Atlas (A Selection/Hat Films Fanfiction)

~ Twenty ~

"Hello Atlas," my mother said, giving me a warm smile that only added to my anxiety. She looked so familiar, but her smile didn't reach her eyes, making me feel like she was looking at me more with pity than excitement of seeing her daughter again. "I know this is a lot to take in, why don't you-"

She motioned to a chair at the table, but I cut her off. "How are you alive? Where's dad?" I blurted, catching questions randomly out of the whirlwind in my head. I felt faint, but I tried to breathe through it, afraid that they would do something arbitrarily 'bad' to me while I was out.

I didn't believe in an afterlife, but I would still let myself imagine what it would be like to meet her there; there were a lot less hugs and tearful declarations of love that I had previously pictured it. I felt more like a cornered animal, and all my instincts screamed to fight and get out of the building any way I had to.

Everyone in the room stiffened and looked at each other. The men at the back of the room didn't say anything, eerily silent as they watched this reunion. They were unreadable, and I was afraid of them. My mother looked back at them for a moment.

"I'm an adult," I snapped as she clasped her hands together, "Just tell me what's going on."

"The car accident was real, Atlas," she said gravely, "I'm so sorry."

I felt something break in me and tears welling in my eyes at the implication. I had been close to my mother, but I had taken after my father in so many ways that our bond had inherently been much stronger. I had felt my heart swell with hope when I saw her that he would be here too, but with her words they crumbled inside of me.

My breathing came in shallow gasps and I tried to inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth, like I had been taught when I needed to calm down and catch my breath during a cage match. "You. . ." I panted after a moment, recognizing that trying to appear calm in front of these strangers when I was so tired and overwhelmed was futile, "You were alive. You survived the car accident and you've been . . . here? All this time?"

"Your father and I had already joined the northern rebels," she continued, skirting around my question "It was the perfect cover up, we had to take the chance. . . "

"You left," I accused, trying to yell but hearing my voice quiver, "You just – you left without telling me. You let your own children. . . starve? We were kicked out onto the streets! We became eights!! And for what!? What could possibly be more important than your children!?"

"Atlas," she continued evenly, giving me a pitiful look, "I'll explain everything. Let me introduce you to the other generals – "

"I cannot explain to you," I snapped, raising my shaking hands for emphasis, "how much I do not care. We nearly died! Like, a lot of times!! I have permanent damage to my body from malnutrition! I had to drop out of school to take care of Aristotle, and I couldn't even get a normal job because I was an eight!!"

"You two were never truly alone," she explained before I could continue, "we had operatives keeping an eye on you, making sure you wouldn't be charged or arrested for anything, making sure no one would harm you."

"Why!" I sobbed, my entire body shaking and my face contorting as I cried. It was all I could think of saying.

"Baby," she started, her voice softening as she opened her arms to me. I took another step back and wrapped my arms around myself to try and stop them from shaking, turning away from her and giving her an exasperated glare. She straightened again, "Have I ever told you why we named you Atlas?"

I blinked and another set of tears streamed down my face to wrap around my chin. "He was a Greek God," I said with a sneer, wiping my face with a fist, "What of it?"