My scratches on the wall indelibly marked the truth as day three came and went. Magnus's protection was ended and he had not returned. As prepared as I'd been for this reality I couldn't help the mix of disappointment and fear that filled me the morning I etched the line to indicate my fourth day behind bars.

    The cell I occupied was frigid, but aside from a grimy threadbare blanket, I had nothing to warm myself. The clothing I wore was filthy now and I hadn't bathed since Magnus and I refreshed ourselves in a small stream we'd found in the woods. The odor of my own body was noxious as was the smell of the food they offered twice a day, but after a week, I realized I barely noticed anymore, gradually growing accustomed to the ambient stench.

    Though I continued to force myself to eat the rations my captor's offered, they didn't offer much. My stomach was in a constant state of nausia and hunger in equal measure and I could feel myself losing a bit more strength every day. Of course I knew it was not just the lack of food that wore down my body.

    Though the first week of my captivity passed without any contact with my captors aside from food delivary, the screams and crying I heard in the near distance made it clear that others were not so lucky. The background of torture surrounding frayed my nerves, making me jump whenever I heard the sound of steps approaching my cell, my body tensed in fear each time as I waited to see if my moment of reconning had finally come.

    To keep myself from succumbing to fatigue, malnutrition, and cold, I spent most of my time curled in a ball on the hard concrete floor, blanket wrapped around my body, trying to hold in as much heat as possible. The chains didn't help. With metal encasing my neck and ankels it was not only difficult to find comfort, but also to keep the chills at bay. Only sleep offered any relief, but it was often interrupted by the sound of particularly loud screams. I wondered if my captors timed their torture to ensure it was so. That none of their prisoners would ever find true rest.

    It was ten days after my initial incarceration that armed guards finally appeared at my cell door and ordered me on my feet. My frayed nerves and exhaustion were so intense I was almost grateful for the break in the monotonous, passive, torture that my life had become. I stood without compliant and followed my armed captors' orders, keeping my head down, my bound hands lowered. I had no intent of offering resistance.

    As they lead me down the mazelike halls of concrete, the sound of screams grew louder. Every old scar on my body tingled in warning. The time had come for me to answer to my crimes. I couldn't even deny my guilt. With nothing to do in my cell I had spent the majority of my waking hours obsessing over the deaths wieghing on me, both sibla and human. I deserved to face punishment for my actions. Now I would. Perhpas in answering my crimes in suffering, my soul would be cleansed and I could finally join my loved ones.

    "In here, human"

    The command was followed by a heavy hand pushing against my back and I stumbled through an open door.

    I tried to calm my racing heart as I regained my barring, taking in the bare space. Dark stains littered the walls and floor, an assortment of chains and hooks hung from the cieling. Looking to the center of the room I saw a drain, the circle around it tinted a brownish-red. This was a room of torture. Of slaughter. I fought the urge to retch.

    "Bring in the others"

    My panicking mind snapped back to attention, focusing on the large metal door as it opened wide with a cringe-worthy screech and two figures were forced through before it closed with a thud.

    Though the two prisoners had burlap sacks over their heads, it was clear they were human. Their small stature and the tanned skin of their hands and exposed legs revealing their species. I felt my breath held in anticipation, lungs screaming for air and heart thudding uncomfortably in my chest as I waited to see the identiy of my fellow prisoners. But nothing could have prepared me for the face the appread when they removed the bag from the first captive's head.

    The woman's face was drawn, baggs under her eyes, blond locks clumped into a tangled bird's nest atop her head, skin streaked with dirt and dried blood around her nose and mouth. I'd never seen Hattie without every hair in place, clean and presentable. Now she was fully broken.
   
I bit my lip, trying to hold back the scream of frustration threatening to burst free. I'd done this to her. She trusted me and I brought her only pain. As I watched her deadened eyes blink into focus and scan the room I felt guilt nearly bring me to my knees as her gaze met mine. But though I expected to see hatred and anger, dreaded she might point her finger at me in accusation for her plight, instead I could read nothing in her expression but defeat.

