the brave ones // h.s.

prologue

Eden Edwards was a quiet girl in every sense of the word.

Quiet in nature, quiet in appearance, and quiet in life. She never raised her voice, never tread out of line, never acted without thought, and certainly never did anything unexpected. To call herself a creature of habit was an extreme understatement - she was more of a captive to it.

Her entire life had been built in safety. She was born and raised in the same town, never ventured across city or state lines, and always relied on her intuition to guide her in the right direction. She felt comfortable within the bubble she'd crafted around herself - that was the entire premise of a comfort zone, was it not?

"Plainer than white rice," someone had once told her. Eden couldn't decide if that was meant to be a compliment or not.

The only dash of excitement in Eden's life came in the colorful, dancing form of her roommate and closest friend, Amenkha. She was a whirlwind of life; intrepid, bold, full of excitement. In other words, the complete opposite of Eden. Perhaps that was what kept their friendship so balanced: Eden was the tether, Amenkha was the balloon.

So it was less than surprising that one afternoon, as Eden sat on her bed, thumbing through a book she'd read a hundred times, Amenkha came home with another tale of spontaneity.

***

"Eden!"

"Yeah?"

She had no sooner spoken than her door flew open and in danced Amenkha, eyes sparkling and cheeks aglow in giddiness.

"Look," Amenkha says eagerly, not waiting for Eden to say anything further. She yanks up her sleeve and holds out her arm.

Through heavy, lash-framed eyes, Eden gazes at Amenkha's proud display of the newest addition to her ever-growing collection of tattoos. A tiny moon grins back at Eden.

"I just got it on a whim," Amenkha says, a laugh bubbling over her lips. "Saw it in the window and thought 'why the hell not?'"

"Wow," Eden murmurs, chewing thoughtfully on the inside of her cheek. She sets down the book in her hands and scoots forward onto the edge of her bed.

Her internal reaction is the same it always was anytime Amenkha told her of her whimsical exploits. Instead of delight for her friend, Eden is filled with regret, wistfulness, longing, and dare she admit it, a tinge of jealousy. The feelings surfacing in her are not ones she knows are an appropriate response, but that doesn't stop the churning in her stomach.

Ever the intelligent one, Amenkha notes the melancholy look on her friend's face. "What's wrong?" she presses, tugging down her sleeve to cover her tattoo.

"I wish I could be like you," Eden hums, staring wistfully at her hands tied in her lap.

"What do you mean?" Amenkha narrows her brown eyes, a sign she's now invested and concentrated.

"Brave," Eden murmurs. "I wish I was brave."

"Not this again," Amenkha laments.

Eden looks up bashfully, peering at her friend through her thick lashes.

"It's just a tattoo, Eden," Amenkha says in exasperation. "It's not like I bought a house."

"It's the principle of it," Eden whines in protest. "You're spontaneous and adventurous and nothing scares you. I can't even try to plan my dinner without worrying incessantly."

"Eden, listen to me when I say that even you can be brave," Amenkha counters with a toss of her head. "Bravery is a state of mind; that means you can trick yourself into it."

Eden shakes her head. "That's not true, not for me."

"Well, what would you do if you weren't scared?" Amenkha prods, one hand going to her hip as she observes her friend.

Eden ponders this, pulling her lower lip in between her teeth. "I have a list," she finally admits.

"A list?"

"Of things I'd do, if I were brave," Eden continues. "But I'm too scared to do them." Oh, the irony.

"I'm telling you, it's all in your head," Amenkha replies. She turns back to the doorway, her feet carrying her across the floor to signify she's reached the end of the discussion. "Too many people are afraid - to act, to do what they want, to die. You gotta ask yourself what's worth living for."

~~