Reality Check

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Start a Riot (by Bastille)

"If your world falls apart, I'd start a riot. If night falls in your heart, I'd light the fire . . ."

___

It barely occurred to her that she was running. Running so fast that her brain couldn't even catch up, which maybe was a good thing. The jail whipped past, all of it a blur of gray. Coming here had been a mistake. It'd been a huge mistake. She wished she could forget everything within the fifteen minutes she'd talked to Nobody. She just needed to get out of here, away from where Nobody was, away from the source of her suffering, away from everything.

Apparently, despite how fast she was running, she couldn't get to the exit fast enough. The walls felt like they were closing in on her, threatening to hold her here forever. She pushed her legs faster, urging them forward. Why did she come here? Bethany could still hear his laughter in her head, his words that were laced with callousness. Good luck with your failure.

An indescribable rage flooded Bethany's veins, mixed with a whirlwind of disbelief and fear and sadness. She couldn't tell which emotion overpowered the others, only that she felt so, so stupid. It didn't work. It should've worked, but it didn't. How couldn't she have anticipated that? Why had a small part of her believed — hoped, even — that she'd be given some kind of advice? Or at least a hint of how to fix things. But no, she'd gotten exactly the response she'd expected all along. She just hadn't wanted to believe it before.

"Bethany?" A surprised voice, and then footsteps following quickly after her. She barely recognized the voice as Owen's, or saw the concern on his face. She just kept running, each step carrying her to the entrance. Her sneakers skidded across the floor as she turned the next corner, back the way they'd come in. There was the door, still partially open from when she'd first entered.

She reached it then, pushing it open and racing past the mess in the waiting room. She didn't even stop to see if the lady from earlier was back. It was like she had tunnel vision, and the exit was the only thing in sight. The only thing she cared about. Finally, her hands reached the handle of the front door, and she pushed roughly on it, bursting out into the open air. Only then did she stop running, all of her momentum coming to a standstill.

"Bethany!" Owen shouted, coming out a second after her. "What's wrong? What happened in there?"

Not looking at him, Bethany tore off her bodysuit. She didn't care if anyone was around to see, not anymore. Beyond frustrated, she threw it as hard as she could to the ground. It fell down, landing on the remains of the crusty snow. There was no way the suit wouldn't get dirty now, not that she cared. "Nothing! Nothing happened!"

"What do you mean?" Owen asked, his voice rising an octave. She felt worse, knowing that she must be freaking him out. In a less aggressive way than she had, he started taking off his own bodysuit, only to get the fabric caught on his head. He grunted, flailing awkwardly in an attempt to pull it off.

Bethany leaned over, helping him pull it down. "Nobody was just — ugh! It didn't work, Owen! Just like you thought it wouldn't!"

His shoulders slumped. "I didn't wanna be right."

Ignoring him, she shook her head angrily. "I was so stupid — I — I thought that he'd give me answers. But of course I was wrong. And now I have no idea how to fix anything!"

"That's okay—" Owen was saying.

"Don't tell me that. It's not. I'm so sorry, I tried to get it out of him, and it didn't work! I didn't expect it to be so . . ." She blinked, shaking her head in disbelief. She let out a shaky breath. "I thought we'd get answers. But I— I got nothing."