A soft groan leaves my lips as I sit down on my bed, muscles aching from the run I just recently got back from. Now that I'm no longer thinking about Amelia or the sentient zoms or grenades, I can feel the ache and soreness of the run catching up to me.
Hunger claws at my stomach, but I ignore it for the moment. Dinner won't be ready for another two hours anyways, plus I don't feel like walking out in the drizzling rain, even though my hair is already wet from the shower.
Instead I pull a blanket over myself, trying to suppress a yawn and ultimately failing. My eyelids flutter, but I don't lay down, even though I desperately want to. It's too early for me to sleep, and if I end up sleeping through dinner I will be seriously pissed off. After a run like that, even though I only came close to dying like, twice, which is less that normal, my stomach still growls hungrily, my body craving some type of nourishment because of the many calories I've burned.
So instead of lying down and trying to get some rest, I pull the blanket tighter around me, fingers curling into fists over the fact that I can never seem to get warm enough for my liking. And this, unfortunately, is something I can't blame on Van Ark's treatments. I'm just naturally cold, only finding the warmth I need when I'm pressed up to a warm person-usually a specific warm person who isn't in the dorms because he's conducting a supply run.
My thoughts come to a halt when I feel eyes on me, so I blink, slowly turning my head towards the bunk on the opposite side of the room.
Summer Swan sits on her bed, watching me with wide, waiting eyes. I simply cock a brow in surprise. I haven't talked to Runner Seventeen in months. I mean, we could be considered friends, vague friends, but the only friends I really have here is Sam, Maxine, Jody and Owen.
Taking my questioning gaze as an invitation, Summer stands, walking over to me with a grace that almost made her seem weightless.
But unlike everyone else here with me in the dorms, I've been trained to read body language. I'm rusty, my skills having dulled since my time in America, but I know a nervous runner when I see one, and Summer is most definitely nervous.
She sits down on my bed, and I scoot down to give her some room. Sea green eyes bore into my brown ones.
"Why is she here?"
Ah, so that's what this is about.
"She's not here for you, if that's what you're wondering," I answer in a low voice.
"Who is she?"
"She's an A.M.T.B. agent."
"I know that."
"And a Torrencer."
"I figured." She casts a glance around the room, making sure no one is listening in on our conversation. "But why is she here?"
"Because word of me and my heroics spread worldwide, apparently," I mumble. "Nicole apparently had a hunch it was me who was Runner Five, and managed to come all the way down here to see if she was correct, and she was. Now with Abel speaking of a cure, she wants to know more of it. Only problem is she can't say anything to anyone since we've not made any significant progress. Veronica's still studying semi-sentient zombies."
"Does she... does she know who I am?"
I blink. For a second, I hear Summer's accent slip, going from the British one she uses in front of everyone else to her original Louisianan one. It's so subtle I almost miss it, but I've learned her accent sometimes slips through when she gets nervous or afraid.
I understand her fear of a Torrencer showing up. She's a runaway. Unlike me, she wasn't authorized to leave by the Torrencers and then had false papers made so the A.M.T.B. wouldn't question where she'd gone. She'd ran off, saying she was someone she wasn't before booking it to Abel once she'd made it to England.
If she were to be caught, who knows what would happen to her?
"If she did, she probably would've done something about it already, don't cha think?"
She stays quiet for a moment. "Yes, I suppose so. Why's she so interested in you?"
Because she's my sister.
"Because she knew me back then. She knows just what I can do-well, what I could do back then. She doesn't know about my... enhancements. And right now her focus is on the cure, and how we may be able to attain it." I give her a small shrug. "She probably won't ever notice you unless you give her a reason to. Still, I would try to keep my distance if I were you. She's not exactly a fun person to be around."
"Yeah. I got that from the sneer on your face as you talked about her."
I don't say anything. Instead I just pull the blanket around myself tighter, angry that I'm still cold, almost shivering. Summer stays where she is, but I don't question it. She's not exactly bothering me by sitting on my bed, so I have no reason to ask her to leave. So we sit in an almost comfortable silence.
My eyelids begin to flutter shut again, lips parting to take in a steady breath as sleep tries to take me where I sit on my bed. But I force my eyes open, huffing and licking my dry lips. I need something to distract myself, keep myself awake until dinner. After that I can eat and go to bed, but for now I need to stay awake.
