Space Egg

December 13th- I

   
    I expected to walk into another vast grey expanse. Instead, I found myself pausing, forcing myself to breathe. Any bit of breath in my lungs flew out the moment I laid eyes on the room before me.
    White marble sits beneath my feet. Slowly, methodically, my eyes travel up. Light dances around me, flitting through the many windows covering the walls. Marble pillars sit in each corner of the room, towering around me like sentinels watching the room. The walls are powder blue, pristine, and perfect, a far cry from the office I had just emerged from. Gold leaf lays gingerly over the wall's trim, covering any accents around us. Chandeliers encrusted in crystals catch the light, redirecting it in every which way. Four tables sit in the room, two on each side. All are marble-topped and intricately carved wood.
    "Breath." Keefie reminds me, tapping my shoulder.
    I try, but I'm entirely, for lack of better words, gobsmacked. The room is completely stunning, as far of contrast as possible from the cold, dank, and grey hallway I just escaped from.
I had seen the outside of the building, and yes, it was utterly stunning. But this? This was like walking into a different world. I had walked into a fantasy built out of my horrors. Every inch of the room was pristine, from the golden light falling over the room in a sheath of warmth to the hand-painted clouds adorning the ceiling.
The room had once been utilized as a ballroom. There was no other use for such an ample space so expertly crafted. Now, I wasn't sure what it was being utilized for—possibly an odd dining room, perhaps a cafeteria. Either way, I can't stop staring.
I had grown up in rural New York, farmland and sheep as our neighbors. My Mom had traveled far every day for work, and a preschool was a half-hour drive from us for me. After my Mom left, I moved in with my Aunt. Aunt worked in the heart of New York City, working her butt off to exist comfortably. She was a Hospice nurse, a Job that called her at any given time. It wasn't easy when I was young. Constant Baby sitters, constant daycare.
At first, I was terrified of Aunt. She had a funny way of dressing. She preferred an all-black outfit with a skull and crossbones rather than your average outfit. Mother had dressed in ethereal, flowing linen skirts and handmade sweaters. Aunt couldn't have dressed any differently, and this was new. New and I didn't quite get along. Sudden changes, changes of plans, and broken promises—these were all things that surely would have me in tears in seconds.
Moving from my Mom's large farmhouse to a small apartment in New York City couldn't have been a more enormous change. Suddenly, silent nights changed to nights filled with cries and sirens. Constant light flashed outside my window, and suddenly, I was in a new school. Everything was new. Everything was terrifying. I was struggling with the trauma of the indecent and the court proceedings, and still, my Aunt carved out the time for me.
We no longer live—or I suppose we lived for me—in the same apartment I had first visited. We moved quite often. As of now, we had just moved to the city outskirts, scoring cheap rent on a ground-floor apartment even with its own yard. This yard had been glamorous, something I never thought I would have.
And now? Now I was standing in a manor, every surface burnished with gold, the ground a solid marble slab. And I was being told that this was my home. That I was going to live here. It was beyond me, completely and utterly out of my scope of thought.
"It takes a while to get used to." Keefie nods, clearly reading my face. "It took me a while when I first moved here, but I swear it does happen."
I pull at the skin of my lip, red coating the tips of my fingers where blood had stained them. I wasn't sure I would even be able to get used to this. Not this place, these people, or the games they played. I wasn't good at seeing what needed to be seen. I dug, looking under the surface at the secondary information. Here, that would fare me well.
"What is this place?" I can't help but ask, looking around me.
"The house of Salvio." Keefie confirms, "Headquarters, offices, training, school, safety, and salvation for people like you."
I gauche at his words. "Salvation? Is that what you call this?"
    His hands fidget at his knife, the leather pale where his fingers sat. "I know it doesn't feel like it, and I'm sorry. I am—my Boss- Dad. My Dad isn't the fuzziest, but Kaz and others are good here. They'll take care of you until it's safe for you to go home. And until then, well, I hope things get easier."
His words sound and feel sincere. And yet, I can't help but feel I was here for more than my protection. Whether Keefie knows it or not.
"Classes are out right now," Keefie finally said, breaking a growing silence. We began to walk forward, leaving that grey hallway behind. My feet felt cold against the marble, and I was still wearing my old purple walrus socks. Each step was a new chill against my skin.
"There's around 100 students, maybe less. We're all, erm, specially trained. We learn Important skills to keep Salvio moving forward in the future."
I can only assume what those skills were. Keefies ease with a gun and knife made it blatantly obvious. Salvio built an army of highly trained workers to take over the Salvation. They were building the "perfect" leaders.
