Echo

Dancing on glass

It's been about a week and a half of recovery. My wounds were sloppily taken care of but enough to where I wouldn't die. Regina however refused to give me any pain meds stating that it'd be a waste of medicine.

At least she let me shower and had my clothes washed. But i'm pretty sure that was for others sake not entirely mine.

I could tell the doctor they had sort of pitied me. I could also tell this isn't his first ride in the rodeo. He was ordered not to speak to me unless it was absolutely necessary so this knowledge is only based on his wrinkly facial expressions.

My hands were wrapped in gauze and medical tape, I could still feel the holes the nails left. The grip in my hands was practically futile. I could still hold stuff but it was excruciatingly painful and I couldn't close my hands all the way at all.

My wrists were rubbed raw since they "forgot" to take my cuffs off during the fight night.

Luckily by some miracle, the Arrow someone had shot at me fractured the bone but that was it.

I also had random scratches, bruises, and cuts all over. But Regina still believes it's time to get to work again.

This morning they made me mop the hallways of this ridiculously large building. Afterward a guard walked me outside where other prisoner looking people stabbed at walkers through small holes in the brick wall that were forcefully broken.

He handed me a wooden spear and told me to get to work as he stood back with the other guards watching us intently. There were buckets of blood to the side. I saw the people use a brush as if painting, the blood onto the opening to make the walkers appear.

The bucket reminded me of the cage and made me nauseous. I shook the thought out of my head and painfully gripped the spear with my fingertips and stabbed a walker through the gap with a wince.

"Hey," I heard from beside me. I looked over and saw a women about my age, she had a black eye and a fat lip, Blue eyes and long dirty blonde hair.

"Hey," I said lazily.

"I heard you put on quite a show the other day," she said as she stabbed a walker. I could see she was talking quiet and kept herself turned away from the guards so I turned away too. I'm pretty positive they don't want us talking.

"Looks like you did too..no offense." I stabbed another walker, my hands stinging.

She scoffed amused, "I guess so. I fight other people though... I heard you fought an armored walker in the dark. Pretty badass if you ask me." I guess she was right but In reality it was just messed up.

"You fight other people?" I asked curiously. I stabbed another walker and missed but pulled back and stabbed it again successfully. I shook my hand in pain but got back to work.

"Yeah the boss lady kind of decides what your best at. It so demonic that these drunk assholes watch us fight for our life and think it's fun."

"Seriously what is this place?" I asked with a disgusted look on my face.

"It's a mental asylum."

"What??"

She nodded unsatisfied, "Apparently the boss was here as a patient, she was the first to take over when the apocalypse hit. She supposedly killed all the sane people..or the people that worked here, the people she didnt have a need for."

"That..explains, so much."

She scoffed, "Yep."

"Uh where did they get this blood from?" I asked looking at the bloody paint brush as I painted it on the wall.