"Got a costume ready for Halloween?" I ask, and Summer looks at me with a raised brow, lips pursed in disinterest.
"No. Do you?"
I grin at her question, untangling myself from my blanket burrito I've made myself into and reaching under the bed, pulling out the small box I keep my clothes in. I pull out a pink and purple dress, eyes shining at how it sparkles.
"Where'd you get that?" Summer asks, eyeing the fabric.
"Jaime gave it to me before I came back home from London. He said he didn't have any use for and neither did the roller guards, so I got to have it."
"So you're gonna be a princess?"
"Not just a princess." Again I reach under my bed and pull out a long blonde wig. "It took me awhile to find one that's semi decent, but it works. We all sort of have to make due in an apocalypse."
"So you're gonna be... Sleeping Beauty?
I shake my head. "No, I-it's Rapunzel. Aurora's dress was just pink. But anyway, Penelope is going to be ecstatic. It's her favorite Disney princess. I mean, the dress isn't exactly like hers, but again, gotta make do with what you've got. I don't really wear makeup but I think-I think I can get Maxine or maybe Jody to help me with that since I didn't wear it before the apocalypse."
She nods, her eyes scanning over the dress and wig. "Have you tried it on?"
"Recently?" I ask.
"Mhm."
"No. I haven't tried this dress on in months. I've not any desire to, since... but I did try on the wig a few days ago. Fits pretty nicely, I think."
"So you haven't tried them both on at the same time?"
"No."
"So you don't know what they'd look like together?"
I blink. "Oh... no, I guess not." I stare at the dress and wig for a solid few seconds. "I think I should put them on, see how it looks."
"Excellent idea," Summer says flatly, and I flash her a look before grabbing my dress and wig and heading to the small changing rooms in the dorms.
I put on my dress, my tongue poking out of my lips as I frustratingly try to tie up the laces in the front, which almost make it look like a corset. Even with my skinny fingers I have trouble, but I manage after a few minutes. Then I simply tie my hair up into a bun and place the wig on my head.
It doesn't look exactly natural, for many reasons. One is that I don't have a wig cap, so little bits of brown poke from here and there, and the second is this wig isn't exactly the greatest one out there. The color is a bit too bright of a yellow, but it's the closest blonde wig I could find with the length I wanted for the character. And if I braid it and put flowers in it, people probably won't be able to tell how... not great the quality is.
I step back out into the dorms, my bare feet padding against the wood floor. Summer still sits on my bed, not seeming to be paying attention to much of anything. But when she looks up, she offers me closed lipped smile, eyes scanning me.
"Looks good."
I smile at the praise, but still I feel a bit awkward. I haven't worn an actual dress in awhile. I mean, I wear nightgowns, but most of the time I'm wearing running gear or jeans. Dressing for style isn't much of a thing anymore, and dresses are hard to do work in, even the work given to us in the township.
But I still like it. I still like the pretty dress and how flowing it is. Makes me feel pretty, almost. I haven't felt pretty in a very long time.
I play with the fabric quietly, relishing how soft it feels against my skin. I hum the tune of the Healing Incantation as my hands grip and fiddle with the purple fabric. I hope my kids will like the effort. I've been here three years already, but I've never actually done anything with Milo or Penelope for Halloween. And I do have a lot to make up for, considering I missed Christmas because I was under Moonchild's mind control.
I think about New Canton, and how they've been coping. I wish I could tell them it will get better, but I can't. I can't say such things when I'm still hiding, terrified of my own mind, my own forgotten memories.
I'm afraid of what will happen, how I'll feel if I decide to go through with the hypnosis. I don't know if I'll feel that happiness again. I don't want to. I don't want any more reminders of what she made me do, or what she did to me. I still miss it, from time to time. I still miss her. It's like it was a drug, and I'm trying to get clean, and they want to give me a taste of it again, as if that won't set me back on everything I've worked so hard for.
The dorm door opens with a creak, and I'm thankful for the distraction that pulls me back to the present. I've been losing myself into my mind too much. Thoughts of 'what if's sometime threaten to consume me. I fear that one day it will if I'm not careful.
Sam trudges into the dorms, looking exhausted. His hair and clothes are slightly damp from the rain, but he doesn't seem to care as he sits down on his bed with a sigh. Summer and I share a look.
"Everything okay, Sam?" Summer asks.
