The girl's fingers cramped together as she vigorously wrote in her worn notebook. Her candle lit room dead silent besides the sound of her scribbling. She didn't know exactly what she was drawing, she simply let her fingers do the work. This was beginning to become a normal occurrence for Anastasia. There would be an image in her head, something she couldn't quite make out, and she would have the urge to draw it. She never knew what it was until her nimble fingers dropped the number two pencil.
You see, nineteen year old Anastasia Grey had no recollection of her life before the apocalypse. In fact, the farthest back she could remember was waking up to two women staring down at her, who she would later know as, Wilhemina Venable and Miriam Mead. It had been a troublesome experience to say the least. The girl had woken up in a panic as the two intimidating women looked down at her like she had gone mad. Looking back, Anastasia couldn't blame them for their questioning looks, considering she thought she had gone mad.
She couldn't remember anything, not a damn thing, and it had felt as if someone had ripped her soul right out of her body and left her hollow. Venable had kept a stoic expression as she tried to calmly explain the situation to Anastasia. "The end of times is upon us, child." The tall woman had told her, which wasn't exactly something that calmed the frightened girl's nerves.
Venable was not a patient woman, so the panicked cries Anastasia released only infuriated the woman. Ms. Mead had taken control then. Sitting down on the girl's bed, she clasped a cold—emotionless hand against her shaky one. She had been straightforward with Ana, telling her that she had been honored by being selected to help create the new world. She told her that she was special, that she should be grateful to be given such an opportunity and to not waste her tears.
However, as much as it seemed that Venable and Mead had the answers to her questions, they could not grant the girl a reason as to why her memory was no longer in tact. "Perhaps it was the radiation?" Venable had asked her trusted partner. The only thing they really knew about her was that they were under strict orders from the cooperative to not let any harm come to Anastasia. Outpost three was to be ran and operated by Wilhelmina, and it troubled her greatly at the lack of knowledge she held for the girl. What was so special about her?
She was to be kept in a purple suite and to be treated kindly. Those had been direct orders.
As the days had gone on, the only thing Anastasia had done was wallow in her purple bed sheets. She didn't believe anything the two had told her. She believed she had been kidnapped and was bound to become a poster child. The girl had felt paralyzed with fear at the emptiness of her mind. For hours she would try to search for something, anything, as to why she was being held captive.
But much to Ana's disbelieve, Venable's words had, in fact, been of truth. One by one, more people began to show up at the outpost, and Miriam had forced her to leave the comfort of her room to socialize. Anastasia had been slightly jealous of the newcomers, because all of their memories had been in tact. As everyone finally settled into their new home, a meeting was called were Venable and Mead instructed everyone of the current situation. It was the same speech they had given Ana three days prior.
There had been an uproar of anger and disapproval from the newcomers, but just like before, Ms. Mead had taken control again. With an emotionless face she told them that whether they liked it or not, they were stuck there until further notice. "Make the best of it." She had instructed. It had been in that moment that everyone began to finally digest what really was going on, a moment that Venable took as an opportunity to continue her introduction.
And as the months went on, everyone slowly began to settle into a routine. Anastasia would try her best to socialize, in hopes of triggering something in her brain, but it never worked. She quickly came to realize that most everyone that had been picked to "recreate the world", were nothing but snobby bitches. However, she took quite a liking to Mallory and Gallant. She was a quiet girl and didn't like to talk much, but their presence always calmed her anxieties. Panic attacks had overcome her several times, the feeling of darkness always bringing her too her knees. That was all her mind knew, darkness. And if it weren't for Gallant's bright and loud personality keeping her entertained, she surely would have slipped further into her depression.
Anastasia figured it had been several months before she had her first image. Really, it hadn't been an image, more of a feeling. It was so powerful it almost made her vomit. She had scurried around the outpost in hopes to find some scrap paper, and she had thought that Venable would have hung her when she had accidentally stumbled into her private quarters. However, she simply swallowed her anger and tossed her a brown—warn notebook, accompanied by a pencil.
When she had arrived at her large suite, she had practically collapsed onto the ground and began scribbling in her little book. When she had finished her drawing, she had wanted to throw it the fireplace. "A flower?", she had scoffed in disbelief. Why did she have such a powerful urge to draw a flower? She felt foolish as she set on the floor, chest heaving as she recovered from her sprint all over the outpost. All that work for a damn flower. Mallory was her best friend at the outpost prison, so she took it upon herself to seek guidance from her. She liked Gallant and considered him a friend, but he was one of those people that liked to talk about his problems rather than listen to anyone else's. And like always, Mallory was able to calm the girl's trouble. Telling her that maybe her memory was coming back one bit at a time. The thought had almost sent Anastasia through the roof with happiness, and from there on out she always made sure to keep her notebook close by her.
The images, or rather feelings, came far and few between at first, but then as time gone on, it was almost a weekly occurrence. She always discussed the image with Mallory and what it could possibly represent, but the drawings were so random it completely left them baffled.
