Feeling at home was mostly an unknown thing in Sydney’s life. Hell, for most of it. She only got that bit of comfort when the female arrived to Sanctum. Which, was now over a year ago. It was the life she never thought she would have. Granted, everything came with setbacks and she couldn’t help but dwell a bit on all of the horrible things that had happened to her, along with each and every member of the community. But that still didn’t take away what she had built for herself here. What she had been given by those around her. She truly owed everything she had to Sophia. To all of them. Even if her life had been a complete spiral as of late.

The bottle lay half empty beside her, along with a pill bottle and half smoked blunt decorating the ashtray threatening to be spilled over at any moment. Out of her head was an understatement. And, traveling to dark and deep parts of her mind was the one major set back she always seemed to have.

"I can’t.. I don’t..” The problem was that she couldn’t even make out the face of the hidden man in the shadows. It was like she knew him, but couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Everything felt off, and the shivers running down her body told her all she needed to. “No strings attached. Nothing. Just a better, simpler, and undying loyalty free life.” He spoke, a little too calmly as he gave her promises of leaving Sanctum. Death. Death is all that could come of this. How could it not? How could she just leave? She’d given her life. Her loyalty. Her heart and soul to this place. 

“Your words mean nothing. Nothing at all.” She spoke back, realizing she didn’t even have to think about his offer, at all. Declining it was the only option. That’s when she saw the red in his eyes as the world instantly grew darker. Like the walls were closing in. Like she’d angered a lingering spirit. But.. still, she didn’t care. She couldn’t. She refused. Going anywhere else was never in her plans. It never would be.

Just when the shadow went to reach out to her, she spoke the leader’s names. Sophia. Thatcher. Maggie. Her eyes opened. Realizing she was still huddled up on a couch, where she had seemingly drifted off into satan knows what. The flick of a lighter sparked the half burnt blunt, before the bottle touched her lips again. A smile forming against her features as she drank, and she never questioned if this was exactly where she wanted to be.