Isabelle could hear them arguing about her failure, though she could not make out the words. She lit another cigarette and threw her small metal case beside her. The match hit the chair and curled up among the charred remains of hundreds of others littered on the chamber floor. She walked up to the door and screamed at it.
“Tunisia!”
The exasperated look on Esmé’s face worstened with the commotion. All twelve of the operators had taken a step back hurriedly at the sound of Isabelle’s shout and fallen to the floor. Isabelle emerged running from the room and attempted the seventeenth escape in less than a week.
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Thank you for your words. They feed my words, hence everybody's happy.