That was what was happening now. There Anastasia sat in the candle lit room, a silk purple robe wrapped around her body as she drew on the thin paper. She was almost halfway through the notebook, and she hoped that Venable had another. Dropping the pencil, she brought her hand to her forehead and groaned as she tried rubbing her headache away. She never really got nauseas anymore, usually her drawing urges seemed to be accompanied by headaches. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes to take in whatever new drawing her paralyzed brain had conjured up.
"What?" She breathed in exasperation, a knock sounding through her room that she knew belonged to Mallory. Frustrated with another useless drawing, she slammed the book on the desk and collapsed face down in the bed. "Come in!" She responded with a muffled voice.
The door creaked open, followed by the sound of Mallory's familiar heels. "Drawing again?" She asked with a soft voice, causing Anastasia to lift herself onto her elbows and peer over at her friend. "Yeah. Another mystery." She sighed in frustration.
She watched as Mallory studied the paper, walking slowly to the bed to sit beside her as she read the book. "Well, it's no mystery what you drew, Ana. It's a playground." She smiled encouragingly. "See? There's the slide and here's the swing." She used her finger to point to the drawing as Anastasia sat up beside her, the two now sitting shoulder to shoulder.
"Yeah, I know what it is, Mallory." The girl sighed sadly. "But why?" Her pale, blue eyes pierced into Mallory's. "I mean, look at this thing!" She grabbed the notebook and began flipping through pages. "A flower, a ring, a puzzle, a playground, it just goes on and on and on! Just stupid pictures that don't make sense!" She rushed as she placed the book down at the space between them. "None of this makes sense, Mal." Placing her head in her hands, she breathed out in a angry manor, feeling a hand rub the space between her shoulders.
"I know. I'm sorry." Mallory spoke kindly. And Mallory really did feel sorry for the girl. For months, she was trapped in darkness, her life being swept away from her. She couldn't imagine what that was like. Sometime she felt like that herself, like there was someone buried inside her waiting to claw it's way out. But she never shared that part of her with Anastasia, she felt too guilty. Because she knew that she had it so much easier compared to her friend, she had no room to complain. She rarely talked about her past life either, too afraid that it would seem like she was bragging.
"No, don't apologize." Ana lifted her face and grasped Mallory's hand. "I'm sorry for snapping. It's just...I'm so tired of not knowing, ya know?" She spoke quietly, not allowing tears to brim her eyes. She was good at keeping her emotions at bay, for the most part anyways. She hadn't been at first, and Venable had to refrain herself from slapping the girl several times from her constant crying.
"I feel powerless not being able to help you, Ana. I hate seeing you in pain." Mallory's words brought a smile to Anastasia's face, and she scooted closer to rest her head on her friends shoulder.
"You don't deserve to be a grey, Mallory. You're too sweet." Mallory laughed at her response as she nuzzled her head on top of Ana's.
"If only Coco thought that." She responded with a sigh.
"I wish you would stand up for yourself. She shouldn't treat you like that." Anastasia yawned through her words, eyes glowing as she focused on the candles that decorated her desk.
Mallory smiled softly as she spoke. "I'll survive. She's not that bad once you get used to her."
Lifting her head, Ana tucked a brown curl behind her ear as she chuckled. "God, how long have we been down here? I'll never get used to that shrill voice of hers." She scoffed, causing the two girls to laugh as Mallory nodded at her words.
"Yeah, you're probably right." Looking towards the door, Mallory squeezed Anastasia's hand before standing. "I should probably head off to bed before Venable catches me."
Ana nodded in return, offering a sad smile at the departure of her friend. "Goodnight, Mal." The girl offered her a quick 'goodnight' as she quietly shut the door behind her.
Silence imploded the room once again. With a tired sigh, she stood up to place her book on her desk where she always kept it. But sometime felt different this time. She stood their oddly as a strange energy took over the room. She had the sudden urge to write again. Sitting down at the desk, she flipped open to a free page and placed the tip of her pencil on the paper. However, this time, her fingers wouldn't move. She closed her eyes in attempt to concentrate. It was there. She felt it. She could feel that image try and seep through her mind. Although, it felt different. It didn't really feel like an image. More like... a name?
She sat there for several minutes as she tried to force her fingers to write out a name, but for the first time in months, nothing was being wrote out on the paper. "I don't understand." She breathed as she leaned back into her chair, dropping her pencil on the book. She felt like she was being drained of her energy, the thought so potent in her mind it begged to be sketched onto the paper. Maybe I'm trying to hard, she thought. Surely, that had to be it. After all, her day had been rather eventful. She was probably just tired. Who wouldn't be when it was spent judging every single one of Gallant's outfits? He had been set on giving the girl a fashion show.
Standing from her desk, she blew out the candles that littered her room and situated herself into her rather large bed. She stared at the ceiling above her, her thoughts running miles. She tried hard not to let her hopes run high, but maybe this meant her memory was coming back? It was far fetched, given it was just a minor feeling, but she couldn't help it. She was so desperate to find her life again, to know it.
Pushing her thoughts into the deepest parts of her mind, she buried her face in the purple sheets and forced herself to sleep.