"Yeah, everything's fine," He says, voice slightly slurred. He rubs his eyes. "Nine and Two just nearly gave me a heart attack on a food supply run. That's all."
"Are we stressing you out too much?" I ask, only partially teasing. He chuckles.
"Five, I think it's part of your job description to stress me out." He glances over at the two of us, a lazy grin on his face, before going to slip off his jacket. A second later, with his jacket half off he does a double take, eyes wide as he stares at me. "What the hell?"
I laugh, my hand coming to cover my mouth in an attempt to seem less obnoxious. "What? Do I not look good as a blonde?"
He blinks, lips slightly parted as he looks me up and down. "Why?"
"It's my Halloween costume," I reply. "I've tried on the dress and the wig separately. Summer suggested I try them both on now, just to see how it looks. What do you think?"
He doesn't say anything for a long time, and I shift my weight from one foot to the other. Does it look bad? If so, why did Summer say otherwise? I mean, it's not like she actually cares about my feelings.
"It's supposed to be Rapunzel, from that Disney movie that came out about a year before the apocalypse happened," I explain, although I'm sure he already knows. "Uh, the dress isn't an exact copy, and the wig isn't great, and I couldn't find any green contacts for the eyes, but-"
"I've seen you with green eyes. Brown suits you better," He interrupts, and my eyes widen a fraction.
"Are you talking about Chrysalis?"
He nods. "Yeah. I think I prefer the original Abel version over the New Canton one."
"Wasn't Chrysalis older than Five though?" Summer asks. "So wouldn't that mean she's the original?"
"Cameron was older than both of us," I say. "I mean, there might be more doppelgängers out there that I don't know about, but Cameron's the original if we're going by age. And she had blue eyes."
"Fine, I'd rather have the new and improved version then," Sam says, rolling his eyes and letting out a huff. His annoyed scowl quickly melts away when I laugh.
"I may be the newer version, but I'm not so sure about improved. Thanks for the compliment though. Still, what do you think about the costume?"
He gives a half shrug, his hand coming up to give a 'so-so' signal. "The dress is nice-really pretty, actually, but the wig's a bit..."
"Long?"
"Eh." He stands and walks over to me, grabbing a small strand of the blonde hair, lips pursing as he runs his fingers over it, eyes sliding up to meet my own. "It's just not your best color."
My face falls. "Oh."
"I-It's not-you don't look bad or anything," He says quickly, taking notice of my disappointment. He rubs his arm awkwardly. "It's just, um..."
His hand reaches up, fingertips skimming across my forehead, stopping just as he reaches the wig. Sam looks to me for permission, and I slowly nod. He carefully takes the wig off while using his other hand to gently pull my hair out of its bun. He gives me a lopsided grin.
"Yeah, brown suits you better."
I look at my own hair, and smirk. "'Did I ever tell you I had a thing for brunettes?'"
He blinks. "What?"
"It's-it's from the movie. Flynn said that to Rapunzel after her hair got cut off. I could probably quote that entire movie, in all honesty. With how many times I've had to tell it to Penelope. But yeah, I know it's not the best costume out there, but at least I'm going something this year."
He nods. "Yeah. Yeah. But you do make a good Princess Rapunzel. The wig is just... not great. But you'd make a good Princess Five if that's what you decided to be."
"Princess Five?" I scoff. "As interesting as that sounds, I don't think I could handle having people bow before me. Plus I'm not exactly a leader. I think I'll stick to being just... Runner Five."
His grin remains. "That's fine with me. I mean, 'just Runner Five' is Abel's greatest runner, and could be the key to finding out more stuff on the Edda, if you're willing to do the whole hypnosis thing."
I flinch, my mood souring instantly. I scowl and snatch the wig out of Sam's arms, taking a step away from him. He straightens in surprise, hands instinctively reaching out to me, but I take another step back.
"I should probably change back into my normal clothes." I say, shoulders tense. "Wouldn't want anything to happen to such a pretty dress before I can show it off."
I place the wig back under my bed and grab my clothes, heading back into the changing room. The door clicks shut, and I throw off my dress and put back on my normal wear. I have to fight the urge to put my fist through the mirror.
My fingers flex and unflex, and I rest my forehead against the cool glass. Why? Why? Why did he have to mention that? Why did he have to bring up the hypnosis? We were having a good conversation. A normal conversation! Why did he have to...
