Aᴘʀɪʟ 3, 2024
It's been a day.
Search parties are out looking for a girl and that said girl is in a private elevator going up to Petro Moskal's private quarters. It dings, doors sliding open and she comes out, soaked and shivering from head to toe. Her teeth doesn't chatter, because they're clenched and her mop of hair makes her look ghastly. Her cloak is gone, revealing her long-sleeved bodysuit, pantyhose covered legs and utility belt with unused throwing knives, a pistol and phone. (She had lost her machine gun.) Her boots track mud and water down the corridor.
The cameras zero in on her form and soon the message has passed to the old, Russian man, who's been couped up in his office ever since the girl went off radar. His door flies open and he rushes out into the main hall, hands on the wall and legs apart as he breathes deeply. "Alexa?"
"It doesn't hurt to look, does it?"
"Alexa!"
She stops and turns slowly, staring at Petro. Then, she drops to her knees and falls forward on her face, unconscious.
Time never stops. The Earth is always rotating on its axis everyday, while going around the sun every year. It might be a cycle for time to continue, but things get old, things upgrade/downgrade and stories change; proof that people do try to keep up.
There's always a few left behind, stuck one place in their mentality after something tragic, with no one to give them a push. If only they could rewind time... There's a girl who's hurting and she doesn't know how to express it. She suffers in silence.
This is something she can't just press 'RESTART' for. Her finger hovers over 'MOVE ON' but she struggles to choose it. Yes, she knows that she can't just forget and move on. It takes time. That's it. It's all about time. It takes time to get over things and move on, which could be months—years, she'll do her best to grow and accept the outcome of things, which she's good at. Acceptance, but it all takes time. And right now, isn't the time to act like nothing happened...right now, is the time to mourn. Let it all out. She drops her hand away from the options that will always be there.
Petro doesn't know how to feel. It was a part of his plan to get rid of everyone, especially that wretched blind boy. He knew Alexa would be devastated, since she had grown close to a few. He had had that bomb implanted, he had sent a spy to detonate it at the right time, making sure she was unscathed. He knew she'd be like this, yet he still did it. Petro cares, but no more than how much he cares for himself and what he wants. And, his plans for her will only work if she's back to the old her, he believes. So, why does he not know how to feel about something he did so surely?
Alexa is resting on her back, in a white room, on a white bed, many storeys off the ground, staring at the clear blue sky, through a closed glass window. If it isn't for the sweet smell of an air conditioner, anyone would think they're at a hospital. This time, she knows where she is.
Her wakening in the medical room reminds her of the first day she came here. That day, Phillip was probably still struggling with training, innocent to his far-fetched destiny. If we did decide to run away instead, would he be dead?
Alexa shakes her head. She's doing it again. The same what-if thoughts she had when Ryan unfortunately died from the gun of a man they made the mistake of missing.
Fuck acceptance! Oh? I can't just sit back and accept everything like I used to. Hm. I need to make a path for myself! It might be too late for Phillipeño, because he wanted to follow me...but he's gone. I can't change anything in the past, but I can make a path for myself instead of waiting for things to happen. Right. I need to make things happen for me.
Smart girl.