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The death throes of the young boy froze Six. He was family. His struggle to live had rekindled something that Six forgot she had: empathy. Killing humans was easy. She never thought about it as killing another thinking being. To her, it always felt more like crushing ant underfoot or chopping the head off of a chicken. It might have been messy, but unavoidable. Something that didn't phase her. But the boy was different. She had lost a brother. Even if they weren't close, she could feel her heart pound. Her vision became narrow. Was this really the right path?

She was a tool. That's all she was. If she did what was asked of her, she could live without trouble.

But she was a person. No matter how many orders she followed or people she killed, she could never gain control.

Six shifted her body enough to finally crawl out of the young boy's back. Her arms retracted back through the boy's skull. Were it not for the dagger in the boy's gut, the boy would have been unaffected by the action. She emerged, water dripping from her clothes. All Six did was curl into a ball next to the boy. The cold air from outside bit into her clothes. Frost formed along the edges as she struggled to keep any warmth close to her.

She was miserable.