Forever Luna

imminence

noun ~ the state or fact of being about to happen

POLLUX

The lock clicked, disturbing me from sleep. It's louder this time, or maybe I just hear more now.

I don't move straight away. I sit where I always sit, with my back against the wall, knees drawn in, head tilted slightly toward the wall. Always waiting, always empty.

The door opens, and light spills in, but it doesn't blind me like it used to. The past few days, my vision has cleared significantly. I've barely seen anyone but the people who bring me food. It's been four days, and I haven't even had a wash. Pissing in this tiny room was bad as it is, but with no daily washes, it stank, and with my senses coming back, it was getting worse.

But at the same time, I was growing numb to it. Much like my mind, I ignored the painful moments.

Shapes move through the open door, and I realise it's the same two men that dragged me to my doom every time. I started recognising them by the way they move, not how they look, but now...

I could see more.

I could see the taller man had brown hair with blonde highlights; his blue eyes caught the white light from the hallway. His nose and jaw were softened with blurs, and any sharper features were muffled, but I knew I'd be able to pick him out of a crowd now.

The other man was shorter but stockier. He had... well, no hair, I suppose. And his eyes were a deep brown, so dark they blurred with the shadows on his face whenever he turned his head. I saw the dark swirls of a tattoo on the back of his head when he glanced over his shoulder, but not enough to see what odd tattoo he had carved into his skin.

"Up," he grunted, moving his arm toward me.

I don't hesitate, sighing as I push myself to my feet before they reach me. One of them grabs my arm anyway, and the usual routine of escorting me down the halls to my doom continues. But... something's different.

The air outside my room isn't still anymore; it's moving. And not just in the casual motion of more people, but everything was... faster; hectic.

Voices echoed down the corridor; sharper and overlapping as people threw commands at each other. Footsteps hurried across the tiled floor, doors slamming, doors opening into other rooms. My ears picked up every sound. Even the hum of machinery is louder, strained, as if it's working harder than it should.

I lift my head slightly as they pull me forward. Something was happening, and I wasn't about to miss it, no matter how weak I felt.

We reached the main room; the doors swinging open with a sharp shove. Shapes rush past, dark figures carrying long, rigid objects. I focus on them, my eyes straining to make out what they had. And then I have a hard time not reacting as I realise they're various weapons: guns, knives, even...

Stakes?

Just what had this man created?

People push crates out of this room, metal clanging, doors opening and slamming shut in quick succession behind me. It's chaos.

My brow furrows because this isn't normal. Even in this place, this controlled, suffocating place, there has always been order.

This feels like... This is rushed.

Are they being raided?

The thought hits me fast and sharp, and hope follows it, just as quickly. Too quickly that the moment I realise I got excited for a rescue, a sour taste formed in my mouth. Because nobody could find me, nobody knew where I was.