Inverted

1. Freya (Revised)

Freya Attenori is alone.

The damp air from Olive Lake fills the cavern and blows through her ebony hair as the red dirt of her cavern home stirs beneath her feet. She walks along the edge of the largest cave in Hermitage feeling the uneven flow of the wall under her hand as she watches the stalactites guide drops of water to their sharp ledge daring them to jump. They do. The water dances to the ground in a calming pattern, and Freya feels a rare moment of contentment, which is only interrupted when her hand finds a row of mission vests. The vests are built for grown men, but Freya manages to pull one off the rack and feels the hard stone of the wall against her back as her arm becomes pinned under the weight. "I'll stick with my backpack, I guess," she says to no one. The veins in her head create what looks like abstract art as she strains to place the vest back where she found it.

Water drips on her face, and she stares up at the perpetrator with contempt. A deep sigh leaves her chest as she looks around the familiar setting as she walks to the center of the room. The words etched into the stone over the exit of the Great Hall grab her. They are the words of Ernest Emerson, the late founder of Freya's community. She reads them aloud in the most sarcastically dignified voice she can muster, "Not everyone can be a leader, but the truth is most have no desire to lead." Collapsing onto a stone chair in the middle of the room her mind wanders.

I don't know what's so 'great' about this place. It's not even a hall! Why am I here? Freya grew up here. Like most people who grow up in a small community, she wants out.

What will I do with my life? Her eyes scan the room stopping at the circle where elders tell the same stories every week. Then landing on the entrance to the "planning room" where the adults plan the same missions every month.

This is my home. My mom is here. My grandfather is here. Her eyes begin to flood with water.

My prison is here.

How can I let this be my future? The thoughts swirling inside her head compel her legs to straighten and stride forward. The walk to the cavern entrance is over before she realizes she is moving. It is only the sunlight from the outside piercing the darkness that brings her legs to a sudden stop. The ground meets her knees with an unforgiving force. "I can't even handle my backpack." The smooth cavern wall feels cool against her skin as she lifts herself up.

"What am I doing? I can't leave Hermitage. This community is my life." Freya remembers watching her father as he prepared to explore the surface. 'For the people, Freya. We fight for the people.' Her father's words echo in her head.

The crayfish drawing she made when she was six years old calls to her from the natural spotlight. It is a terrible piece of art even for a six year old. But in this moment that picture represents so much more than the cave-dwelling water bug.

Life was so simple back then.

Freya sighs as she longs for her childhood days. Ten years really does create a lot of change. It seems like a hundred. Why do I feel so...so...trapped? I never cared what was beyond the opening before. I was happy here. I wish I were still happy drawing on the wall and waiting for my dad to return from a mission. The sun-kissed stone feels warm beneath her hand as she traces the drawing.

Spontaneous behavior is normal for Freya. She routinely breaks into song at formal gatherings, but she has never left the cave. Children aren't allowed on the surface. But I'm not a child anymore. My father is dead, and I am 16 years old. The world can not be as scary as my mom believes it to be.

I need out.

Son of a bitch! The sun is bright! She jumps back into the darkness and smiles at her own absentmindedness. My HueSats! The sun is not kind to underground eyes.