Entry 1658: 

Date: August 21, 2061

It's been over a week since I got here, and despite being held prisoner, it has been the most normal week I've had in years; my hair and skin are clean, I have meals almost 3 times a day, and I sleep in an actual bed. I haven't even dreamed of these things since I was forced to leave the bunker. Even when I was inside, resources were preserved as much as possible. I'd be lucky to get half a can of food a day. 

I'm starting to think this isn't so bad. If I could convince her to take the damn chains off, maybe I could have a life here. I could help these people in the med bay or the kitchen; god knows they need help in the kitchen. 

When the woman comes back at night, all she does is stare at me, like she's studying me as if I'm the most fascinating thing she's ever laid her eyes on. Yet, it's hard to tell if that fascination comes with a growling belly or a peace offering. I can't help but feel like chopped liver every time her eyes scan me up and down with that calculated stare that bores into my soul. My own eyes can't resist the urge to try and bore into her as if I'll be able to uncover some of her secrets during these little staring contests. Yet, each time, I only notice the same thing I noticed when I first met her: She's strong, really strong, by far the strongest female I've ever seen. I've seen male raiders out scavenging before who carried the same kind of muscle, if not more. But on her, it looks different, better in some indescribable way. 

Over the days, I've tried to communicate several times. I'm not sure if she speaks English; the exposed have their own language that I can't even begin to comprehend. Each time I speak, it's met with a loud reply of silence and a stare that doesn't let me know she has even heard me. 

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A deep sigh left Wren as she placed her pen back on the spine of her journal. A soft clicking sound fell from her lips as she debated what else to write down. She hadn't seen her captor in a few days, and since she hadn't left this room, her entries had become short and dull. Instead, doodles filled the blank space at the bottom of the page. She never had much talent for art, but nowadays, there wasn't much else to fill the hours. 

The room had grown dark as the moon rose for the night. "Another day gone, still trapped in this damn room," She huffed to herself as she hid her journal away in her bag. Wren crawled into the small cot, moving her chains up onto the bed with her. The weight of the shackles had begun to leave deep, painful marks on her wrists. 

Wren laid there, staring at the concrete ceiling above her for hours. Her mind raced to find some way to escape. She had already tried to pick the locks on the chains. She spent the entire day banging the metal up against the wall in an attempt to break them off. The only thing it succeeded in was putting a large dent in the concrete and tortuously bruising her wrists. 

Just as Wren's eyes began to flutter closed, the heavy concrete door slammed open. She shot upright, heart hammering, as her eyes caught sight of her captor. A slow, trembling hand moved its way up to Wren's lips as her eyes trailed down the woman's body and took in the massive amount of blood that was oozing onto the floor. "Holy Shit!" Wren cursed, practically jumping off the bed. 

The woman stared at the small mole on her bed, a thick pant on her lips as she clutched her bleeding side. A large open wound stretched from the bottom of her rib cage to her lower stomach in three deep claw marks. She didn't mind the blood that spilled onto her sheets as she hobbled her way over the cot and grabbed a small box from inside the desk. She shoved the box into Wren's hands before collapsing onto the bed. With one hand, she tore off her blood-soaked rags and wiped away some of the blood.

"Wh-what the hell happened to you?!" Wren shouted as she shoved the little red box. She didn't know if she should help the woman or not; after all, she was her prisoner, but if she died right here on this bed, the odds of another person coming to check on her for a few days would be extremely low, and she didn't want to be chained up in a room with a corpse. "FUCK!" She fretted as he tore open the first aid kit in her hands. "Come on, Wren, you trained for this," She scolded herself, trying to think back on her job in the bunker. 

Wren stilled her shaking fingers with a deep, solid breath as she threaded the needle to prep for stitches. Yet, as she looked up and caught the woman's eyes, she paused. "Look, I don't know if you can understand me. But! If I help you, you have to take these off," She bargained, holding up the stitching and then her chains. "These. Off." She said again, repeating the motion. The larger woman just groaned in pain as she grabbed the chains and gave a firm, understanding nod. The pant on her lips showed just how much she couldn't refuse Wren’s offer.

With a satisfied huff, Wren disinfected and stitched the wound up. "Why the hell did you come back here? You should have gone to your medical bay! This place is huge; there is no way you guys don't have someone who does this!" Wren ranted as she helped the woman. In response, all she got was annoyed huffs. 

After a long process, Wren finally had the wound all stitched and properly dressed. The adrenaline that was pumping through her veins calmed, and her body finally let itself relax. For the first time tonight, her eyes really looked around, and she realized she was sitting on the shirtless woman's lap. A soft blush spread its way up her cheeks before she coughed and looked away; under different circumstances, that would have been a dangerous position. As Wren stood and began shoving the bloody clothing and sheets into the small trashcan, she felt her chains brush against the sores on her wrists. "Right, I saved your life; now your turn," Wren demanded as she shoved her wrists up to the nearly passed-out woman. The Exposed woman studied Wren for a moment before she grabbed Wren's forearm harshly. "Stay," the woman growled in a raspy, broken way; it was clear she didn't speak much English. "Off. Stay." She added, pointing to the chains and then the door, telling Wren that even though she was going to take off the chains, she wasn't allowed to leave. Wren glared at her, but it was a start. "Ok, I won't run," Wren huffed. For a brief moment, Wren considered booking it the second she felt the chains slip off her wrists and ankles, but even if her specific captor wasn't in a condition to catch her, the hundreds of Exposed outside her door didn't give Wren much of an option.