"No chance I'm being 'specially' trained to protect myself, is there?"
    Keefies lips quirk up apologetically. "No chance."
    My hands pull at the sleeve of the plain black shirt I had been provided. "I Didn't think so."
    A thread of the shirt sleeve falls loose, falling to the floor. "Will I be given clothing and shoes?" I ask, quite frankly embarrassed I even have to ask that question.
    Keefie nods his head. "You'll get a school uniform and some leisure clothes. Your roommate, Aida, will have them for you later tonight. She'll bring you new shoes as well."
    My heart skips at the word roommate.
    "My what."
Keefie suppresses a smile when he sees my panic-stricken face.
    "Oh, don't give me that look," he chuckles, "Aida's great. And if you think I could protect you, you haven't met Aida. All I can say is don't get on her bad side. I know from experience." His eyes twinkle with something I don't yet know. "She's going to love you."
    Despite my best efforts, I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or earnest.
    "So, are you locking her in as well?" I can't help but ask, hoping that threat was just a scare tactic.
    "She's got a key." Keefie apologies, grimacing. His fingers tap restlessly at the hilt of his knife.
    "Is Celph punishing me?" I ask, the thought dawning on me. "He wasn't too happy that I ran."
    "A lot of people weren't," Keefie said quietly, approaching the large arched doorway of the room. Except there are no doors. Just an archway intricately carved into the walls, large enough to fit at least two school buses side by side. It's one of the most ornate things I have ever seen. This whole place was. No detail had gone unnoticed. Sconces dance along the room's walls, perfectly spaced but now dim. The windows lit the room so spectacularly that there was no need for artificial light this time of day.
    I realize now what he was referring to when I look out into the large hall outside the arch. Two people stand talking, a boy and a girl. The boy's face is familiar despite the lack of blood dripping down it. He was the guy I had kicked in the face when I tried to run.
    "I didn't mean to hurt him," I think aloud, the words barely leaving my mouth before I realize they were wrong. "I did, but I did it for the right reasons. I thought you- no, these people would hurt me." The words stutter out of my mouth, flustered when the boy looks at me, his face anything but pleased, and a bruise gracing his cheek.
"And that's why we won't be training you." Keefie laughs. "We don't need you learning how to judo flip someone."
    "But maybe I should learn?" I try, knowing it's a futile attempt. "Wouldn't it be better if I could protect myself rather than being babysat all the time? It makes more sense."
    "Oh, trust me," Keefie sighs. "I completely agree. But as you sit right now, you will have to work for my Dad's trust. He won't let you out of anyone's sight for a long time."
    My fingers twitch to my lips, no skin left to pull away nervously.
    "Hey," Keefie pulls my hand away from my face, staring me dead in the eyes. "You do that when you're nervous. I promise everything is going to work out."
He had been observing my habits; if anything, this only made me grow more nervous. "I don't care about any of this," I throw my arms outward to the room. "I care that I don't know what the heck is going on. I care that I don't even know why I'm here."
    "You're here for safety and protection," Keefie assures, stepping out into the hall. "Plus, the beach is great. And so are the dorms. But... well," he pauses, looking unsure if he should say anything more.
    "Spit it out." I groan, fearing the worst.
    "The food." Keefie breathes in a hushed voice. "It's nasty. Don't touch the scrambled eggs if you want to survive this place, and don't take the Alfredo sauce. You'll never leave the bathroom again. Most importantly, the hash. We don't know what is in that stuff. It looks like an accumulation of raw beef, green beans, and something fuzzy."
    I feel a sigh of relief leave my chest. He was only poking fun at Salvio.
    "I'll be sure to remember that." I groan, wrinkling my nose at the thought of the hash. "Fuzzy hash." I think aloud, shaking my head at the thought. Keefie laughs, the sound somewhat easing my nerves.
    I stare around us as we walk forward, the hall encasing us glamorously ornate. It runs from North to South, with a door on the North side. Rooms run along the hall, all hiding behind closed doors. We walk south, following the hall to who knows where. The hall is nearly as intricately decorated as the rest of the building, the walls now pale lilac. Gold sconces follow us, slowly lighting around us as we move away from the brightly lit windows of the main hall. Velvet and wooden sofas sit outside each doorway as if a spot to wait before something begins—classes I clock. The rooms were classrooms.
The air smells vaguely like a museum, something pungent and vinegary while still floral. It must be some preserving medium, I'm sure.
