Twenty-Six
Rahab stood at the window that overlooked Global London, a city she came to like a lot in recent days. She watched the sun slowly chase away the street lights, rising from behind the buildings of most diverse architecture. The contrast of comfort between the labour camp and this apartment was absurd, but those weeks in the camp gradually faded into a distant dream. She sometimes wondered if it had been real. All of this. The luxury of the city was alluring, and the pills they had given her made her forget the pain rapidly. And everybody who had caused it.
Rahab knew that her daughter, Amber, could not stay here much longer. She would be given to one of the raising centers, and Rahab made her peace with it. She was just not ready to let go yet. They had given her two more days.
