breaking chaos

chapter 3 is to be alive

"Fire has always been easier. It's easier to use."

"Of course the destructive one of the group is the one you find easiest."

"Fire isn't all that bad. When you think about it. All of them are equal, you know, water, air and fire and stuff it's balance."

"How so?"

"Do you really want me to describe all the ways I could kill people with water or air?"

Simon sighs deeply, lifting one of his test tubes into the air and into the light, " I don't doubt your mind is... Creative with that sort of them. I trust your opionion when it comes to murder."

"I am the expert."

"Am 'a'expert" he corrected lightly, "your not alone in your expertise."

Brooklyn looks over the table reading the labels, she's asked over and over and over again what he's doing. He never has a awnser.

"You need to eat more " simon gestures to her forgotten dinner.

Without even looking at him she responds rather childishly "you need to eat more."

"Your leaning on the line of underweight. If you want to feel weak and sick then fine, just means you won't go home."

No bullshit with Simon. He doesn't care. Brooklyn wished she could be like that. Disinterested and disconnected. Deep down shed always been curious and caring. Not caring for the people so much as the things.

The forgotten toys left under beds and behind closets, the spiders crushed and killed from fear. 

Brooklyn was always the person who gently took them outside, safe to the grass. Safe away from prying eyes.

Brooklyn has known the prices paid from the crime of being small.

"Your not even listening."

"No I wasn't."

"You need to eat more. I'm not your parent, you're a grown teenager, you know better."

Brooklyn says nothing, speaking about it makes it real. The guilt and sick feeling rising like bile in her throat.

Maybe she should have gone to therapy.

Simon watches her for a minute before going back to his science. It's quiet. Glass hitting glass, the scribbling of his pen. The creaking the wind caused. The scrapping of her chair when she stands. Jumper over her hands. Walking out of the room.
Walking all the way to a small room shed found exploring.

The small dark damp room made her stomach twist. It wasn't quite comfort, but a sense of  familiarity she aloud to twirl around her mind. It was an unsettling kind of peace. Like when your reading, and the author writes violence as adoration. Cannablism as love. When you relate to the brutality in a soft way.

Brooklyn felt cold. Numb even. Sick and tired. In the physical sense. Emotions were exhausting. Especially the loud ones. The gut reaching guilt that had seeped into her bones since she was able to walk. The anger that never  truly burned out. The longing that ached her muscles and never seemed to be filled. Wholes in her chest the size of people she weren't sure were alive or dead.

Grieveing people that were possibly alive wasn't something Brooklyn was unfamiliar with. She grieved for the father she was torn away from. For henrick who'd been dead inside for a while now, he was only pretending to be alive. For her mother, who's dream to be a mother is tainted by having Brooklyn as her daughter.

Brooklyn grieves herself too. She grieves young akilina who would be sickened by the thought of Brooklyn finding broken comfort in a room barley bigger than her old cell. In the same place she'd bleed her way out of.

Maybe that's where the biting frost came from. The freezing ice surrounding her. Her hands being the starting point. The frost had climbed the walls. Her breath was pure white puffs. A small light seeping through the layer of ice covering the door. The room had frozen over completely.

Brooklyn tilts her head as she stands admiring the sparkling ice.

She wasn't scared. She wasnt angry. She wasn't sad. She was curious.

That was untill she realised the layer of ice over the door. Then she was slightly annoyed.

___________

"What are you doing up?" Natasha asked the teenager. It was 3.24am. and Brooklyn was wrapped in a blanket watching TV.

"Couldn't sleep."

Natasha watched the TV, national geographic.

"Nala was kicked out of the pride."

"Hmm?" Natasha smiles amused at the concentration on her daughter's face.
Natasha walks into the kitchen, making tea. Bringing hers and a cup for Brooklyn she sits on the opposite side of the couch. Stealing some of Brooklyns blanket.

"Which ones Nala?"

7am sharp Bucky walks into the main room. Spotting the sleeping red head and the awake teenager. National geographic still playing, sea creatures floating around the screen.

"You missed some drama last night" Brooklyn says quietly.

"Really?"

"Nala got kicked out of the pride and then had kids, theres a new alpha lion. It's crazy."

"Sounds crazy"

___________

Brooklyn walks into the main room, having been asleep in her 'bedroom'. A big closet with a hospital bed.

Simon eating his breakfast.

Brooklyn walks past him, "where are you going?"

"Water from air."

Brooklyn walks into the big room.

Fire, done.
Ice , some.
Water.
Water.
Water.

How is water energy?

How is ice or cold energy?

It was all a little confusing. Maybe it's not energy exactly but that makes it easier. Maybe it's just about feeling it and pulling it out into the light.

The room was so damp you could feel it in your lungs.

That's why Simon picked it.

Thick damp air.

She zeroed in on the way it felt breathing.

The door behind her opened, "breakfast, you can do this later."

She ignores him, feeling the drops in the air.

"Brooklyn!"

"What!" She snaps, turning her head around. "What do you want?!"

Simon looked stunned. As she turned around, Simon saw the water surrounding her hand, losing it and turning around it had dropped to the ground. Laying in a puddle at her feet.

"Well?"

Simon gestures to the ground, confused she glances down, not having realised she'd done it.

She shrugged casually. "It's not that hard to figure out." Like she hadn't been trying for two weeks.

"Why didn't you do it two weeks ago then?"

"I was getting warmed up." She jokes.

Simon shakes his head at the pun. "Do it again."

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"I've proformace anxiety." Brooklyn leaves the puddle on the floor walking back towards the main room.

"Where are you going now?"

"Breakfast."

A/n

Brooklyn is so Ethel Cain coded it's not even funny.

That and "always and angle never a god" like ???????