"The girl's dorms are right up a stare case over there," Keefie points to our right. "Strait is the library, and the boy's dorms are to the left. A common room back a little way with a smaller arched door. Each dormitory has its common rooms as well."
I look to our right, seeing a staircase leading upwards, winding as it goes. Windows sit at each landing of the stairs, diminishing the need for lights. The other staircase mimics this, leading to a perfect entryway between the two stairways.  The library is between the two, inset in shadow. I can barely make out the inside beside the faint glow of a flame.
"I'll be right there," Keefie points to the first landing of the stares, "At 8:00 tomorrow morning. Elda will let you out of your dorm, and I'll show you your classes. We're sharing most."
My hands itch to pull at my lip, but I refuse now that Keefies noticed my nervous habit.
His face quirks, giving me a nod. "Up the stairs, third dorm to the right."
    My hands clutch at the sleeves of the black sweatshirt, hiding my quivering frame. I wasn't scared of what sat at the top of those stairs. I was afraid of what sat beyond this moment in my life. I was scared of what was yet to come.
    "You got this." Keefie nudges forward, giving my shoulder a pat with a reassuring smile.
I slap away his hand, squaring my shoulders. "Quit reassuring yourself, blond boy. You're going to worry a hole through your knife."
He looks down at his hand, where, sure enough, he's squeezing the knife's hilt like there's no tomorrow. "Just trying to give some motivational advice." He jokes, snatching his hand away from the knife.
    "I don't think I'm the one who needs it," I mutter, despite knowing this is anything but the truth.
I'm not too fond of Keefie, and I do not trust him even the slightest bit. I knew he would pull that gun or knife on me without a moment of hesitation, and still, he was the only person here I could look at without feeling like I was going to die within a moment's notice.
    "Then go meet Elda." He pushes me forward with a firm shove to my back.
    I groan, rubbing my bruised sides. "Fine."
    I march up the marble stairs, planting one foot before the next. I try not to think of the last time I was on a set of stairs and where that got me.
    Third dorm to the right. I remind myself, watching the now navy blue carpeted floors. I force one foot in front of the next, pushing forward.
    There aren't many dorms, 20 at most. I can see the entirety of them looking left to right. Up the stairs, there's an apparent change in the quality of the building. While it's still better than just about any home I had ever lived in, this was lived in. Worn carpets, a stain on the walls, a chipped rail. This makes me breathe slightly easier.
    I reach the door Keefie instructed me to find, staring at its dark wooden frame.     Here goes nothing-
    I haven't even lifted my fist to knock when the door flies inward.
    Standing there, staring me dead in the eye, hand on her hip, stands the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Her eyes are teal as the sea, matching the color stained the bottom of her dark braided hair. Her skin is the color of the night sky, glowing with the moon's luminescence.
    "About Time." The girl groans, grabbing my arm and yanking me Inward.
    I don't pause a moment to think about what I'm doing. I don't even realize what's happening. My brain blanks, not bothering to pause, and let my thoughts catch up. Instead, moments of the shock I felt when Kaz first grabbed me ring through my body.
    I scream, the sound filling the air. My legs scramble backward, breaking out of the girl's grasp and pushing me backward. My head rings with terror. No rational thought exists in my head. All I can picture is when I first opened my eyes in that hospital room, my blood like fire in my veins—the moments locked with Agent Jefferson, the explosions chorusing across the building until they hit us—the moments locked in the bank with a gun to my head. The second in which the safety of my own home and all stability were pulled out of my grasp.
    I hear Keefies's voice call to me, and I can feel my back pushing against the wooden rail behind me—the same way it had done the night Kaz took me from my home. I had thought it moments before disaster.
    The girl rushes forward, trying to help. She's trying to help clocks in my head, but I'm too deep now. I am far gone in memory to come back this soon.
    My hands clutch at my arms, the sleeves of my shirt too tight against my skin: my heart races, the only sound in my head. My knees fall beneath me, slowly lowering to the floor.
    "Please." Pulls from my throat—a plea to myself to escape this memory-induced madness. Every muscle in my body is taut, tight, ready to spring at a moment's notice. The rug is ruffed against my knees, even through my pants.
    "Pennie," the voice pulls through the wave of memories, pushing me in every direction.
    "Shhh," a different voice soothes. "Your ok, your safe here."
    A hand moves in slow circles over my back, slowly releasing my muscles. A cold hand grasps my own; the skin is soft to my touch.
    A hiccup-like sob escapes my lips as my body slumps down. My muscles relax, melting limply.
