Captain Without a Crew

[Brackie]

Ashanti didn't know what was going through Anthony's head during his silence, but he did start going through the binder. People whose faces she looked over, people who were no longer alive, people who could have once been considered important now no longer here. Just Ashanti and Anthony, under a sheet.

He'd reassured her, at least. It didn't change anything, she'd technically gone through with it. She'd thought about it, for a little bit, beforehand. She wasn't the first person to think she'd killed somebody and turn out to be wrong. She wouldn't be the last.

Anthony eventually departed for a shower - she'd need one as well, even if they made her feel uncomfortable. She'd lost bodily autonomy ages ago, so losing her clothes in front of millions of people wasn't exactly a strong step. She'd probably still do it in her underwear, though. It followed through.

As she sat there, underneath the sheet, she silently began burrowing backwards into her head.

A few seconds later, she began hurriedly writing on the notepad, in tiny letters. Hand signals drawn, even though Ashanti couldn't draw hands, matching up with words. They weren't complicated.

But if Ashanti was going to get out of here, with Anthony, her helping him and him helping her, then there needed to be a way they could communicate together without running below a sheet to write notes like they were sleeping over.

She was going to have to create her fifth language.

((Ashanti Baker continued elsewhere))