Chapter Text
The warmth of the sun, coming though the blinded window, makes me want to reach out and grab it. I can feel the carpet beneath me, it's rough and itchy which makes me wonder how it used to be. I wonder if they had soft carpets that you could lay on and think, think until it was time to sleep. Room 10, there were thirteen..? or maybe 14 steps from here to the stairs, and eight steps down the stairs. I can't really remember, I haven't been out in about a month and it's starting to show. My skin, once tan from the sun, is now ashy and gray. My eyebags get bigger and purplier every night and day that passes, and my body aches from laying down so much. I've heard all of my cassettes over a million times and walked from the carpet to the bed, from the bed to the bathroom and from the bathroom to the carpet. I half-know what is going on, she doesn't tell me much anyway.
It was another attack, another explosion or plan I'm not sure which, that made her lock me up again. It's been six months since, according to my mother, we ‘escaped’ the QZ. I miss my bed, my wrinkly books, and the comfortability of having a sense of order. My hair has gone without a haircut for six months and six weeks. It's so long that I can put it in a ponytail, my mother is too busy to cut it and I ,frankly, don't want to. My mother’s firefly pendant lays on the desk, part of me wants to chuck it in the bathroom and flush it away. Ever Since she told me she was going to make me a firefly, I've been wanting to rip the door open and leave. But I won't, I know I can't do that to her. She talks to me so excitedly about how life was back then, how much she misses it and how much she is willing to do to take it back.
I hear a scream, outside. Gunshots. I jump from the ground, looking around the room What the fuck was that? I think
I hear hurried steps..1..3..4..8..10……..14.
The door bursts open, mom. Her blonde hair is ashen with tiny burnt pieces, her eyes are watery staring right through me.
“We have to go.” she says, her face turning from worried to stern, she cleans her face as she walks over to her dresser. Grabbing weapons and maps quickly stuffing them in her bag. My hands start to sweat
“Where are we going now?” I ask
“Far. Fedra is here. Put on your shoes and pack your things. We have to go now.”
My heart starts racing, I obey and start packing everything I need, small knife, cassette tapes and my walkman, and an old first aid kit.
“Jude, pack this in my bag too,” she says, handing me one of her many homemade bombs.
“ -and make sure to grab my papers from the drawer. Be careful, they are important.”
“Alright” I nod at her
“I’ll be right back, I'll see what I can do to handle the situation. Stay here while I'm gone. Don’t open the door, don’t look outside and-”
“Make sure the gun is loaded and ready to shoot..” I finish
“yeah.” she says
She grabs her pendant, putting it on carefully like a prized possession.
“Hurry Jude”
She walks out with a gun in her hand.
I do as she says, i check the gun its loaded and ready to shoot. I open the drawer carefully putting the papers aligned and straight making sure they don't wrinkle.
I hear a louder commotion outside. Whatever had happened seemed to escalate to the point gunshots were being fired like crazy. I grab both bags and run outside, the one thing she told me not to do. I look around, my mother and other fireflies are being held down by FEDRA military. I don't know what I am doing, I just know I'm running to save my mom.
As soon as I reach to hold her, about 10 guns are pointed to me. They yell at me to get down, I do. I get down to my knees and look at my mom, she is beat up and barely conscious, I cry out to her telling her to wake up, but she only looks at me for a moment, holding my gaze to hers.
I look at all the other people and they are all looking at me. Someone else yells an order and suddenly they aren't looking at me anymore, they are all looking down at the people on the ground. They start shooting them. Screams and cries get so loud, I continue looking at her wondering why I am not dead yet, everything feels like a haze, like I cannot manage to scream enough. Her blood splatters all over my face. I'm sure I'm crying, I'm sure I'm screaming and I'm sure I'm trying to get away. Someone yanks my arm pulling me up. They ask me who I am, I want to tell them I'm her son, the son of the woman they just shot in front of him. I scratch and bite them, whoever they are, they push me to the ground and start yelling for orders. I kick them and run.
I think I got shot, I feel sharp pains everywhere. I can't tell if I’m hurt, my breath is ragged and panicked and my heart is racing like never before. I feel my heart is about to burst and my legs are about to break.
I run until I can't hear the screams anymore.
I know I'm far away enough when I no longer hear anything other than the sound of me crushing leaves and sticks as I run. I had to stop running every few minutes, choking on my lack of air trying not to collapse in exhaustion. I hold my chest trying to calm my heart, gritting my teeth with the pain in my legs. I feel for my shoulder making sure there isn't a hole there, I look back at my fingers and see blood. I lay my back against a tree and slowly sit down on the cool ground, I stare at my hand
How didn't I notice this? I think
I keep checking my body for wounds, though I find no bullet or hole, I'm sure I barely missed losing my left arm.
The pain starts coming back, the adrenaline is wearing off but I know I need to keep going, even if I'm slowing down. I hold my shoulder, pressing my palm against the wound to stop blood from coming back out.
I spot a few rundown buildings and a street, there are rusty cars covered with vines and dried leaves from the trees. I rush the best I can into one of the buildings, making sure to not make much sound in case someone or something is here.
I slowly hobble through the building making sure there isn't anything. Once I'm sure, I lock everything that can still be locked, rusted windows and brittle wooden doors. It looks like it used to be some sort of electronics shop, there are cables everywhere, empty boxes, and the front window is filled with old TV’s. There are bright stickers announcing sales and discounts.
I decided I should finally take a break. I sit down, my back against the old TVs. I open my bag and check everything inside, weapons, canned food, my walkman, first aid kit, my cassette tapes. I look at her bag. I stay there staring at it, i don't move or hear myself take a breath, i sit there and look at it. Wind comes in from a hole in the wall, I feel the cool sensation of it on my face, and feel the cooler sensation of wet blood on my face starting to dry.
Tears fall from my eyes, I clutch my bag letting out cracked gasps and then inhaling to do it all over again. I want to rip my bag, I want to rip hers, I want to rip my body until whatever I’m feeling stops. I cover my eyes, huddling my legs till my knees touch my chin, until I get too tired to go on