    "Number 3756," one of the guards said, addressing Hatie by her branded number instead of a name, "You have confessed culpability in the death of Cerdrick Dulane, your lawful owner."
    Hattie didn't answer, her eyes focused on the floor. I could guess easily enough why they had brought her to my interrogation. She had almost certainly named me as an instigator of the revolt. And why wouldn't she have done so? What obligation did she have to protect me? I hadn't managed to protect her. I hadn't managed to protect any of them.

    "You have further stated that one human known as "Alice" had a part in organizing the revolt that lead to the demise of the Dulane estate. Is this creature before you, number 2773, that same human?"

    Still Hattie didn't respond. I watched her gaze raise slightly to meet mine again. She didn't want to betray me. I knew she would have no choice.

    "Answer!" the guard demanded. Another sibla grabed Hattie's neck, forcing her to raise her head and her interogator slaped her hard across the face.

    Tears streamed down Hattie's cheeks, mixing with the fresh red blood leaking from her nose. She shook her head.

    "I don't know," she whimpered. "I don't know anything. Please belive me."

    "Filth," the gaurd spat. "Know that your suffering will not end until we are given the truth."

    Hattie only closed her eyes and sobbed harder.
    My heart ached for the woman. She did not deserve this pain. I was the one who had inspired them to rebel. I was the one who should face the consequences of those actions. But my mouth felt dry. My lips refusing to open. Could I force myself to drop any pretense of innocence? Face my punishment with bravery as I knew I should?

    "And what of you, number 1625?" Another guard said, stalking over to the still masked figure.

    My stomach dropped. I knew that number. I had seen it, seared on the arm that held so many infants with care. That had rocked my own daughter to sleep when I was too tired to do so.

    With the bag removed, I still had trouble recognizing the face. Her nose had been broken and one eye was entierly swollen shut, giving her an odd lumpy appearance, as if she wore some manner of misshapen mask. But the one good eye met mine with the same intensity she'd always possesed. I sucked in a deep breath of shock. I felt the sibla gaurds turn their focus to me instantly at the audible sound.

    "So you know this human do you?" one of the sibla said, the intensity of his gaze enough to feel physically assaulting.

    "Of course the traitor knows me."

    My eyes opened wide as Dreda spoke out before I could manage to answer. Her voice was raspy and tired, muffled by a swollen lip, but the accusation seemed to give it strength.

    "I've already told you fools that I was the one who orchestrated the attack on my Master's estate. No other will take the credit for my triumph."

    "Triumph?" the guard beside Dreda snarled. "You mean the coldblooded murder of sixty sibla men women and children? Some of our best perished trying to stop your horror!"

    A cruel smile formed on Dreda's face, the misshapen features making the expression all the more monstrous. Never before had I seen such malice in Dreda's eyes.

    Whap

    I winced as the guard's hand struck Dreda so hard she fell to the ground with a hard thud and a clattering of chains.

    "Get up!"

    Tears welling in my eyes I watched as Dreda slowly pushed her upper body from the ground to a seated position. Red dripped from her already broken nose, streaking her lips and chin like war paint but her smile was remarkably unchanged.

    "I said, on your feet!" the gaurd snarled, grabbing Dreda by the front of her neck, his large gray hand choking the air from her body.

    The old woman's eyes bulged as he lifted her from the ground, her bound hands grasping uselessly at the hold around her throat, choking gasps of agony filling my ears along with Hattie's continued sobs.

    "Please! Please stop!"

    The words flew from my lips in desperation and all eyes turned to me as silence descended in the frozen aftermath of my cries. Dreda, now set on her feet, clutched at her throat, recovering her breath, Hattie's sniffling growing muted as she too looked to me with wide-eyed fear.

    "Care about this one do you, number 2773?"

