Sasha Richards
The young man's tone of voice both shocked and frightened Sasha. "Please...don't raise your voice. That won't achieve anything..." If he was this agitated now, what would he be like in the days or weeks or even months that followed. She could tell already. The confinement, the limitations. Slowly more and more of the group would start to lose control and lose their sanity. How long before one of them snaps? Sasha eyed the other curiously, momentarily forgetting about the addict as she spoke. Addict. That was a much better word than 'junkie'. More and more people slowly entered the large room until she wondered if there were any more to come in. Sasha caught the tail end of the woman's words and came to the realisation of why she was on the drugs. Then she got up and wandered off so Sasha resumed her wary watching of the others who were trapped here.
When the addict finally came and sat back next to her, Sasha felt her heart soften towards her. She gently took the crackers from her and pulled the little tear off flap and opened the top up. "Ow! Papercut..." she yelped, popping the injured finger into her mouth. Dammit. That did not help the thoughts going through her head. Although she had wondered when it was that the others would crack, she also wondered how long it would take her. She was already considering what she could use and it was only day one. Give her a week of this and Sasha would crumble like an old cookie.
Determined to distract herself, Sasha took a cracker and nibbled the corner. "What's your name?" she asked the woman next to her gently, sick of referring to her as 'the addict'. If there was one person that she felt she could trust, it was actually this woman. Oddly, it wasn't the quiet man or the rational young woman. It was the vulnerable addict, the one that needed the help and comfort.
The young man's tone of voice both shocked and frightened Sasha. "Please...don't raise your voice. That won't achieve anything..." If he was this agitated now, what would he be like in the days or weeks or even months that followed. She could tell already. The confinement, the limitations. Slowly more and more of the group would start to lose control and lose their sanity. How long before one of them snaps? Sasha eyed the other curiously, momentarily forgetting about the addict as she spoke. Addict. That was a much better word than 'junkie'. More and more people slowly entered the large room until she wondered if there were any more to come in. Sasha caught the tail end of the woman's words and came to the realisation of why she was on the drugs. Then she got up and wandered off so Sasha resumed her wary watching of the others who were trapped here.
When the addict finally came and sat back next to her, Sasha felt her heart soften towards her. She gently took the crackers from her and pulled the little tear off flap and opened the top up. "Ow! Papercut..." she yelped, popping the injured finger into her mouth. Dammit. That did not help the thoughts going through her head. Although she had wondered when it was that the others would crack, she also wondered how long it would take her. She was already considering what she could use and it was only day one. Give her a week of this and Sasha would crumble like an old cookie.
Determined to distract herself, Sasha took a cracker and nibbled the corner. "What's your name?" she asked the woman next to her gently, sick of referring to her as 'the addict'. If there was one person that she felt she could trust, it was actually this woman. Oddly, it wasn't the quiet man or the rational young woman. It was the vulnerable addict, the one that needed the help and comfort.