Beauty and the Fleet (Intergalactic Fairy Tales Book 2) by Robert McKay Page A

would come for hers. It hadn't been enough that he killed her father. He was going to break her mind and then erase all of her good memories once he'd had his fun.
    She wouldn't allow that to happen. He'd already taken enough from her. But there was nothing she could do about it. He would come and do as he pleased. She couldn't stop him from her cell. She had to get out. That had always been the plan, but it couldn't wait any longer. The longer she took, the more likely it would be that they would come for Torch or Pickle. She couldn't allow that.
    She wasn't some sort of thief or magician who could pick a lock with a shoestring, so the only way she was getting out was if they came to get her. How could she force them to do that? These animals didn't seem to care about anything.
    Her mind kept going back to the words the beast had said before he took Hands away. He said he didn't want her to die. He said he needed her and that he didn't want her to die. They were the words of a murdering monster, but it was all she had to go on. He wasn't on guard duty, so that probably meant he was in charge, or at least higher ranking. He should have the power to get her out of the cell.
    Beatrix sat on her bed, trying to find an alternative to the plan that was quickly taking shape in her head. If any one of a dozen suppositions on her part were wrong, she would die. Those weren't good odds. But if she was right, and they got to her in time, then she would have a decent amount of time outside of her cell. She would probably end up in a hospital somewhere, but at least it was on the right side of the bars.
    Beatrix closed her eyes and sighed. No alternate plan had presented itself. It was time to find a way to attempt suicide that wouldn't kill her before she was discovered.
    One of the guards interrupted her thoughts by sliding another tray of food under the bars of her cell. Unless she wanted to try hanging, nothing in her cell would work. Her eyes turned to the small plastic water cup. It was the only thing they ever gave her that wasn't grey. Maybe she could make it work.
    She stared at the cup for a long time before approaching it. It grew massive in her vision until it was all she could see. It was only about the size of a tea cup, not much as far as weapons were concerned.
    With that thought, she was finally able to walk over and pick it up, her hands shaking slightly. The water was cool and satisfying on her tongue. She drank it down in a single gulp and squeezed the cup to confirm its properties. It wouldn't make much of a weapon, but it should be sturdy enough to part her flesh.
    Beatrix carefully snapped a small piece out of the cup and returned it to the tray. She walked back over to her bed, the sharp shard of plastic held before her. She was so focused on it that she banged her shin on the edge of the bed and fell onto it with a muttered curse. That would leave a nasty bruise. Hopefully she would be alive for that to matter.
    Time stretched into a yawning chasm while she situated herself on the bed, her back to the wall and her legs crossed. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you are about to die. Maybe that was only true while you were actively dying. All that flooded across her mind in the eternity it took to drag the pointed plastic across her wrists was the endless string of things she wanted to do once her revenge was complete. Now that she was staring death in the face, those things seemed a lot more important. Ending the lives of nameless, faceless Colarians in a war that didn't seem likely to end before she died of old age, not so much. Sure, fighting to preserve the Nedran way of life was important, but that's not what she was fighting for. Revenge meant fighting for something that was already gone, and felt like such a waste.
    She hadn't realized how much she wanted to live, until she was watching her blood pour out. If her gamble paid off, she would live her life very differently. No more depriving