I sigh, wondering why I'm asking myself such a stupid question. I know exactly why he's wondering about this.
Paula. He's asking because of Paula. She's dying and my memories may be the only way to find a cure in time to save her. He's asking because he cares about her, and I... I should be willing to go through with this because I care about her. I care about a cure. I shouldn't have to take time to think about this. I should already have my mind made up.
But I don't.
I'm scared. I'm scared of what I'll become, what I'll feel, what I'll remember if we open that door. What if I lose myself again? What if I lose myself to those memories, to that feeling? I don't know if I can put myself through that again. I don't know if I'm strong enough to pull myself back to the present if I'm sucked under.
I'm willing to die for Abel. I always have been.
But am I willing to risk losing my sanity for it?
I look into my mirror's gaze. The eyes staring back at me are mine-my mind. But how long will I have that? Tears well up on my eyes, and I blink rapidly to keep them from spilling over.
She's still there. Moonchild is still inside me, deep down in those dark corners of my mind. I still hear her sometimes. It's not the same with the people in New Canton, no, but she's still there. I see her in my dreams. She's there-touching me, holding me, digging herself under my skin. Just because I'm not a quivering mess like Bernard or Saeed doesn't mean I'm fine.
Why don't they get that?
After making sure my face looks dry, I leave the changing room, not looking Sam or Summer in the eye. I put my dress back into its box under my bed while I ignore the cold shiver that runs up my spine at the eyes that are on me.
"Five, are you okay?" Sam asks, quietly, hesitantly.
"Of course I am," I reply. The words are stale and weigh heavy in my mouth. I force myself to meet his slightly worried gaze, offering a tight smile. "I'm always fine."
He flinches. It gives me a good two seconds to think of an excuse to leave.
"But I'm gonna go read my Bible in the worship area are until dinner. I mean, there's really not much else for me to do today, and I haven't been as consistent as I need to-"
My words cut off when I reach under my pillow, expecting to feel a leather cover, but only feeling clean sheets.
"What the..."
I grab my pillow and pull it off my bed, eyes going wide when I see that it's not there.
My Bible is gone.
"Get off my bed," I command at Summer, ignore her confused look as I scramble around, checking under the sheets, under the bed itself, in between the bed and the wall.
Nothing.
Panic starts to seep in, and I feel my skin start to grow hot, my chest tightening to the point that it's almost painful to breathe.
"No. No. No. No," I murmur, scrambling around.
"Five, what's the matter?" Sam asks. His eyes swirl with concern, but I don't care.
"I can't find it. I can't-I cant find my Bible." I take in deep, gasping breaths, fresh tears springing to my eyes, but for different reasons that a few minutes ago. "Has anyone seen my Bible? It's the King James Version!"
I hear a chorus of 'no's from the few people in the dorms, and I sway on my feet, fear pulsing through my veins. I'm so hot. I can't breathe. I have the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry.
"No. No. I have to-I have to find it!" I panic, and Sam steps towards me. His hand hovers just above my shoulders, as if he's unsure whether or not he should touch me.
"Do you think you left in the coms shack?" He asks, and I frantically shake my head.
"I haven't taken it outside the dorms in weeks." My voice cracks on the last word, and Sam looks absolutely heartbroken.
"Do you think someone took it?" Summer asks. Her eyes are wide, almost a bit fearful. I think there's a spark of concern there.
"Why would they? I'd happily let someone borrow it if they-if they just promised to give it back," I say, my hand coming up to put pressure on my screaming chest. It hurts so bad, this sudden pain. It feels like I'm dying.
"Five, breathe. We'll find it, but need you to calm down and breathe," Sam says, placing his arm in my shoulder.
"I-I can't," I gasp out, the pain spiking, suddenly becoming too much. A sob escapes my lips as my knees buckle. I grab onto Sam in attempt to say upright. He sways at the sudden weight, but doesn't fall. I gasp, trying to stay in reality as a voice, one I remember but can't recognize swirls in my head.
I clutch into Sam harder, trying to stay grounded. He winces as my nails dig into his skin.
But my attempts are futile. I still hear the ringing voice. I know him, but at the same time I don't.
"Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying I will use this loaded gun on you. I'm just saying there's a chance my finger might slip on the trigger if you try that again, so maybe you should take a step or two back."
