After The Storm || ON HOLD

hell and back

(Through the eyes of Elektra Nova, the electricity child.)
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Title Reference: Tonight Alive.

Electricity: The electricity child can create and control lightning. She is immune to electricity, meaning an entire electric current can run through her body without any harm being done. Also, she is the laboratory's source of power—just by being inside the building, she can keep everything running. She is known to be timid, but very lively. Despite being socially inept, she'll stand up for herself and others in certain situations. The electricity was born with a mental disorder and is trying to hide the fact that she has it.  

***

I could feel the wind drift from underneath my feet and, as I relentlessly chased the pursuit of a beautiful and luminous blue butterfly flying high—higher and higher as she flew, fluttering her wonderful tiny wings with all her might. Apparently the radiation from the ten, and most vicious days Earth has ever seen, days of the worldwide natural disaster—or, as it was colloquially called, the Storm. At least, that was what Miss Campbell told me every night, reciting the tale of how the world almost ended. And the woman that I have known since I was born witnessed the utterly terrifying, as she described, tragedy that shook Earth to the very brink of optimum destruction, disorder and despair.

The violent waves crashed upon the rugged and rocky coastline as the last of the sun's rays glistened onto the ocean surface; it wasn't just the reflection in the water that was being caressed by the delicate rays of light. Pinks, oranges and yellows inked across the sky for miles as if the sunlight had painted on the once blank canvas. Though I was soon distracted from the breathtaking scene as I glimpsed at the butterfly and I scrambled across to the stone wall that enclosed the garden behind the quaint, cobblestone thatched cottage. I rose to my tiptoes, clutching onto the wall for balance, but the butterfly had escaped my eyesight just in time, and at that moment a felt a little happiness leave my conscience, as if I had failed an all-important task.

From inside the cottage, I could hear a faint call of my name, beckoning me into the house, just as the torrential downpour began. Without a second glance out to sea, I obeyed and hurried back inside, sprinting as fast as a seven-year-old could, and forced the backdoor shut, the raindrops thundering onto the frosted glass as my palms rested on the cold surface. Then I heard a light chatter growing louder and louder. I couldn't quite distinguish what they were saying, but the voices were definitely belonged to that of strangers'.

"We are unable to thank you enough, Miss Campbell," a deep voice spoke up at once, and I could easily picture a male figure in my mind at the tone. It sounded too deep and masculine to belong to a woman.

"W-What are you t-talking about?" I finally drew a breath, exiting the outhouse I entered the cottage in and standing shyly in the threshold of the homely sitting room, forest greens and other country colors coalescing into one.

"Ah! Here she is," beamed one of the other men. All six of them, I counted, sported plain white outfits, with broad shoulders, and long bodies and legs, towering feet above me. "We're going to take you with us, sweetie. Don't worry, you'll be completely safe, I promise."

"B-But I d-don't understand!" I cried, tears beginning to form in the ducts of my eyes as I stared up into the larger ones of the man crouching before me. "I-I like i-it here, I-I don't want to go! W-Why do I-I have to?"

"You'll understand just how important it is--I mean, you are, when you're older. Though, for now, you have to come with us." Another one spoke, in the same sickeningly sweet and patronizing timbre as the man before.