Project Meyburn

12

Amber

I laid in my bed for three whole days after the shooting. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't move.

I couldn't breathe.

The gunfire rang in my head over and over and over, like unrelenting thunder during a storm. And even though I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I couldn't push the image away no matter how hard I tried.

He was an innocent man. Just like any one of us here at Rushmore. Yes, his infection by the Meyburn virus had been severe, but they could have healed him. They should have tried.

And I couldn't let it go.

When we had gotten back to our room that afternoon, I had run to the bathroom and thrown up the contents of my hearty breakfast while Megan explained to Morgan and the girls what we had seen...and heard. Without a word I had dragged myself into bed, and stared and stared and stared at the wall. I ignored the stinging in my eyes, even as I felt tears drip down my face. I ignored everything.

Megan stayed by my side the whole time, either sitting on the floor beside my bed or climbing to the top of the bunk to her own. Yesterday she had attempted to get me to talk about boys and-or books, but I remained silent, with my body buried under my quilt. When I awoke this morning, I continued to clutch the blanket Megan had given me and stared at the wall some more.

I knew Megan had been haunted by it too. She just hid it better than I did. But I heard her quiet sniffles in the middle of the night. These past two nights, actually. After she told the story the first time, she did not bring it up again. But the words hung in the room like a thick fog, affecting every girl in a different way. Some moved on with their lives as if nothing had happened—which I do not blame since they had not seen it themselves. Others like Ruby and Kelly had put their hands over their mouths in shock. They didn't know what to make of it, and neither did I.

But there was one thing I did know: I was angry.

Holding on to that fiery energy, I decided to roll over. Megan sat on the floor in her usual spot against the wall reading a book. Her face glowed with makeup, concealer dotting her red-rimmed eyes while mascara and highlighter did the rest. She looked okay, and if Megan was okay, then I knew I could be okay too.

Megan looked up from her book upon noticing my movement. Her face instantly softened. "Hey girl, how are you doing?"

"I—um." A swell of emotions towered over me and my throat threatened to close. But I was done crying. "I'm alright, I think," I rasped.

"Megan why don't you go down to the cafeteria and grab Amber water and some dinner," Morgan said from her bunk across from us. When Megan opened her mouth in what looked to be a not-so-nice response, I quickly told her that that was a good idea. Morgan flicked her chin toward the door, and Megan made her way out with nothing more than a slight roll of her eyes, thankfully.

"Thank you!" I called right as she slid the metal door shut. I had not realized it was already past dinnertime, and my stomach growled in anticipation.

Morgan stood up and mussed her voluminous black hair between her fingers before taking up Megan's seat on the floor next to my bed. She wore a pair of ripped blue jeans and a white T-shirt with the word Stronger printed on it in loopy, black letters. A simple, silver stud rested on the side of her nose.

She gazed at me intently, as if she were sizing me up. Heat immediately bloomed in my cheeks.

"Look, I know what you two saw was not an easy thing to digest," she said carefully.

My gaze traveled around the room, noticing that it was mostly empty, save for two other girls playing a card game at a two-person square table.

"We didn't actually see it, but..." My voice trailed off.

Morgan replied, "But you know what I mean."

The beginning of a nasty headache bloomed in the back of my head. I really was not in the mood to be lectured about whatever it was Morgan had to say. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and pulled my duffel bag out from underneath it. I rummaged through my clothes, settling on black leggings and a matching black hoodie with Pikachu on the front.

Morgan continued as I changed, " I don't know why they did that. It wasn't right. But I have a feeling that they are going to keep doing it, for our sakes."

"I know that."

"Good." She gave a curt laugh, her hair swaying against her shoulders. "Amber, I've seen my fair share of shit in this life, and I find that it is easier to handle it if you just take it all in stride and go with it."

I turned around at that. "They just shot an innocent man and you're telling me to 'go with it?'"

She stood up and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. Who was she to think she knew how all this worked? A black band looped around her pointer finger, along with a cluster of faint scars snaking down the back of her hand. I concluded that she had to be at least seventeen or eighteen. "I'm telling you to use it. Use the fear, or pain, or whatever you're feeling to keep you going. To give yourself a purpose. It's when you stop feeling that you know you've failed."

My eyebrows furrowed. I was not expecting such wise words from her. I nodded in understanding, not sure how to respond, and she took that as her cue to leave. I watched her pluck her book and phone off of her bed and head to the door. "Oh, and don't bother trying your phone. There's no cellular connection anywhere in this damn building."

After she left I sat down on the floor and found my own phone in my bag. The lock screen flashed before me with at least five government issued alerts. As soon as I typed in my passcode, an error bubble popped up, confirming Morgan's statement.

Leaning my head against the cool, metal bed frame, I waited for Megan to return with my dinner. Use it to keep you going. Right then and there, I promised myself I would be stronger. I would be strong for those who couldn't. I would be strong for my parents, whether I saw them again or not, and I would be strong for those who were sick. Because from what I have learned from my time at Rushmore so far, no one survives very long with the Meyburn virus.

But regardless of my new vow, I still could not shake the feeling that something about this whole situation was very wrong.