Cleo

The Runaway House smelt horrible. Occasionally you heard someone cough or sneeze, and most often someone was crying. From the cell labelled ‘B150’ you could only see one to either side of the cell opposite and nothing further. The faces belonging to the voices of the other girls were left to imagination and Cleo could only imagine how many different stories could be told by the girls in these cells. She spent an entire day in her cell; 24 hours passed before she saw the Master again. In those 24 hours little was learned. While the girls on the edges of Cleo’s sight slept, the tiny, dark haired one across from her would not leave the protection of Cleo, squeezing as close to her bars as she could. They brought eachother comfort in the dark room, listening as other girls shifted in their sleep and moaned in their nightmares. The little girl refused to tell Cleo her name and Cleo never told her hers, partially due to the fact that she could not remember it. Every now and then it would come to her, but only the first letter and she would pause and think about all the different names she knew that began with a C. She spent a few hours thinking her name was Cecile, and once hoped that it was Cory…only with an H...Chory. She liked the sound of Chory. She named the small girl she was talking to Ellie, because she reminded her of someone she once knew named that. She didn’t think about it too much because it hurt her to think of who Ellie was and she eventually gave up. Ultimately she gave up on names and resided into the fact that she would never be able to name all the girls there, and would never remember them if she could name all of them anyway. Whenever anybody coughed, however, she silently scorned Jessica for making so much noise. And Amanda kept reaching her hand through the bars from the cell beside Cleo, fingertips grazing the cement wall in between them. But she never talked to either of them. She only talked to Ellie. They didn’t talk about anything that was important in the grand scheme of things. They only talked about little stuff. But it was entertaining to talk about little things. Cleo didn’t even realize how much time had passed until the girls awoke and the Master came down the aisle of cells again. He did not go for Cleo, though. She stared at his back as he leaned down and talked to Ellie.
“This is quite an exciting day. Oh, F-142, it seems that your stay here has reached its end.” Then a man in a long black trench coat and tie walked slowly behind the Master and looked Ellie up and down multiple times. She kept looking between the men’s legs to Cleo, who could only see a sliver of her. The man in the trench coat grinned and placed his hand on the Master’s back. He only said two words: “She’s perfect.” The two men then stepped away to grab the keys to her cell and in the few moments they were gone Cleo tried to calm the girl down with only her eyes. The young girl shook with fright and clenched the bars, staring deep into Cleo’s eyes. Her mouth quivered and her voice shook, but she spoke with hard-hitting clarity.
“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, Nothing is going to get better. It's not.”
Everything was learned in those few moments.
The men then returned and Ellie scampered away from the bars into the farthest corner of her cell. Cleo clung to her bars and watched as her door was opened and the Master tried to go in to grab her. She ran under him and out of her cage and had a heartbeat’s length feeling of freedom and hope before the man in the trench coat grabbed her by the arms, stopping her in her tracks. He looked down into her face, feet below his, and grinned again. Ellie started crying more than she probably ever had and screamed as the man carried her away, reaching out one hand for Cleo. Cleo reached out for the little black haired girl as she was carried away, hand wide open ready to accept the girl’s at any moment. The man turned and gave a salute to the Master as he left and Cleo caught her last glimpse of the girl known as F-142 before she disappeared forever.
She was never seen again.
The Master then turned to Cleo, still in her cage, arm out stretched, and grinned like a madman. She slunk her arm back into her cell, sobbing.
“This really is an exciting day. As it turns out, I was right. You have also found a buyer. Your stay is probably the shortest on record. Weasel and Buff will be back in the morning to pick you up and drop you off at your new home. I wish you all the best. Good night.” The Master then left, and Cleo was sobbing harder than before, sunk to the bottom of her cell as the small blonde girl who had been to the left of Ellie watched with empathy.