The sting from the punch is a distant echo, my cheek throbbing in time with my heartbeat. That stirs a response. Surprise, I think, though it’s a bit hazy. Surprise my heart’s still beating. There’s a point when you’ve endured too much, withstood too much, to remain living. A person shouldn’t have to face the aftermath of horrors so great they make you want to never exist again.
Except I can’t not exist.
I have to find her.
It’s the only thing that keeps me going.
The only string still attached to my puppet body, pulling the strings that make me move through my day to day life.
“Get up,” comes a voice from the gloom.
My heartbeat drums in my ears, insistent. A reminder.
The scuffle of feet against the cold concrete, a harsh exhalation, then a boot connects with my stomach. I bark out a cough and choke. My fingers dig into my diaphragm as though they can physically force my lungs to draw air. I vomit, the stench filling my nose somehow, even though I can’t breathe. Bile spews across the concrete, stinging the back of my throat.
“You’re disgusting,” the voice says. A rag slaps me in the face and I drag it away, suddenly feeling as though I’m being smothered. “Clean it up.”
I collapse in on myself until my lungs no longer feel like they’re scraping the backs of my ribs. My body convulses until I’m able to suck in rank lungfuls of putrid air. The guard still watches. I forget his name. Does it even matter? They’re all the same.
“Sucks you had to ruin our last night. They’re going to ship you down to the tunnels tomorrow for work detail. Probably won’t be coming back.” His laugh is dark and cruel, and I imagine him choking to death. I don’t even know his name, but his voice haunts my nightmares. Both waking and during sleep. The guards in Exilium don’t have to worry about human rights acts or retribution. They are a law unto themselves and we are their slaves.
I scoot away from the puddle of bile and saliva, away from the annoying sound of his voice. My brain focuses on the words he said. Ship you out tomorrow. I’m leaving. At first, my fevered brain doesn’t understand the meaning behind the words, and I think I’m going to see my mother. Going home. Then the rest of the words register, and I realize there will never be any going home. I will never find my mother. All that’s left of my life is pain and fear.
“What a waste,” the guard says with a scoff. The doors whir shut behind him, but I’m no longer paying attention to him. There have been many like him. I’ve lost track of them all. They can use my body, but they’ll never break me, that I promised myself.
Children on Earth II should have been prized to a people who nearly lost everything. I should have been safe when my mother was taken away, but if anything, I was even more vulnerable. She’d shielded me from the worst parts of Earth II. From those who would have taken advantage of me, hurt me. She gave me a short period of memories and relative safety. In her arms, I thought no one could hurt me.
After she left, I was without that protection, forced to be as strong as she’d always been. Beaten and abused, forgotten and displaced, I bounced from placement to placement, horror to horror until I grew numb to it all. I only had one goal. Find out what happened to my mother.
Nothing else mattered.
Not even how much it cost me.
A pocket of turbulence jolts the ship and I jump to my feet, rolling my shoulders to rid myself of the memories. “I’m going to try and get some sleep,” I say to no one in particular, thinking maybe if I say it out loud, my body will cooperate. “Do you want me to have Theron relieve you?”
“No,” Avrell answers distractedly. “Let him sleep. He’ll need the energy to stare at his reflection all solar long.”
We share a smile.
“Good night,” I say.
“Good night.”
I wanted to believe leaving Earth II would put it all behind me, but that was foolish. We should have known overthrowing the prison would have consequences. The others wanted freedom, but I knew it was the quickest way to get out so I could locate my mom. What does that say about me? Certainly nothing good. Maybe I’m not the perfect woman Theron thinks I am.
Indecision has me hesitating at my door. I should go inside and tuck myself into the sparse bed and get some sleep. We still have a few days of travel back to the prison and with the threat of Earth II on our backs, I need to be rested and ready…come what may. But I can’t seem to make myself cross the threshold.