    "There you go." Someone awkwardly pats my shoulder.
    I force my eyes open, letting the world blast my senses. My cheeks are wet and tear-stained. My side aches more then before, my body pressed back from door number 3.
    Holding my hand is the girl with teal eyes, and rubbing my back is Keefie.
    "We're getting you therapy," Keefie states, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. He gives me a reassuring squeeze, just letting me cry.
    "I was there- but I wasn't there-" I try, my voice quivering uncertainty.
    "It's gone now." The girl reassures, squeezing my hand.
    A sob racks my chest, the memory's new to begin with now resurfaced breaking the scab keeping them tucked away.
    "I'm sorry," I murmur, the shame coloring my cheeks, hidden under the tears running down my face.
    "There's no sorry," Keefie murmurs, "You had no doing in any of this."
My shoulder sag under the weight of my own shame. I had panicked, I had lost it once again. I had let my own fears and memory's take me over letting any control I had slide from my grasp.
    The things this place have done to get me here, to keep me here, are haunting me.
    I watch as the teal eyed girl looks to Keefie, receiving a nod before beginning to speak to me.
    "I am so sorry," the girl begins, letting my hand slide from her grasp. "I knew there were some... uh- traumas. I hadn't realized that they may affect you this way, I swear in the future-"
    I cut her off, pulling away from Keefies comforting grasp.
    "I didn't know they effected me this way either." I groan, letting my shaking legs take the weight from my arms. I act as if I'm brushing dust from my pants, trying to hide the tremor in my voice.
    "It happens to the best of us." Keefie assures, his hand back to its default wresting on his knife.
    I shake my head, clearly reading terrible at lying face. "I don't think most people have flashbacks to getting kidnapped."
    The girl beside me purses her lips. "Actually- here, most do."
My eyes flick to her face, every proportion right, her poise deadly elegant. Her facial expression is soft, comforting. She's doing her best to calm me, and still her voice is flat and even. She rests her cold hand over mine. I grind my teeth, wishing she'd realized my opinion on my hands and arms being touched without a notice. My fingers twitch under her hand, the carpet grimy and ruff.
    "Keefie," I groan, resting my head back against the wooden rail behind me. He cocks his head, as if waiting for any given command. "I'm fine. Don't look like your going to kill anyone who gets near us."
    He looks around to where there was now two girls watch us. One was tall and blond, her own gun resting on her waist. The other was shorter, and extremely muscular, she has dark hair with bangs to her eyes. Her white coat was either covered in blood or ketchup. Either way I didn't want to look longer then I needed to, seeing as they were both staring and pointing. I also didn't feel like facing my fear of blood and making more of a fool of myself, because apparently I hadn't done nearly enough of that yet today.
    Keefie had clearly noticed them before I had. His hand had switched from worrying the hilt of his knife to his gun without a moments of hesitation. He no longer looked like he was just trying to relax me, instead he had positioned himself so the two girls couldn't see me blocking any shot they had.
    He cracks half a smile.
    "Habit."
    "Leave, you dingus." I groan, pushing myself off the floor. I force my footing under myself steady. I could only imagine how foolish I looked surrounded by these girls. All three of them were poised, dressed in a uniform, navy blue and tan. Nothing unusual about it. A crest sat on the lapel, a dove shrouded by two knives. I try not to dig into the meaning of they symbol. They all looked clean, mature, and then I was standing here. I had black leggings, a black shirt, a black sweatshirt, all too big and provided from the infirmary. I was still yet to receive shoes, instead wearing my purple walrus socks that seemed to have quite the habit of velcroing to this carpet.
    I must've looked sickly, the only food I've eaten in days was a few slices of un-buttered toast, and I didn't even want to dream what I must smell like. My hair has become a tangled mess that I attempted to put into some form of pigtail. Mostly because that was the only way I could get the matte in my hair to part. I still felt like a walking disaster, the concussion having lasting affects. My head would still swim if I stood up to fast, and pound if any direct sunlight hit my eyes. I still had two fractured ribs, that made just about any movement a workout. I was a walking disaster. I would be more worried if I didn't draw attention with how I looked right now.
Worst of all, just about all the trauma I had worked hard to bury was rearing it's ugly horns. It was a constant fight, every moment I was pushing against it with all my strength. It's an ongoing fight.
Keefie looks to the girl meeting her eyes. "Take care of her Elda."
The girl, Elda, looks back. "I got her Keefie."
Keefie looks unsure, but gives me a nod. "Meet you in the morning?"
"Morning." I agree.