Imogen watched them walk away from the tent with a sense of happiness and sorrow tear at her heart. They had what she had longed for the first day she was made into a fairy tale: Freedom. Freedom from the pain, freedom from the hurt, freedom from this hell hole of a prison. A feeling that was slipping out of her grasp as easily as the water surrounding her. All she could do now was hope for a quick end. She closed her eyes to shut out the depressing thoughts and missed seeing Sheanne look back at her. Imogen tightened her grip on the crude knife, as if it was the only tangible thing left on the planet. She would kill herself if she had to, of that she was certain.