As the Empire Began to Fall

There's room where the light won't find you

Note: for the song tears for fears or Lorde version works. Full title was supposed to be "There's room where tthe light won't find you, holding hands while the world comes tumbling down" but it was too long.

TW: discussion of suicide.

Star woke up in a bed, which, considering the night she had had, wasn't particularly odd.

It was similar in size to her own, though too soft and lacking her heavy purple quilt. But with how exhausted she was, tired down to her very bones, she didn't notice the discrepancies right at first and thought that everything had been a terrible, awful dream.

Her skull ached, as did her entire body. Her joints hurt and her muscles felt tense and strange, like someone had stretched them thin before shoving them haphazardly back into her skin suit. The pendant of her necklace dug into her collar bones, squished between her skin and the bed. She was lying on her stomach, her face buried deep into the pillow.

She heard a male voice, and instantly assumed it was Brose coming to check on her, like he typically did when she slept in too late on the weekends. She rolled over in her bed, groaning.

She heard someone come to stand beside her, their footsteps heavy and new, but her head hurt too much for her to open her eyes or register the unfamiliarity. She placed a hand on her forehead and grumbled, "Brose, will you hand me my water?"

Brose didn't respond, but when she reached a hand out, a cool glass touched her hand. She brought the glass up to her lips, still not opening her eyes. When she gulped a good majority down, she said, "I had to worst dream last night."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah—" Suddenly, the voice hit her. It wasn't Brose's. Or any of her brothers'. Definitely not her dad's. She opened her eyes, light piercing her cornea like knives. It took her a minute to adjust to the room she was in, realizing it was most certainly not her own. White hot panic coursed through her body.

The man standing in front of her wasn't much older than she was, maybe Brose's age or a bit older. He stood, towering above her, with raised dark eyebrows and inquiring green eyes, like she was the new scientific marvel of the week.

Star screamed and threw the water in his face.

He swore, and backed up, rubbing his eyes. Star held the glass defensively, ready to throw it at him and run.

"Who the fuck are you?" she demanded.

"Please don't throw that at me," he said, irritated. He wasn't from Osha. Star could tell by his accent. It was too pointed.

Star tightened her grip on the cup and it shattered. "Ow! Shit!" The glass clattered to the floor and blood began to well in the cuts that had formed on her hands.

"Here let me—" the man stepped forward.

"I will scream," she threatened. It was what her brother had always told her to say if a strange man came up to her.

"Go ahead," he said wryly.

She sucked in a mouthful of air, but when she went to scream, she found that it caught in her throat like a bubble, straining her lungs and esophagus. She choked, unable to breathe as her face went red and her eyes strained.

Almost as quickly as the feeling came, it went.

The man cocked his head. "Let's try that again," he said. "My name is Arlen. Yours?"