✘ : 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐥. 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 : ➞

12

𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙞'𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙤𝙪𝙩.
—

THIS IS THE last thing I'd thought would happen to me. I truly had an avatar of my own—now, I didn't have to be shackled inside, I could be my own person.

But, one thing bugged me.

Why now? Why, after all this time, tell me now? It stuck in my mind for hours. There has to be a reason.

I open my journal, and pick up my pen. Flipping the page, I rest my hand on the textured paper and inhale a deep breath.

All I write is,

Today marks the start of a new beginning. I don't know what is ahead of me, but I pray it is great.

"Hey, Esme." Max says. I look up, shutting the leather journal, and humming in response. "You should get some rest. Big day tomorrow." He winks.

I smile, and try to make it look sincere. Max shuts the door after muttering a soft—"Goodnight, kiddo."

I should be happy—no, I am happy. But.. something feels off. Something doesn't feel right.

The idea of linking to my mothers avatar feels strangely intimate. I never met my mother; do I even deserve to link to the avatar containing her looks, DNA and personality?

I think she would have wanted you to have this, Max's voice echoes in my head.

Would she, though?

Or would she be disgusted by the idea of a daughter who was the cause of her death connecting to an avatar she fought so hard to obtain?

Would she look down at me and feel disappointment? I did not get this avatar through honour, or respect or hard work. It was an heirloom—an heirloom that was not technically given to me.

It was given to me by default. The avatar would be a waste without me, right? That's all it was.

I wonder, sometimes, if she still feels love for me. I wonder, if she's watching from above, if she only feels resentment that I survived and she didn't.

I wonder if she regretted her pregnancy—she would be alive if it weren't for me, of course. Would she be here, in my place, and as a much better resource?

Maybe she would step in for Spider; be the mother Spider never had. I think Spider deserves that.

Maybe things would be better for everyone if I was never born, I think.

With a sigh, I rub my hand over my face. I drag myself toward my bed, still messed up from when Lo'ak intruded into my room, and flop into it.

I try not to think about my true meaning in this world. Instead, I think about the other night.

My body finally relaxes when I imagine Pandora. The AC blows on me just right that I can imagine it's the wind, and that I'm flying through the air without a worry in the world.

I smile, and drift off into sleep, hoping to dream more about the wonders of the outside world.
—
Hello? A voice echoes. Can you hear me?

My eyes open, and I expect to see my ceiling but instead I see a blinding light. When my eyes adjust, I see a woman in-front of me.

"Hello?"

It hits me that she isn't talking to me. She's talking to a radio, clutching a baby in her arms so tight I'm sure she'd suffocate it. She is on the floor, her face pale and eyes barely open.

When she lets go of the button, it is followed by static. "Fuck!" The woman yells in anger, throwing the radio across the room. It shatters against the wall.

The woman begins to cry. I want to move forward to comfort her, to tell her it's okay, but I can't move. I look down to my feet, hoping to see something in my way, but..

I see nothing. I'm not here.

"What the hell is going on..?" I whisper.

The woman turns back to the baby, tears streaming down her face. The baby is in agony, crying it's little lungs out.

"It's okay," The woman whispers, "I have you. You're okay."

The baby wails, clutching at nothing. The woman sighs.

Then, the woman shakily takes out a small, black device, and clicks a button.

I recognize it. It's an audio recorder—and it looks similar to the one I once saw in Max's desk before he locked the drawer.

"I don't know how much time I have," The woman says, "but it isn't much. Whoever is listening to this, I don't care who, don't try to save me. Please.. just save my baby."

I feel a tear of my own fall down my cheek. What a tragic scene this was.. but what did it mean?

"I'm dying," the woman sighs, "it's a lost cause for me. But my child, she.. she's special. You can't afford to lose her. Don't let her outside. She can't figure out who she is—not until it's time.

"On her sixteenth birthday, tell her. Tell her everything. Max.. if you're listening.. you know what to do."

A crash becomes audible at the side of the building. The woman winces, clutching the child tighter.

"I only have one request," the woman says. She is silent for a second, before she says, "name her Esmeray."