EIGHTEEN

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─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───

                                sometime in 2039

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                                sometime in 2039

─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───

         THE NEXT HANDFUL OF MONTHS — how much time actually passes is completely beyond Evelyn — is a daze of days bleeding into one another and nights where she disconnects from reality, watching the world pass through the narrow window at the top of the wall in front of her. She is in a fleeting state of mere existing, held captive in a small room, a fucking storage room. Brought out only when the rattlers want her. Just like the others girls. She's seen them a couple times when she's caught a glimpse of the outside. Pretty girls, weeping sometimes in the night, in the distance.

         She may have spent years in training but she's still a small girl, not as strong as she would like to think. Not compared to these guys. At first she does fight it, managing to pretty badly scar one of, apparently, their prized snipers and damaging his right eye forever. A win, maybe, but she didn't love being put in what was essentially a solitary confinement as punishment. That was however the last time she saw Abby, passing her by as she was working in the gardens and some guards were pulling Evelyn away.

After that, Evelyn quickly realizes that she is no match for the rattlers and those fucking guys. And no matter her resistance in the beginning, she eventually stops trying and gives in. Fighting back brings her something worse, so she stops.

          She hasn't seen Abby in months. Or Lev, for that matter. She's overheard of a supposed try at an escape. It didn't seem to end so well and she genuinely, truly, fears that they might actually be dead. These fucking guys are well and truly the worst group of people Evelyn has ever met; genuine fucking sadists. Laughing as they feed their human dolls to chained up clickers. Laughing at her pain, sometimes.

She has lost hope. For a long while, she tried to keep hope up. Hoping that one day her chance at escape would come, that Abby would waltz in right through that door and pick her up, leading her right to Catalina island and the future they dreamed of together. But as time has passed and she has grown thinner, weaker and weary from lack of food, movement and all of the assault; that hope had faded away. She thinks back to Seattle.

         She never loved that place. Only the people. They're all probably dead now, and she misses that place more than anything. Though she loves Lev like family, she wishes that she could just go back to the way things were. In hindsight, the conflict against he seraphites didn't seem such a horrible thing after all. At least she was semi-safe, equipped with guns and surrounded by people who loved her — she lived more comfortably than she realized at the time. Living with a purpose she didn't like was better than living with no purpose at all, she has come to find.

AUGUST | Abby AndersonWhere stories live. Discover now