What?
"I wonder what will get you killed faster-your loyalty or your stubbornness."
What's happening?
"...we can discuss my trustworthiness after we get you out of here."
Who is this man?
"You can call me... Peter."
"Five!" Sam yells, and I gasp, feeling as if I haven't had breath since the voices started. Something is shoved into my hands. I look down through blurry eyes.
My Bible.
"It was under a different bunk bed," Summer scoffs. "Next time take a minute before you have an anxiety attack. Now clean yourself up. Dinner should be read within the hour and you look like a mess."
•
I push my food from one side of my plate to the other. I've only taken a few bites from my plate. My appetite died when... basically as soon as I came out of the changing room.
My chest still aches, but the stabbing, spiking pain is gone. Sam yelled at Summer for being so harsh, even though I know she's right. My Bible does mean a lot to me, but it's unlike me to freak out over something like that. But that vision that my anxiety attack invoked scares me more than anything.
Peter... where have I heard that name before? Where have I heard that voice before?
There aren't any Peters in Abel-none that sounded like this Peter. This vision... his voice was slightly husky, and had a certain charm to it. I can feel the embers of something swirl within my chest, a pain I can't describe. I've heard Peter before, but I can't remember if it was in the real world or simply in my own mind.
I groan, burying my face in my hands. This is all becoming too much for me. I need something-someway to relieve this tension. I need something I can do that won't require me to think.
My skin itches, my ears are ringing from the surrounding voices in the dining hall, and a blistering heat burns in my muscles. Pushing my plate away, I stand, not bothering to bring it to the dish tray. It takes everything in me not to bolt away from here, but I get out looking like I have most of my sanity intact.
I head for the training area.
I don't go on the track. Running isn't what I need right now. The burning hunger in my muscles and heat in my abdomen won't be sated by running. No. I want to hurt something.
And unfortunately, because of my options, that something is going to be me.
So I head to the punching bag, not bothering to bandage my hands. With hands curling up into fists, I swing. My knuckles hit the bag, and I hiss at the pain that shoots up my hand, adding to the ache in my chest. I welcome it.
I swing again, and again, the bag moving slightly. I don't care. I just keep swinging, gritting my teeth as my knuckles start to bruise. The pain doesn't stop the voices, nor does it stop the itching and burning within my skin and bones. It does, however, appease it.
"I wonder what will get you killed faster-your loyalty or your stubbornness."
I hit the bag harder, more of his words weaving through my mind-new words.
"You really shouldn't be so trusting. The world is a dangerous place."
They burn pleasantly in my mind, and I taste honey and metal in my mouth as I hear my own response.
"Probably not the smartest thing to say since you want me to trust you."
He growls. "Oh, I like you."
"Follow through with our deal and I might just say the same."
I hit the bag again and again, anger and pain and emotions I can quite pinpoint spurring me on. I don't ignore the pain in my hand. I relish in it, because finally, finally, my mind is beginning to clear. The pain drives out the darkness. It drives it far from my mind, and with every hit I make, a grunt of relief leaves my mouth.
Each hit becomes harder, faster-the blunt pain traveling up my arms. I wince, squeezing my eyes shut for a brief moment before seeing the punching bag swinging back towards me.
I taste honey and metal once more, as my voice echoes in my ears.
"Yeah, this right here is exactly why you can't do stupid shit that will get you killed!"
"You're... y-you're..."
"Yeah, I am. And it wasn't my choice! You wanted this, but I didn't! So now you're gonna have to suck it up and survive this because I... you can't leave me here alone!"
The sound that leaves my lips is close to a roar. My right fist makes contact with the punching bag, and there's a snap as the chain breaks, the bag flying across the room. My chest rises and falls rapidly, and I sink to my knees, cradling my bruising knuckles.
A whimper leaves my lips when I look at my hands, seeing how swollen they are. But the voices are appeased for now, as is the darkness that lurks in my mind, the monster that now lives there thanks to Moonchild.
I'm okay. I'm okay for now.
"Mum?"
My head snaps up, my heart stopping in my chest at the sight of wide eyes, horrified at what they've just seen.
"Milo."
A/N: Here you go, guys! As you can see, Five is clearly not over all the terrible things that happened to her. How do you feel about her coping methods? Please be sure to vote and comment. Thank you and have a blessed day!