The Higher Define (2018)

4

"Aspen."

No.

It feels like there's a lump in my throat that obstructs my ability to speak. I try to duck my head, slink and fade into the background but it is too late.

Spencer has already seen me.

He walks over, a conflicted look on his face, twisted with pain and wonder. But I can't bear to talk to him, or to listen to him speak. I don't want this. It can go two ways- the first being a huge fight and the second one being we forgive each other before destroying our relationship again.

I know this cycle almost too well. It doesn't make sense how whenever we try to connect, when we try to reach out and ask for forgiveness, it almost never works. Our friendship is doomed to fail.

"Spencer." I fight to maintain a monotone and shoot him a polite smile but the feeling in my chest is tight. His eyes glow with hurt as he takes up the position by my side but I don't try to apologise.

"Two clear nights in a week, huh? Did you bring some strange magic into the world of Corrupts?" His attempt at a joke, at trying to clear the tension, is painful to even listen to. Panic rises in my lungs and my nails dig into my skin.

I shake my head, trying to clear away the noisy thoughts that fill my mind, that debate to forgive him or to let it be. To push aside this friendship that can't be salvaged.

"Sorry. That was pathetic, even for me."

He's going to cry. I can hear it in the way his voice starts to sound syrupy, in the way his words are drowned out by emotions. I can see it in the way he turns away, to hide his face from me.

How did it come to this? Why did he even approach me, in the first place, when he knew that whatever attempts made to save our friendship would be futile?

"What do you want, Spencer?" I hate how harsh my tone comes out. I hate the way that it sounds blunt, flippant, as if I don't care about him.

Because a part of me whispers that I still do. That no matter how many times we argue or I doubt his intentions, he is the person who taught me how to use the holographic menu. The person who laughed with me in the pool, the person who saw through me at the Hub. The one who was willing to confide in the perfect Define, even thought we barely knew each other.

Didn't all these things matter more?

"Isn't it obvious, Aspen? I want a lot of things. I want-" Spencer struggles to choke the words out at this point, "- I want to be your friend. I want our relationship to be something that doesn't fall apart at every seam. I want you to love me the way I love you. I want to live here with you."

My face goes red. I can feel the heat rise to my skin and I want to dig a hole and never come out but I force myself to sit there, motionless. Because I still care.

"And I've tried to learn to accept that you'll never like me back. I'm still in the midst of accepting that fact. But it's painful, it's difficult, to cope with that piece of knowledge when you don't even want to look me in the eye."

"You don't talk to me anymore, you're always searching to pick a fight with me. Do you know how much that hurts, Aspen?"

I know. Or I think I know. Because if it's anything like the pain that repeatedly slams against my chest right now, then I understand.

The words fail to leave my mouth and I turn away, in despair. I don't know what to say to Spencer. And I don't know if I want to speak to him.

"Are you listening to me?" Spencer pleads, his hands hesitantly pulling towards me. I draw back, like a magnet repelled by his motion.

His eyes grow round with pain when he sees my reaction and the regret that tingles down my spine tells me that it's too late. I can't take back that action and even if I do, he won't be likely to forget it.

I try to push the blame. I try to change the subject.

"Look, you don't even tell me anything. You have kept your fair share of secrets, so what's wrong with keeping mine? You're at weird places at suspicious times and you don't even tell me what you're doing there. How do you expect me to trust you?" Even as I hear the words, I know that this is all wrong.

I can't possibly be hating him, accusing him, when I have made it crystal clear that I'm the one repelled by him. When I'm the one who initiated all this.

He's right- I'm always trying to pick a fight with him. Always searching and magnifying his flaws.

I'm a terrible person. Oh my god, I hate myself.

My ears grow warm and my hands can't stop shaking furiously. I try to bunch up the hem of my shirt to stop the unstable trembling but I'm too horrifed, too disgusted by myself.

"Look, I-" I try again but this time, I never complete my sentence.

The world around us blurs and spins into a heavy blanket of disorder. There's sudden screaming, yelling and hollers. People are running back and fourth, people are panicking.

"What?" Spencer's brows furrow in confusion as he quickly leaves my side, suddenly pulled towards the heavy duties of his responsibility as Mr Anderson's son.

I leave my spot, too, and struggle to make my way to the epicentre of the disaster. It's a hurricane, it's a eathquake of people in a frantic mess. The fire has taken over the road, the land and it blazes fiercely, consuming everything in its path.

People run into me, Corrupts slam against me and I fall from the strong impact. My legs slam against the hard concrete, causing pain to sear across my thighs and I gasp, hard.

"Hey, get up and run!" Shouts erupt from around me but I can't see anything. My vision is clogged up from the tears that run rampant in my eyes.

What's happening? What on earth is happening?

My thoughts grow as loud as the surrounding noises and I squint, struggling to watch as all around me, Corrupts begin to drop- falling on the pavement, dead.

No, wait- they can't be dead?

I scramble, getting on my feet and run towards the nearest fallen Corrupt. My hands shake with fear as I reach over and turn him over to check his face. His eyes are sealed shut and his lips are pale. Dirt is emblazoned on his face and there's not a hint of life.

But Corrupts die everytime, right? This might be another case, another chip or code finally becoming fried from exhaustion. I try to beg my mind to accept the reasoning but when I look all around me, with Corrupts littering the floor, with the sounds of people breaking into a panick, I know that this can't be the reason.

There's more casualties than the logic of numerous codes getting friend can appeal to. There's too much chaos, too much shock that the live Corrupts are portraying, to suggest such a close-case affair.

It feels as if I have turned into a statue- unable to move or breathe. I'm hunched over the dead Corrult, not able to think properly, not able to formulate a reason for this outcome. Around me, the world continues to grow darker. The screamings don't stop. The cries for help don't stop.

And the number of Corrupts falling to the floor keeps rising.

That's when someone grabs me by the shoulders. It's a strong, forceful action that jerks me back to reality.

It's Spencer with his wide eyes. Gone is the pain, the sadness that chewed at him just minutes ago. He looks at me with authority, with warning.

"Run!" He shouts.

And I don't know what it is but my body pulls itself to the proper position and I take off, my feet carrying me as fast as they can. The howl of the wind grows strong as I pick up the pace, as I race down the streets, the broken roads. The roads that will slowly be consumed by the fire.

I don't know where I'm headed for. All I know is that I need to get away from madness, as fast as possible.

[Private Message from Cali Tides]

THE TEMPLE. NOW.

I don't stop to give the wireless a second thought. I just go.