    My mouth opened and then closed again without sound. I could think of no answer that would not implicate me in horrific crimes. And I should be forced to answer for them. I knew that. Yet my tongue could not easily find the words to willingly condemn myself to even more pain.

    "I already answered the question," Dreda said, her voice hoarse. I watched in horror as she coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood, her gaze trained upon me with true hatred.

    "That one betrayed us all and now she pretends to feel guilt? Ha!"

    The words hit me like a solid fist. She was right. I had betrayed them. I'd run. I'd chosen to save a sibla man when I could have helped my own.

    "We are the ones asking questions," the guard snapped at her. I cringed as he punched Dreda hard in the gut and she doubled over in pain. "You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not interfere with our interrogation."

    I closed my eyes tight unable to witness the horror I myself had caused. This was all my fault. Soon the agony would be mine to bear. I would confess everything. The plans, the stabbing. I'd nearly opened my mouth to do so when Dreda's voice rang out again.

    "Always thought she was one 'born to survive."

    The scornful words brought me from my self-flagellation, eyes again glued to my suffering friend. Dreda spit another red-tinged ball of spit and her gaze locked with mine. She'd uttered that same phrase to me in the nursery. It was not condemnation but a message. Even now. Even as they beat her mercilessly for crimes she hadn't truly committed. For crimes I incited, she was still trying to protect me. But I only shook my head, tears slipping down my cheeks. It was too much. There would be no miracle to save me this time.

    "You made promises, Alice," she hissed in response. "I do not forget them. Nor should you."

    Promises. I had promised her I would fight to live. But how could she possibly belive I still might escape with my life!

    "And what promises did she make human?" one of the guards demanded.

    Dreda righted herself, a look of satisfaction on her face to once again have gained their attention.

    "In the day before our attack, Alice heard whispers that the rest of the estate planned to revolt. When I found out of this potential danger I confronted the greyskin and swore I would gut her myself were she to betray her fellow humans in any way. She broke that promise already the least she could do is let me take full credit for the rebellion. She knows well it is mine."

    I had no answer to her charge. These elaborate lies spun to protect me from all culpability.

    "This one here claims that the one known as Alice was armed at the time of the revolt," The guard beside Hattie said, grabbing the collar of her dress and shaking her violently. My stomach dropped.

    "Tell them what you told me, girl!" he shouted as Hattie cringed, tears dripping down her cheeks.

    "I never meant to do anything wrong," she sobbed. "I just didn't want to die."

    "Get on with it," the man said, releasing his hold and giving Hattie a merciless glare.

    "I offered Alice a kitchen knife. For defense," she added self-consciously. "I didn't know what they were going to do. Please believe me!"

    And like that, I felt as if the ground had dropped out benieth me. Salvation was a fantasy. They knew I'd had a weapon. That I had been a part of ending my Master.

    "Foolish child!"

    Dreda's voice again called me from despair though I couldn't imagine anything she would say could save either of us now. Her anger at the former kitchen head for her betrayal wouldn't change reality. And I could hardly blame Hattie for trying to mitigate her own suffering.

    "Hattie is smart," one of the guards said, a smug smile on his face. "She knows that if she cooperates this will all be over soon." But Dreda only scowled at the man in response, pure fury painted across her features.

    "You should end her now for how little she knows," Dreda shot back. "I never told any who I was working with. Certainly not one as weak as Hattie. But that idiot gave a weapon to one of our enemies. Alice was never one of us. She manipulated an ignorant girl into offering her a knife!"

    The old woman turned her rage towards me next, her conviction to the lie so strong that even I cowered from her wrath, my body instinctively responding to her anger.

    "You took that knife to defend yourself didn't you, Alice!" she pressed. "You used it to escape and spare your precious new sibla master."
   
At her words I felt the blood drain from my body and my legs turn to jelly. Dreda only laughed.

    "Didn't think we knew?" she mocked.

