Tonight

The girl didn't say much. Her poorly-kempt hair hung in red rat's tails over her face, and her eyes were wide and haunted. She gave an impression of intensity. A sharp, cold bite of flint in the centre of a shy and shuffling cloud.

In spite of this, or maybe because of it, Sandy liked her. She was easy to be around. Anyway, she didn't have to say much. She had a way of leaning forward, or touching Sandy's arm, or just looking... In short, a whole host of ways to convey what she wanted. Maybe the main reason Sandy liked her was an unshakeable feeling that the kid had her back.

Kid. It was weird to think of her that way, because she was of a height with Sandy. Stick-thin, with those big, expressive eyes, she gave off a sense of youthful vulnerability. A bundle of contradictions, but staunch in her own way.

They'd found a way of communicating in secret, by leaving little bits of paper on the sad and straggly tree in the common room. Sometimes there would be a word pencilled on it, in a shaky, childish hand. But Sandy gathered as much from the placement of it; which branch it was left on, what colour light it was near, and whether a nearby plastic bauble had been moved.

They were going to get out of here. Together. They'd figured out the best time of night, where the staff would be, and how to avoid the cameras. Sandy had convinced everyone she was harmless and resigned. She'd taken up smoking again, something she hadn't done since she was pregnant with Summer. Her ally had somehow stolen the code for the front door.

She hummed, browsing the sparse needles for the latest note, and when she found it right at the top, near the star, she smiled. Tonight.

Tonight it would be Louise doing the sleep-in upstairs, and Kerry on duty in the office. Perfect. Louise was more vigilant, while Kerry more likely to doze off in front of Netflix than do her hourly patrols. By the time Kerry woke Louise, Sandy hoped to be long gone. Her gut writhed with nerves.