It was dark and somewhat chilly in this place but imprisonment was never something that was meant to be pleasant. Those horrible and seemingly inhuman moans of the Hallowed were the only thing she has known for who knows how long and she eventually learned to just tune them out for the most part. Honestly she has lost count of the number of minutes, hours, days, maybe even years that she has been in here, rotting away, slowly losing herself like the rest of those damned to rot here for all eternity. In the distance she could see a ladder leading towards either salvation or more hell and always finds herself staring at it wondering if she would ever find out what was really up there. Anything was better than remaining here, though Ivonette could slowly feel herself becoming more and more oppressed as each moment passed. She was beginning to wonder if it was even possible to get out of here at all, or if she really would remain here forever.<br/><br/>Looking at the few Hallowed that lingered here, crying horrible cries or just staring absently at the wall as if in acceptance, a fate like that might be more and more inevitable. The dimly lighted hallway and this cell might be all she knows until she finally breaks and accepts her fate.<br/><br/>For a long time she herself sat with her head buried in her hands, thinking of whatever better days still remained within her thoughts. There were others around her as well though she was unsure how long they have been there; thankfully they had not become Hallow yet. Yet being the key word. She often wondered if they did the same things, had the same thoughts, wondering if escape was possible. The guards around here were intimidating to boot though they didnâ€™t usually speak to the prisoners or even looked at them for that matter from her experience. There would be no escaping with them patrolling the Asylum that much was certain. Whenever they were around she found herself just ignoring them, however this guard in particular was carrying a body when he entered the area. A â€˜new friendâ€™ as one of the men in the area announced. She didnâ€™t know anyoneâ€™s name, or if they did tell her she had forgotten or just didnâ€™t really care to remember. Her memory was not the greatest anyway, and from what little she recalled it has never been that great.<br/><br/>Silently, she watched as the other woman in their little group of cells reached over to the corpse and pulled off a set of keys. Ivonetteâ€™s eyes lit up with a faint glimmer of hope amongst her nearly emotionless countenance but it was quickly taken away as a few thoughts flooded her mind. Did this mean that it was not her time to escape? She wanted to get out of here so badly; perhaps they knew that and were taunting her by setting someone else free. There was a great amount of unsuppressed envy in the girlâ€™s eyes as she watched the other free herself. If she had it in her to make some remark, she would have done so right then and there without much hesitation. She wasnâ€™t sure, but she was sure she use to be a lot more talkative than this. However, the truth was that being in this place has left her broken in many different places the more she realizes she is slowly losing whatever sanity she still has left.<br/><br/>Ivonette dared to move away from the wall she sat against and closer to the old yet sturdy bars that stood in the way of her freedom, gripping them tightly as she watched in silence. The dim light of the fires in the hallway warmed her face slightly, revealing barely even half of her soft features. Envy was slowly turning to curiosity, wonder, intrigue. What was beyond the latter? Maybe it was a good thing that she was not free just yet; if something dangerous awaited them beyond the ladder then it was better someone else go than her, that way she would feel at least a little more confident. Assuming she still knew was confidence was, anyway. Once death swept her away, she became deprived of such things and has forgotten how to feel joy. Curious as she was, all of that envy and curiosity seemed to fade as quickly as it appeared.<br/><br/>Yet somehow that small sense of hope seemed to creep in again. Or was she really not allowed to feel such things anymore? She was dead after all so why should it matter what she felt; for all she knew her feelings could just be a lie. Wishful thinking when youâ€™re dead, is that a good sign? Maybe she was not as broken as she thought she was, knowing that she did not want to become Hallow.