(Chapter One)
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Lucy.
Her prison was pleasant enough, Lucy supposed. It wasn’t the prison itself that angered her, really, it was the fact that it was a prison at all. The crack in the pretty wooden door where she had punched it stood as testament to this. She’d been locked in the room all day, ever since she’d been thrown in it the previous night.
It was the … the injustice of it all that made it so bad. She hadn’t done anything wrong, had committed no crime.
Well, no crime that she could remember anyway. It was like … she had been doing something, and then suddenly she was somewhere else. That was how it felt. Only she couldn’t remember what it was she had been doing, and the somewhere else she suddenly was happened to be a forest. Also, she had been naked, which had complicated matters somewhat when the soldiers turned up.
She sat on the bed, staring at nothing in particular, drowning in an ocean of her own boredom. The predominate colour surrounding her was beige. The room had beige walls, and a beige carpet, and a beige ceiling. The now cracked door broke the colour scheme by daring to be white, as did the blind, which was black.
It was sunny outside, but only a fringe of the light got passed the drawn blind. She had the light switched on instead; the dull, artificial light appealed to her mood more than sunshine did.
She yawned. There was simply nothing to do. She’d have killed for a television, but the room was almost completely bare of any entertainment. There weren’t even any books or magazines to read. Admittedly a CD player sat on the desk next to her bed, but Lucy had tried a couple of the CDs and she’d recognised none of the songs, and she’d liked them even less.
This was, pretty much, hell.
Dull, dull, hell.
Sighing, she dropped her feet onto the carpet and stood up. She didn’t know what the time was - a clock was also on the list of things her captors had neglected to give her - but she’d been sat moping and raging on that bed all day. It was time she did something productive, and have another go at escaping.
She walked over to the door and gave the handle a little twist and push, just to see if its would open after all. Just like before, it didn’t. She kicked the door and turned away.
She’d tried the window last night and had failed to escape by it then. Pulling up the blind, and flinching as a beautiful, sunny day assaulted eyes, she examined it again. It wasn’t really just one window, it was actually six, each one too small for her to fit through. None of them opened anyway, and there wasn’t anything in the room for her to smash the glass with either.
The en-suite bathroom also offered no avenues for escape. It was a little thing, with a toilet, a washing bowl with soap, and that was it. It didn’t have a window in it, only a light bulb on the ceiling. She walked into the bathroom, saw there was still no way to escape her prison from within it, and walked out again.
She sat back down on the bed, out of ideas.
To add to the list of grievances Lucy was building up, the clothes she had been given were awful: a baggy, grey t-shirt and a baggy, grey pair of trousers. The soldiers had neglected to giver her any underwear, or even any socks or shoes. She was not sitting in comfort.
Still, when the clothes had first been given to her, she’d been beyond grateful.
When the three soldiers found her sitting dazed in the woods, she had been naked, and all too aware of it. One of them acted as if nothing was strange at all, one was polite enough to look away, and the third ogled her with a smirk.
The clothes hadn’t come yet, though.
She’d had to walk with the soldiers for a good twenty minutes, ineffectively doing her best to cover herself the entire way, before they arrived at an encampment of temporary homes. She was limping badly by that point, her bare feet complaining against this ruff treatment.
It was there that she was given her clothes.
Another soldier had approached them. One of the ones that found her began, ‘Major, we-’
The Major had held up his hand, and said, ‘Why is she naked, soldier?’
The three men shared an uneasy look. ‘That’s the way we found her,’ one said.
‘You idiots,’ the Major growled. ‘Why did none of you strip off and giver her your clothes? Eh? You should be the ones staggering around naked, not her.’ He glared at them all. ‘And look at her feet! How far did you drag her through that forest barefoot? Idiots.’ He waved a hand. ‘Go. You’re all dismissed.’
Her three escorts had walked off sullenly, whilst the Major pulled Lucy out of the open and into the privacy of the nearest building. There she had been given her new clothes and a few friendly words from the Major. Within minutes she had been packed into the back of a truck and driven down to a military base.
She had been out of the truck for little more than a minute before she had been shoved into her prison, where she had been ever since.
No one had told her what was going on, what had happened to her, or even if she had done anything wrong. Not even the Major had told her anything of importance. No one had visited her either. She wondered if they’d forgotten about her. The thought only made her angrier.
And no sooner had the thought passed through her mind, the door clicked. Lucy jumped, startled by the sudden sound after the long period of near silence. The handle turned and the door opened.
Dressed in a smart, black uniform, a man stepped into the room, dragging a plastic and metal chair behind him. Lucy hadn’t met this particular soldier yet. His eyes met hers, and she thought she could see some level of pity in them, although it was hard to say for certain though.
He had high cheekbones and hollow cheeks that - instead of making him look handsome - combined with his pale skin, thin lips, and dark, deep-set eyes to give him an almost skeletal look. He looked like some incarnation of Death, come to fetch Lucy and take her to the afterlife.
