*Crunch* *Crunch* *Crunch* Her steps snapped the stiff grass, brittle as if it had been frozen solid. Flowur felt no chill, she barely felt anything in fact. Still, her legs continued to march onward. She had no reason to march on. The dark path seemed to stretch on farther than she could even see. Yet her legs carried her forward, inattentive of her own will.
The air felt suffocating. I should just turn around and go back, her thoughts danced —yet her body did not stall. It couldn't. It couldn't bring him back. Bring any of them back. Her mind continued to object—gave reasons to stop. She couldn't. The forest around her stood still. Silent. The only thing to hear was the crunch of the grass beneath her feet
"You could do so much. Why do you do so little"? So many people had told her that. They always phrased it like a question. It never was. They knew the answer… they didn't care. She continued her march, further and further. They always act like they care, claiming they want to help. If they really cared they'd all just leave me alone. The grass beneath her feet began to crack and shatter as she walked, as brittle as glass. I don't want a new place. I don't want a distraction. Her rage grew as her thoughts began screaming. He's gone! They're gone! And I can never and will never get to do anything about it!
She wanted to cry, but that wasn't an option. All she could do was continue. I want to have met them, to remember their faces, to hear their voices for the very first time! I. Want. Him. Back. A chill spread to her fingers and toes. They grew stiffer—frozen. She didn't care. They tell me to move on! I can't! The stiffness spread up her hands and feet.
They claimed he was a hero, claimed he's looking down. They tried to comfort me. But words don't bring him back! Walking grew difficult as the stiffness spread to her ankles and wrists. I can't just "move on" as they all have! You questioned me, claimed I was letting myself waste away! Couldn't let me just… Her thoughts trailed off… A light grew from the darkness ahead of her. Silhouetted within it, a figure.
Walking felt like wading through mud as the stiffness passed her knees and elbows. Yet her body disregarded her exhaustion as she carried on toward this figure. The blue light positioned just behind them, obscuring all but their silhouette. She wanted to run, to leave. With just a single step backward, you may reject this fate, the voice echoed through her mind. If you continue, you will undergo a journey which may lead to your salvation, or doom for all. Her legs continued to push her forward, the stiffness reaching her thighs and shoulders. I could turn back I-.
Her thoughts of escape vanish as the figure's eyes lock with her own. A pair of cyan eyes shining clearly, despite its obscured form. Her breaths become shallow. Her heart pounding. She stretches a hand out, the action feels sluggish and painful. She lurches forward; her legs unable to even hold her anymore. Pain shoots through her, the jagged grass crystals like landing on a bed of nails. She reaches out towards the figure. The inner voice telling her to turn back silenced. You've made your choice. You become my queen as the final piece is set upon the board. Take my hand and become a Chosen Awakened. The fate of you has become the fate of all.
The figure extends its arm toward her. Flowur forces herself to reach; the pain nearly unbearable, but she persists. She must. Her fingers tremble just inches away from its hand, his hand. Pain wrenches through her arm, as if hundreds of daggers were sinking into her flesh. But she must reach him. With a final push her fingers brush against his own. Light engulfs her vision.
Hundreds of images flash before her, all passing in a moment and yet feeling like an eternity. The stiffness of her limbs evaporates, replaced by a new feeling—impossible to articulate. Her body sinks and ascends simultaneously. A thousand voices speak to her, only nonsense yet completely clear. The light in her eyes sears to an unbearable blaze, the voices swelling to a deafening roar. Everything around her too much to handle, an unbearable pain. Then… nothing, it all vanishes, and she sinks into the darkness once more.
***
Flowur's eyes flutter open; as usual, her eyelids feel heavy. The harsh glow of the fluorescent light shines brightly above her. That must mean its midday, at the earliest—not that she cares. The strange dream fades from her thoughts rapidly as she continues to lie there, unwilling to gather the strength to move yet. She pushes the blanket away from her, the heat making her uncomfortable. Why can't I just fall back asleep.