"Everyone knows, Alice. They know you were found with a sibla man. That he claims you protected him. That he would rescue you now for that loyalty. The only ones who might be surprised are those who never truly knew you. A greyskin through and through."

    "Enough!" one of the sibla men shouted. "Hattie, is what this old one says true?"

    The poor broken woman continued to sob, her head shaking back and forth as if in rejection of the whole world. My heart ached for her. She'd done nothing to deserve this. Nothing to justify this torture at the hands of both the sibla and Dreda. It was clear her very soul was frayed, so close to cracking and here Dreda was attacking her, making her question everything she ever knew.

    "I don't know," Hattie gasped in pained, breathless, denial. "I told you everything I could. Please!"

    "Humph" the guard next to her snorted. "She is useless."

    My eyes opened wide in horror as he drew a pistol from his hip and put the muzzle to Hattie's temple, pulling the triger without hesitation .
   
I watched the body fall to the ground as if in slow motion, hearing the resounding bang, seeing the skull crack as the smell of burning and blood flooded my senses. Red pooled around her lifeless corpse, flowing towards the drain in the center of the sloped floor. But looking to Dreda, there was not an ounce of emotion on her face. Entierly calm, even with the knowledge that we would almost certainly be next to take a bullet. And that was if we were lucky. No doubt these men had something far more sinister planned for those they believed were truly culpable for the destruction we'd wrought.

    "Now then," the guard next to Dreda said. "Let's stop this charade shall we? It is your claim that this human had no part in your rebellion?" The man pointed directly at me and I closed my eyes in anticipation. Of course they hadn't been deceived by Dreda's tricks. How could they be? No doubt many other's had already given my name as a co-conspirator.

    "I suppose you are hard of hearing?" Dreda's voice answered, her voice steady and sure. "I had only one ally in my planning. She went down in glorious battle, the blood of so many sibla on her hands. But that thing?" she said, casting a look of disgust in my direction, "I already told you what she is. The others might be willing to let her die for our cause, but I will not have a greyskin taking credit for my hard work!"

    From Dreda's words, it seemed Rebecca had indeed succeeded in orchestrating her own death and for that I was glad. The wild one had deserved to take control of her end, grasping freedom once again as she escaped servitude for good. There was at least that much of our plans that had gone as hoped. But Dreda's later comments ony filled me with more anquish. So many others had not been so lucky. They were being forced to answer for my crimes and she was willing to let them!

    The sibla interrogator scowled deeply but he did not strike Dreda this time for her insolence. Instead he stalked towards me, his expression deterined. A shiver traveled through my body as he grabbed my shoulder. I froze as still as a statue as he took hold of the zipper on my dress and yanked down roughly, exposing my bare skin. His hand pressed against my back as he pushed me forward and I fell to my knees.

    I cried out as the pain reverberated through my body at the impact, the skin of my knees scraping, the wrists aching in their bonds, my shame exposed.

    "These are not the scars of an obediant human," he snarled in accusation.

    It was true. The map of crisscrossed white lines upon my back, both old and new, made it clear I was not a human with any favor. One who had stepped out of line so many times. The truth of my guilt carved into my flesh. And yet from Dreda, I heard only a dismissive snort in response.

    "Dulane as a particularly nasty man," she said. "His overseers were even worse. One might think this one would have turned on her owners for their petty abuses, but her mind was lost to the sibla long ago. Any forced to work so closely with our masters as that one, wear the scars of it. Only the truly gray of skin derive pleasure from the abuse. Continue to serve loyalty in spite of it."

    Dreda glared at me, her scowl still so convincing I felt myself wanting to run from her as much as I did from my captors. There was no need to pretend in my distress at her words, every ounce of me cried out in desperation and shame. I had abandoned my own. And for what? To spare a sibla? One just like all those who had struck and beaten me since I was a child. One who made his living off the flesh of my kind. One who had abandoned me in spite of my aide.

