By month two Kidman had an answer, as far as she was concerned. Even though Vic no longer showed up to watch her, she still felt that others were, and though she accused herself of paranoia, she was quite sure the trainers were coming down on her harder than anyone else.
'I'm being built up for something. I know I am. Why build up a grunt, then? Because they are expendable, yes? I was a leftover on the edge. I was already gone. I never was if records are to be taken literally. I have no real skill-'
'Except the one-'
'and no one will miss me. I'm to be sacrificed.'
The thought alternately scared and comforted her. She wasn't sure herself what she meant by 'sacrifice' and even if she did have the nerve to ask Carmen, she wasn't there.
'Not that she'd say.'
Kidman picked another lock with ease. She would have to try something harder but again she delayed, and again her soul chastised her for it.
'If you're so sure Carmen is going to 'sacrifice' you, why are you still here?'
She had little experience with the woman herself, but she knew of her, what she symbolized to her. Carmen was an outpost in the black and white world the girl felt trapped in. Someone wonderful. She was physically attractive, yes, but the girl was more or less blind to that. No, Carmen was a force, a nature, a miraculous collection of traits that should not be able to coexist with each other as they did. A beautiful machine that made beautiful tears in the flat wall of life. The black band of the underside's dark nature lay tight against that heart to be sure, and there was little standing between it. All assumed Carmen was strong enough to withstand anything. It would be a lovely fantasy, but she was human, and therefore fragile.
Such a soul... needed to exist, needed to be tended, protected. Must be. Deserved to be.
Kidman put her lock down with an air of conviction.
There was research she needed to do.
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