As she lies there silently, her body begins to grow restless. She wills herself to move and sits up. Her eyes glance to the analog clock on the wall. 11:30.
"Earlier than normal" she mumbles, shoving the blankets and sheets off. They hit the floor with a soft thud, crumpling into a small pile—as they do every morning.
The room is small—very small. If one didn't know any better, they would mistake it for a prison cell. Not that she could do anything about it, unworking regulars don't get a choice. Scrunched between the end of her bed and the wall there's a small wooden writing desk. The only fancy thing she owns.
A large steel dresser compresses her already miniscule walking space, unfolded clothes and an abandoned bookbag stuffed inside. The chair to the writing desk sits beside her bed, helping her climb into and out of the uncomfortably tall bed frame.
The ceiling, walls, and floors are bare. The concrete clear to see, compressing the already claustrophobic atmosphere even more. A single fluorescent light bulb is mounted to the ceiling. Flowur once got in trouble for unscrewing it. No windows—not like there would be—windows are a weak point.
Atop her dresser, the most colorful object in the room, sits a square canvas, a painting of a figure running through a field of flowers. The last thing her brother ever gave to her. Now standing tall—a testament to his boundless creativity.
She climbs out of the bed, planting her feet on the chair then stepping down. As she glances around the room her eyes settle to the picture frame on her desk. Her brother grins, his tongue stuck out and hands giving dual thumbs up; his cyan eyes filled with a joy and kindness only he possessed.
Unable to look away, Flowur begins to mumble "I had a dream about you last night. Guess that's not much of a surprise though huh?" Her hands drop into her pockets, reducing her already short stature down even smaller. "Is it… peaceful there?... I hope so, it isn't here. My assigned captain keeps trying to get me to find a work position…" her head hinges downward. "I know you said everyone is just trying their best, and that they want to help me. But sometimes it just… y'know… it doesn't feel like it." Her eyes begin to mist until abruptly, her stomach lets out a loud gurgle. A tiny smile forming at the edge of her lips before vanishing almost as quickly. "I guess… I should go get food then. Goodbye… I miss you."
She slips on her shoes and steps up to the metal door of her room, a moment passes before it slides open with a 'hssss'. She steps up the stair onto the metal floors of the hallway. Behind her, the door hisses closed. The emptiness creating an earie atmosphere. She keeps her eyes pointed to the floor as she walks to the cafeteria; brushing her auburn hair over her face in hopes of avoiding as much attention as possible.
As cafeteria double doors slide open with a hiss, she glances up, a few groups are scattered throughout the cafeteria, sitting at the various tables. Lunch, duh, I should've waited longer. She berates herself as she walks to the line to get food.
She hears a snide laugh from a nearby table. "Look there Icce, Flowur is up before noon—it's a miracle." A masculine voice drips with amusement; followed by another bout of laughter.
"She keeps this up and she might actually bathe this year." another voice—presumably Icce—laughs.
"Will you two assholes shut it? Picking on her isn't funny. She isn't bothering either of you." A sharp feminine voice chides the two men, causing Flowur to blink and glance up to see her defender.
Sitting at the same table across from the two men, a pale-skinned girl of similar age with soft gentle eyes meets her gaze. Her white hair pulled back in a ponytail. Flowur recalls her—Light.
The two men snap their mouths shut, seemingly unwilling to upset Light. Flowur looks away from the group, not wishing to interact as she focuses on the food, grabbing a plate and placing a small handful of fruit and a piece of bread. As she turns away, she spots Light silently gesture to an empty spot at the table. She drops her eyes, walking instead to an empty table—wishing to be isolated.
Her hunger pangs are sharp, but, as she pushes the food around her plate, it looks completely unappetizing. It's been a while since she's eaten—food doesn't offer any appeal beside soothing the pangs of hunger. "You can't just not eat silly." She recalls the memory of her brother, the only thing that lets her still stomach food since her appetite vanished. She forces a piece of fruit into her mouth, knowing he'd hate seeing her starve herself.