    "Your back remains remarkably free of the whip," the guard shot back in response to Dreda's fallacious claims.

    "I am smarter than most," she answered without a beat. "How else do you think I managed to survive so long?"

    An undeniable truth. Even now her remarkable ability to manipulate was making me question my own sanity. The irony wasn't lost on me. She was brazenly telling their captors why her words meant nothing. She was an expert liar. Far more skilled than I had ever fully realized. Now she was using her last moments on earth to give me a chance at survival, offering the skill that had saved her so many times in the past to save me instead.

    However impossible it might be that these men would let me go, Dreda was offering absolution from any culpability in the rebellion. Giving me every possible opportunity to escape while she took on all of my punishment. The thought made me ill. I'd never deserved her love or loyalty. Never fully expressed the gratitude I should have for protecting me my entire life. I had spent years acting like a petulant child, resentful of Dreda when I should have been on my knees thanking her every day.

    "Quite a mouth on you," the guard shot back. I cringed as he reached out and grabbed a fistful of Deda's greying locks in his hand. "I will be pleased to take that tounge of yours when we are through with you, human. But not before we finish extracting every ounce of information from your lips. Releasing her suddenly the man threw Dreda to the ground where she landed roughly on her side, her body colliding with Hattie's corpse.

    "Get up!" he snarled.

    Dreda was not chastened by his threatening tone. I watched her manage to rise with remarkable ease considering the chains, her age, the blood, both Hattie's and her own, smeared upon her hands and face. Only one thing fueled her now. I knew instincivly that it was her drive to protect me.

    I was awed by her strength. The woman forged in the crucible of over fifty years in service to the sibla. The creature who had survived death after death of those she loved. Who had made herself an invauable slave to her masters and yet managed to serve her fellow humans without cease. Now she stood at the moment of her demise and laughed in the face of death. Taunted those who would surely take her life. She used the last of her energy to once again protect others. It was who she was.

    "Beat me as you will," she said, "You will never force anything from me that I do not wish to give." The words came forth with unimaginable determination and power. "My soul will fly to the heavens before I retract a single word I have spoken. I will take the blame for all I have done. No other shall ever take my glory."

    The guard's hand came up again, this time armed with a wooden baton.

    Crack

    The sound of wood meeting bone filled my ears as Dreda fell to the ground unconscious.

    "Get that filth out of here," the guard said. "Make sure she is tended to. Not finished with her yet."

    Tears streamed down my cheeks as I stared at Dreda's unmoving figure. Breath still inflated her chest in steady rhythm. Death would not come for her so easily and that knowlage broke my spirit in a way I never thought possible. So much pain. So much suffering. I had caused it all.

    "Take the corpse to the incinerator and the other human back to her cell. That's enough for today."

    My body felt nearly weightless as the hands took hold of my arms, dragging me from the room of torture even as I tried to hold onto Dreda's image for as long as possible. She was sacrificing everything for me and it would be futile. I was numb with the realization of both things simultaniously. All I had done would, in the end, bring nothing but more suffering on my loved ones.

    The gaurds dumped me back in my prison and soon I was encased again in the monotounous nothing that was my captive existance. I curled into myself and closed my eyes. And in that misserable ball I prayed. Harder than I had ever before prayed. I prayed for death to release Dreda. Release any of my allies still held captive by the sibla. And as traitorous as it was to my truest friend, I prayed for death to take me as well.
——
So yeah, Alice is in a rough place. POOR DREDA! That woman deserves her own story tbh (i might write a short story at least for her cause damn she is strong as heck & I want to know her story too! Hehe). Seems the humans of the Dulane estate didn't fair so well. Magnus never knew the extent of the suffering Alice faced. Not from Dulane and not from the authorities. Rachel def never had any idea. Hope this story is giving a bit more of an understanding of how the Alice of AH came to be. She was truly damaged before she found safety in Magnus's care.