The sound of the two Alphas fucking was nothing. Breathing was nothing. Where she had been slowly settling into life in that little grey room, she was now free of such petty things as further existence. A great crack ran through her chest, a fissure that bled vile, noxious gas into the air while Claire sat there in the dark, the music of evil coming through the door. There was nothing left for the greasy thread to hold onto. There was nothing left inside her... but she was still horribly Claire.

Later, Shepherd woke her where she slept against the wall. He pulled her up and sat her on the lid of the toilet so he could press a wet towel to her split lip. She looked him dead in the eye, a fierce, penetrating, nightmare of a gaze. When he said nothing, she began to laugh at him, loudly, the noise saturated in judgment.

He was pathetic... disgusting. And he was dead to her.

The expression that came was one of confusion—the look a small boy cornered by bullies wears. It was perfect.

A hard voice growled, "Svana is dangerous."

Claire only laughed harder, the hoarse sound ruined by the damage to her throat. She laughed until her face was red, until her insides hurt. She laughed until she had to push past Shepherd and puke in the sink. Standing straight, she wiped her stinging mouth with the back of her hand and, still snickering, walked out of the bathroom and into a room that, if she had any reason to breathe, would have smelled utterly tainted.

It was just four grey walls, every crack known to her—a box with nothing in it.

Her nest was a wreck, so Claire lay down in the middle of the floor and closed her eyes. It almost felt like she was merging with the earth, becoming one with the endless, lifeless room.

It was beautiful.

When she woke, it was bright outside, Claire felt it in her bones. She stared at the ceiling imagining the way sunlight must glint off the Dome. She was alone again. Food was on the table waiting for her. Standing, she took the plate, carried it to the bathroom, and flushed everything down the toilet. Dropping the vitamin, her lips sounded out the word, "plop," as it fell into the swishing water. The empty plate was returned to the tray and she went right back to her warm outline on the floor. A whole day passed.

The door opened. Her listless eyes found the blue-eyed Beta had come with another tray. The Follower moved past her as if she did not exist.

Devoid of feeling, Claire croaked, "I don't know your name."

Deadpan, he answered, "I'm Jules. Shepherd desires that you do not forget the vitamin."

The empty tray was taken. He walked by without even looking at her.