ARIS

The End

The long hallway in the pit of Dune Station was cold and dim, my eyes strained to make out any noticeable factors. The shackles dug into my wrists so painfully I could feel it in the deepest pit of my stomach and up my throat. The clink of chain against chain rung in my ears like the sound of battle gongs. The soft murmurs of the guards behind me enraged me. Their soft laughter mixed painfully with the clinking, my head spinning every which way. I didn't remember being placed in the handcuffs, I didn't remember being fitted with the prosthetic leg, and I didn't remember beginning the long walk to the air lock.

I longed for the hospital bed, I longed to be tucked away behind the long curtain divider where no one could see me. It felt so safe there, away from the relentless stares away from the horrible feeling of death that was washing over me like the rising tides of the oceans. I had found some solace in the white-curtained room, devoid of any colour, any personality, leaving me with my thoughts. I had begun to make peace with myself, but was torn from my small corner of peace last night and was thrust into the Commander's office, for the short discussion I had been dreading since I woke up that fateful morning in the infirmary.

"Do you know why I asked you here today?"

"Yes." I had bit back sarcasm.

"You're going to die," The Commander had said.

"Ok." I had replied.

"There is nothing more than that. You do not get the privilege of a trial. In my opinion, the guards should shoot you right now in that chair, but we have a protocol to follow in this station," He had spoken with such certainty I had no doubt in my mind he would have personally shot me himself.

I was jerked to a stop, the shackles around my ankle and the prosthetic locked and I stumbled forward, holding my arms out trying to brace myself on the wall. I was too far away, the wall inches from my grip. I fell hard my chin catching on the floor, my teeth clenching painfully on my bottom lip, drawing blood. It was difficult walking in a straight line let alone being jostled around. I was pulled up abruptly, my head falling back hard, and the bone cracking loudly. I felt the warm sticky blood running. It poured down my chin and gathered in the dip of my chest staining the white wool scrubs I was wearing. It seeped into the fabric, slowly expanding outward like a crimson flower blooming on the blank white canvas. I spat out a mouth full of blood on the floor, droplets spraying onto the guard's pristine shoes.

"What are you doing?" I mumbled my voice thick, my lip swelling.

"Don't speak!" I was shaken violently, the rough hands of the guard wrapping painfully around the tops of my arms.

"I just want to know why—" I was cut off by the sound of flesh on flesh. My cheek ignited in pain.

"Don't say another fething word, prisoner, or I'll make you wish you were never born."

I wanted to cry out, but I held back. I bit back the fiery sarcasm that sat on the tip of my tongue and raised my shackled hands and held them against my stinging cheek. The pain from the slap and the stinging from my lip blending together into a symphony of pain. My eyes welled up with tears, but I did not let them fall, my pride too strong. Be a man Nysa had said, and I could not disobey him. Not now.

I inhaled sharply, my breath uneven. I turned back forward, focusing my eyes on the faint light along the end of the hallway. I waited for the procession to continue, patiently, eyes cast forward. There was another hushed conversation, this time I clenched my jaw, trying to not hear the words they said. I was pushed forward by three taut fingers, my shoulder, still tender from the accident, flared in pain, my patience with these men growing thin. I stumbled but caught myself. I raised my head, my chin pointed high, and I walked. I rolled my shoulders back, puffed my chest out and breathed deeply.

The expanse of hallway only seemed to grow larger. With every step I took it stretched out longer and longer until I could not see the end. My eyes focused in and out, the edges of my vision growing fuzzier and fuzzier with every breath I took. My gait grew less and less confident, my head falling against my chest, I tried to catch my breath but my lungs felt foreign in my own chest.

The memories of the accident flashed through my head like gunfire, each image sending a pang of guilt through my body. They ran like a movie reel; each image lasting a split second before moving to the next. The bodies, the fire, Nysa, the hospital, my face, the flash of light, and then everything was gone. It was as if I had never seen it. My heart beat like a hummingbird. I had to stop walking, I clutched my chest with a tight fist, trying to regain control.

"You keep walking!" One of the men said from behind me. His voice whooshed through my ears like he had whispered it from far away.

I gasped loudly, my lungs devoid of any air.

"Did you hear me, prisoner? On your feet!"

My mouth formed around the word but I could not speak, my mouth moved frantically trying to force the sound. Help.

"I'm not going to tell you again, GET UP!"

My head clouded and I fell to my knees, everything went black.