‘Hello, Miss Taylor,’ he said, as he placed the chair next to Lucy’s bed and sat down on it, taking off his Officer’s cap as he did so. ‘My name’s Lieutenant-Colonel Haart’ He placed his cap on the CD player next to the bed. ‘I hope you’ve been comfortable so far?’
Lucy eyed him warily, and leant away from him, pressing her back against the wall. She had already decided she didn’t like him. ‘Not really, no. I haven’t,’ she said.
‘Oh. Well, no, I suppose you wouldn’t have been. I’m sorry, it was a stupid question.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Lucy, ‘it was.’
The Lieutenant-Colonel frowned. ‘Is there anything in particular that could make your stay more comfortable?’
‘Yeah. Don’t make me stay. Let me go home.’
‘Miss Taylor, I’m sorry, I-’
‘Don’t start with that crap!’ she said. ‘Shut the hell up. You’re not sorry! So stop acting it. You lock me in here without telling me anything and now you’re here, with your empty, pointless words and apologises. Keep them! Keep your crap to yourself.
‘Please, just let me go home. That’s … that’s all I want.’
The Lieutenant-Colonel frowned. ‘I can’t do that, Miss Taylor. If I could, I would. But I can’t. As I said, I’m sorry.’
Lucy glared at him, and decided not to say anything. Let him talk about being sorry. She hoped he would chock on an apology one day. Let him talk himself to death.
When it became obvious to the Lieutenant-Colonel that Lucy wasn’t going to reply, he spoke again. ‘I don’t know if you’ll care, but my men have found another in the woods. A boy. He’s on his way here now. I’ve been told he put up a bit of a fight before they managed to subdue him.’ He leaned closer to Lucy. ‘Why didn’t you fight, Miss Taylor?’ His voice dripped with curiosity.
Why hadn’t she fought?
Why would she?
She had been lost, and alone, and scared. Sat in a forest she didn’t know, with no recollection of how she’d got there, naked and shivering, she had clutched at herself, and cried.
The soldiers had rescued her. Why would she fight them?
Lucy eyed him darkly, but didn’t answer.
The Lieutenant-Colonel sat back again. ‘Well, it’s not important, I suppose,’ he said, looking disappointed regardless. ‘Anyway, you’ll meet the boy when he arrives. His name is Leo Thornton. I don’t suppose you know him, do you?’
Again, Lucy didn’t reply, but the Lieutenant-Colonel read enough into the blank look that must have passed over her face. ‘No?’ he asked. ‘Never mind, that isn’t too important either.’
He looked at Lucy in silence for a few seconds, then sighed. ‘Look, Miss Taylor, you’ll be staying here with us for at least another day. Perhaps even another two days. Is there anything I can offer that would make your stay more comfortable?’
Lucy continued to sit in silence. It was a stupid, immature way to act, she knew. She might have asked for something to keep her amused. A TV, a book; anything. But there was much satisfaction to be had in being stubborn too, and right then she was feeling rebellious.
The Lieutenant-Colonel sighed again, and stood up. He put his cap back on. ‘Once again, I’m very sorry, Miss Taylor. I’d like to help you more, I really would. I’m doing all I can, and it’s a struggle just to keep you as comfortable as you are. You should know, there are some that think you should be put in a real holding-cell.
‘I’m your friend here, Miss, but you’re making it very hard for me to help you.’ He turned and walked to the door.
At the last moment, just before he left the room, Lucy broke her vow of silence despite herself. ‘I want answers,’ she said. ‘I want to know what’s happening. I want to know why I can’t go home. I just … I just want answers.’
The Lieutenant-Colonel looked pained. ‘Yes, I’m sure you do,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’ He left the room, locking the door behind himself.
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Author Notes:
-- Yay, Chapter Two. This took longer to write than Chapter One, and I'm not quite as happy with it.
-- It's 1,800 words. Less than I'd like, but it's just about passable, I suppose.
-- As with Chapter One, the above is only a first draft. It'll be edited quite heavily once I've finished the entire first draft. Of course, I'll refer back to any suggestions you give when it comes to editing this.
-- In particular, I'd like to hear about: a) is the chapter interesting enough? Or did parts of it bore you? and b) your thoughts on the POV character (Lucy). But as always, all advice, suggestions and thoughts are equally welcome. =)
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Chapter Three.
Or you could just get rid of the 
But think about it--she's in a cell, for part of it not advancing the story whatsoever, so you might as well tell us about her. What are her family like? Where does she live? Does the emptiness of the cell offer a rare serenity, and a break from the mad city rush? Whatever, I recommend some character development here. I don't think you need to worry about it going slow, because you would have already had an interesting chapter under your belt, so boredom shouldn't be an issue. No necessity to go overboard either, but in a space (probs between when she got up to test the door, and lay down on her bed staring at the wall) just get us to know her a bit--make us 
