Mother Earth.

Chapter 10: These Tears Aren't For Me.

Svivla Falla.

Inner sector of Wanderer's Checkpoint,

The year 2168.

"Not again."

Suffocating roaring footsteps all amplified by the screaming plaguing every desperate thought, like a poison breaking down every atom in his mind. His legs ached and burned trudging through the crowd, shoving past people like blockades and locked doorways all meant to prevent him from reaching the one thing he wanted to prevent-

Only for them to succeed.

"Not again."

Svivla stopped to breathe by an opening in the narrow road of the crowd. He looked right, into an alley full of the garbage left by the wasteful practices that riddled Wanderers Checkpoint, and the world. The stench invaded and violated his nose. Someone was jittering in a seizure, clasping his stomach, trying to stand again. At his feet was a pink sleeve with a splatter of blood soaking it, the pink sleeve of her shirt.

"No..."

"Not again."

It was as if the crowd disappeared from the world, the man struggling to control his convulsing body beside him, hell none of that existed anymore, it was only that piece of pink fabric.

"In all my time being alive, I've lived to be a better, kind person. I want to be a place of warmth, so I can protect those near me no matter the price. Create a world where no one hurts each other..." Svivla knelt down as he thought, picking up the fabric in his hands.

"Create a world where love doesn't have to make hate, where no one hurts or kills anybody-"

He rubbed at the rough fabric with his thumb as the white noise choked him with every passing thought.

"A world where I don't have to hurt or kill anybody. That's what I've been telling myself ever since that night..."

Ingrid's warmth held him gently as she embraced him, feeling her breath on his shoulder once again in her room. Her kiss that he could never get enough of. A love story that only they cared for, their love story that was taken from him too soon-

But when is it ever not too soon?

"Ever since that night."

***

Svivla Falla.

Oslo: Norway,

The year 2023.

8:00 am. That's what the clock said on the top left of his phone screen. The sun was already bright in the sky, already getting higher. It was a cloudy day, and the fresh dew on the grass and leaves filled his nose as he walked along the newly paved sidewalk. Beautiful as this morning was, the world couldn't have been duller. Colours blended together into mud as the clouds covered the sun, and he just looked down at his stained Converse shoes. Svivla sighed deeply.

He clicked on the messaging app. It opened to his and Ingrid's conversation.

'Hey, am I good to come over?'

That was sent a week ago, the day after Senior prom.

'Love, are you alright?'

Sent six days ago.

'Baby, I'm worried. What is going on? Give me something, please.'

Sent five days ago.

'I'm coming over, everyone is worried about you'