Maverick| The Start of the End

.:Start:.

They were all one sound. One voice, one heart, a ball of emotion. Era slid the knife over the line which was frayed from the blade. Every day, every night, they all did this. Fits thumped on rocks, floor, walls, anything that they found hold on. The roaring grew in volume as Era lifted her hand over the white bowl, it's water stained with blood. She opened her fist, and let the tiny spot of blood drip into the bowl. This was her life. This was her home. Era released a breath she didn't know she was holding. The beating was defending, seeping into every pore, every vein, every fiber of her being. This is what she wanted; this is what she wanted. She swore that she was right, she swore that this was what she dreamed off.

But was it?

Standing on the cold floor, everyone pounding on one single table that was beside her, high boots cutting into her warm brown skin, she didn't know. A man with a cropped mohawk, took the knife, and wrapped it in a white silk. He handed her a bandage, and a small cotton, smelling strongly of alcohol. She wiped the cotton over the cut, hissing as the sting grew stronger, and putting the bandage on it. The thumbing echoed her heartbeat, rung in her ears, skin, brain. Her parents watched solely, not betraying any emotion. Her father's lip twitched, a single jerk, enough to make Era recoil. She would never see her parent's again, never be able to sleep in her bed. Never wake up to the smell of blood and infection, never get to look outside, and feel safe.

She was going to war.