The memory shatters as the sound of a metal chair scraping against the floor causes her eyes to snap up. A large man wearing a brown, well ironed uniform takes the seat across from her. His beard is neatly trimmed, and he keeps his back rigid, like he's ready to jump up at a moment's notice. His eyes bore into Flowur, even the auburn hair draped over her eyes doing nothing to hide it.
"Flowur" his voice is deep and carries a commanding tone to it.
She sighs internally, knowing where this will go. "Captain Marcus" she responds flatly, her eyes lowering back down to her small plate of food.
Captain Marcus narrows his eyes, clearly unimpressed by her lack of enthusiasm. His fingers drumming against the table as he stares at her.
"That isn't very much food Flowur, you'll be hungry" he leans forward, the concern in his voice genuine; even though that isn't the reason he's here.
"This was my second trip" she says, forcing the words out. If she hadn't, he'd force her to eat more—like last time.
Marcus leans forward, scanning her face through her dangling hair, like he's searching for any evidence of her lying. "You can't keep starving yourself, it's important to eat." He says, crossing his arms.
She forces a piece of fruit into her mouth, perhaps hoping it would make her lie more convincing. "I'm not, I know." Her pangs of hunger sharpened suddenly, as if her own body was challenging her lie. A shard of guilt crept into her for lying to Marcus.
Marcus nods in response, leaning back as he uncrosses his arms. A small sigh escapes his lips as he gets to the real reason he's here—one they both already knew. "You still don't have a work position."
"Uh huh, sure don't" Flowur responds, pushing a small piece of fruit around the plate with a fork.
Marcus huffs, clearly annoyed by her dismissive response. "And why is that?" he asks, the annoyance clear from his tone.
"I don't want one." She says flatly, pushing her hair out of her face and looking up at him.
Marcus frowns, Flowur's attitude beginning to grind his gears. "And why don't you want one" he asks, he fingers tapping rapidly against the table.
"I just don't." She responds, feeling her own impatience grow at having to keep answering these questions.
Marcus scowls opening his mouth to say something about her bad attitude before stopping. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath while pausing, his scowl fades as he meets her eyes with his own. "Flowur, I have tried everything, I have tried threatening you, I have tried forcing you, I have given you to every task we have short of sending you out into the Danger Zones."
His honesty shocks Flowur, but beneath her surprise she can feel something else boiling up, you mean like how did to-. The retort clear yet she holds her tongue
His tone carries an unfamiliar gentleness too it. "What do I need to do for you to find some enthusiasm Flowur?" His eyes softening.
What do you need to do, what do you think! The voice in her head screams, but she holds her composure, to bitterly say "Talk to your organization,"
Marcus's eye brows raise in surprise at her low bitter response, but he steels himself as he relocks eyes with her "And how would speaking with the defense force help?"
Her fingers dig into her palms, feeling like spikes. Her teeth grind, her lips curling as her anger begins to surge. "Maybe when they stop sending my only family off to die who knows where, in the Danger Zone! Then I'll find some enthusiasm!" By the end, her voice is a shout, raw with emotion.
Marcus leans back, his eyes widening as her emotional outburst hits him. "Flowur, we wouldn't send him off to die. And the body was never found he could sti-"
"Don't give me that fucking bullshit Marcus!" She screams, voice now echoing across the entire cafeteria, causing heads to turn. "It's been six fucking years! Not a single drop of news since! Just tell me the fucking truth! You knew from the beginning he's dead and you just didn't want to look the 14-year-old girl in the eyes and admit the last family she had was dead!" Her body trembling with the force of her scream, the anger she's carried for so long clear.
