit harsh, though perhaps that was ten years of prison time doing the talking: an array of high cheekbones, a long, aquiline nose, and soft lips that could purse tighter than the warden's budget.  Her demeanor might've been non-compliant before, but now, smeared with grime and twisted with anger, Becca's face was positively tempestuous. A standard-issue boot lifted from the ground. These musical mushrooms had sung their last.<br/><br/>But when Becca brought her boot down, intending to crush at least a few of the red-capped fungi, the world upended itself. A rush of wind, a swirl of leaves, and suddenly the redhead was losing her balance. Becca toppled forward onto her hands and knees just as the breeze around her died down, laying maple leaves in a messy array about her kneeling form. A sigh escaped her, and after a moment of internal seething, the young woman finally looked up.<br/><br/>"...No." Ocean-blue eyes flashed from one side of the stone cathedral to another, widening slowly. "...Noooo no no. This can't be right." Other people were here, too, but Becca was used to thinking of herself these days - and what did they matter anyway, if they were just figments of her shattered psyche? She closed her eyes again. Did everything her psychiatrist had told her about self-managing. Deep breaths. A count.<i> Focus on your hands, connect with your body</i>.  ...But when she opened her eyes, everything was still the same. Strange tree, strange lights, strange people.<br/><br/>To anyone else in the mysterious cathedral, she was just a redheaded young woman with a stained, burgundy jumpsuit who had appeared just as anyone else - though later than some, and with an unpleasant, musty odor - but the inner turmoil was real, just barely visible in the whites of her eyes.<br/><br/>Immediately, Becca was moving from door to door, trying each of them in turn with a firm and increasingly desperate rattle, but none of them so much as budged. She turned, leaning back on the last one she'd tried so that she could survey her surroundings a little better, still breathing a bit hard from her exertions. "....<i>Fuck!</i>" she breathed the word, undoing her ponytail and running anxious, trembling hands through her hair to loosen it some.