The ambience of the cafeteria vanishes. Quiet enough to hear a pin drop as all conversations or food consumption cease. Flower's chest rises and falls with ragged breath the inhales shaky and slow, her hands clenched tight enough to whiten her knuckles, her eyes locked with Marcus—rage radiating out of her as her heart races. He doesn't speak, knowing that nothing he says or does will be of any help in soothing her burning rage. It hurts his heart, but he hopes his silence will succeed in letting her vent off her rage. He knows this has been bothering her for a long time. Instead, he merely meets her eye contact, his expression unreadable.
They stay like that for a long time. Minutes pass and Flowur can feel her eyes grow tired. With a growl she breaks the stare; head snapping to the side— her fork violently stabbing a piece of fruit and forcing it into her mouth. Refusing to even glance at Marcus.
The cafeteria slowly begins to return to a normal volume, many of the occupants continue shooting glances over at the table containing Flowur and Marcus. Flowur eventually drops her glare, eyelids lowering as her expression flattens. Marcus holds his stare, hoping that this outburst may finally lead to some progress.
As Flowur finishes her small meal, she stands—to return the plate. Marcus stands as well, following behind her, resolving not to let their conversation end just yet. Flowur places the empty plate, turning in the direction of the door to her room. Marcus steps in her way, silently stopping her escape.
They stand there for a while—this is a game they've played before. Flowur is physically too small to dodge around Marcus. Always leading to this, his size caging her in and blocking her path. Marcus wishes to force her to his office so they can discuss this further. Flowur wishes to return to her room. Locking the door and blocking out the world around her once more. This is not the first time—it will not be the last time either.
Minutes pass. Neither moving nor backing down. Normally, Flowur lost this game, her legs would begin to ache and eventually, she'd give in. But not this time. She feels no pain and her agitation with Marcus keeps her willpower steady. This time, she stands firm.
The minutes continue ticking by. Marcus begins tapping his foot and glancing at his watch. His desire to help Flowur clashing with the responsibilities of his work. His wife has often told him of his stubbornness, but it seems, even he has his limits. He lets out a sigh and starts to move, relenting to jus—
"ALERT, ALERT, ALERT" The alarm bells blare across the entire facility causing everyone to flinch. "THERE IS A MONSTER BREACH IN SECTOR 7'S CENTRAL CORE, I REPEAT THERE IS A MONSTER BREACH IN SECTOR 7'S CENTRAL CORE. ALL NON-MILITARY AND NON-AWAKENED EVACUATE TO THE CENTRAL SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. I REPEAT, ALL NON-MILITARY AND NON-AWAKENED EVACUATE TO THE CENTRAL SHELTER IMMEDIATELY" The voice wails—cutting through the noise, heads snapping toward the speakers. Flowur's eyes widen, a fear crawling through her; that's this sector.
Marcus's focus snaps to the direction of the core, his frustrations evaporating in an instant.
"Flowur, go! The Central Shelter! Now!" He barks, his usual stoic and calm expression replaced by one of focus and a hint of worry.
He bolts through the doorway leading to the Core. Flowur is left staring as his form vanishes beyond it, the cafeteria rapidly emptying as soldiers follow him, any regulars instead running toward the shelter. Her stomach drops, she is, like usual, left alone.
She couldn't move, the alarm wailed, its message repeating over and over. The building trembled beneath her feet.
Why…why does it feel — no! That was just a dream! Her mind raced. The world closed in around her, her heart pounding.
Deep inside her, something stirs, an unfamiliar pull tugging at her core. It isn't fear. It isn't hesitation. It's instinct. An urge, primal and undeniable, whispering to her, Go. Run. To the Core.
A single line from her dream echoes in her mind; With just a single step backward, you may reject this fate. A single step—that's all it would take. She could turn away. She could hide in the shelter. She could reject this fate.
But she doesn't.
Instead, her feet move before her mind can catch up, she bolts toward the Central Core. Her fear left behind, an electricity hums through her limbs, filling her with a strength she'd never felt before. It isn't just adrenaline—it's something deeper, more.
For the first time in nearly six years, Flowur doesn't just exist. She acts. She chooses.
And she runs.