create

9. lonely

The next time Sylver woke up she was alone. Good.
Sylver tried moving. Still stiff. Fuck. That way she couldn't tell if she was bound down or not.
She checked her surroundings. She was in a well-lit room, a white curtain on both sides of her medical bed, coming to a close infront of her. As if she were in a standard hospital. But she was not. Sylver was inside The Cave. But considering the nature of this impenetrable place, and following sheer logic, the medical wing should be close to the entrance, to give retreating soldiers a fast treatment and bring them back into the defense.
Sylver tested her arms first. She streched them first and grunted when her muscles worked against her, but she managed to put them above her blanket.
Next step. She streched both her legs. Sylver winced when her joints complained, but both her legs seemed to work perfectly.
As fast as she could, which was not fast at all, she threw the blanket to the side. And she immediately had regrets.
Who the actual fuck had put clothes that colour on her?
Hideous.
If it had been Ass then Sylver was happy that her own pain had hurt her so badly. If not then... oh well.
Sylver would've loved to rip the neon-yellow pullover and especially the "hot"-pink wide pants from her body, but she neither had the strength nor the underwear for such a move.
Instead she forced her legs sideways, one inch after another. It was a slow and aggravating procedure, but after about a minute, or was it more?, she managed to let her right leg dangle down the side of the bed.
To get rid of the pain she whispered the lyrics to 'Extinguish the Flames', a song created to attack any rebellious group, which had ended up becoming the inofficial hymn of everyone with any opposing thoughts, and because of that backfiring it had been banned, which had only enstrengthened any resistance there was. It was a beautiful turn of events.

Hear the drums
Make them run
Their fire burns bright
So turn off the light
They burn us to ashes
'Til everything crashes
But they can be tamed
When we extinguish the flames

Both legs down now. Sylver pushed her body forwards, inch by inch. If she managed to stand, then she could walk. If she could walk then she could run. If she could run then she could escape.
Easier said than done.
Sylver finally sat upright, her bare feet almost touching the floor. She inched forward, stretching her right leg until finally her toes touched the surprisingly warm floor.
Next step, the left leg.
With more effort than standing up had ever cost she managed to put both her soles on the ground.

Hear the drums

Sylver stood up. Or she planned to. Instead her legs gave in and she crashed to the ground, hard.

Make them run

Sylver lifted herself onto all fours. No giving up now. Deep breaths. In and out. In. And. Out.

Their fire burns bright

Sylver brought her left foot under her body. She almost fell again, but she managed to just dangerously sway from side to side.

So turn off the light

Slowly she lifted her body upwards. This time it seemed to work better. Sweat began trickling down her forehead, and she could feel the yellow ugliness sticking to her back already.

They burn us to ashes

Hands off the ground. Sylver tried to balance herself on her two feet alone. She stumbled a bit, caught herself with her hands, swallowed down a curse, and tried again.

'Til everything crashes

Bit by bit she lifted herself up until she finally stood. Almost. She still held onto the bed. But so far so good.

But they can be tamed

Sylver could feel the stiffness leaving her limbs. She tested lifting up her feet, first left, then right, and again.
And then she took steps. One. And a second one. And a third. Then one without holding on. One after the other, until she stood infront of her bed, the curtains before her.
"When we extinguish the flames!", Sylver whispered with a triumphant smile as she drew apart the curtains.
She was not in a hospital's room like she had assumed at first. She was in a really, really big hall. Curtains like hers were spread out in all directions around her, at least 50 to her left and right each and many many more to the front and back. How many she really couldn't say, but there must've been hundreds of rows. Enough to take care of a whole wounded army.
Sylver wondered how anyone could find anyone specific in here if they searched, because there were just too many beds. Tens of thousands, maybe even hundreds.
At the end of the row to her left there was an entrance in the wall, probably the only hint Matt had when he searched for her in here.
Meaning Sylver could use that to her advantage if needed.
One foot infront of the other. Slowly Sylver gained speed walking forwards, growing in confidence. Sometimes she almost stumbled over her own feet, but generally she held up well, and in so much less time than standing up had taken she was at the door, gripping the handle tightly in her right hand.
She had only wanted to listen, but her hand had caught her attention first. She hadn't even taken the time to examine it yet.
It looked and felt like real flesh. Sylver really could tell no difference between both her hands. But this one was supposed to be mechanic. Was such a masterpiece even possible?
Steps outside.
Sylver let go of the handle. Left or right? Would they look for her anywhere else than in her cabin?
No time.
She stumbled to the left, trying to get inside the curtain, but she didn't find where they parted.
She bit back a curse and just lifted it up and disappeared behind it, at the exact moment the big double-door was unlocked from outside, and opened with a low 'wooosh'.
Judging by the amount of steps she heard there were 5 people outside, moving a rolling bed right past her current tent, in the direction of her former one.
They were taking quick steps. Better for Sylver. She waited. Counting in her head.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
She found the entrance, it had been on the other side of the curtains, of course it had, and she tiptoed around, towards the still open door.
A quick glance to her right showed that none of the... MUD-people? were bothering to look back the way they came from, so Sylver used her chance and ran, or rather stumbled, through into the only dimly lit hallway. To her far left there were many doors going off to the right, and to her right there was a flight of stairs not so far away.
The MUD could've only come from the left, meaning the exit could be that way, but there were too many doors and too many opportunities to get caught in that direction to risk it, so she went right, knowing fully well that the stairs would be a pain for her to conquer, but getting out was her goal, and she would reach it no matter what.
She needed to see Goldie again. Maybe she could convince her to stop the stealing, the breaking-in. Convince her to take a job, something with computers or other technical devices. Somewhere away. Somewhere they couldn't die, or lose limbs, or get shot...
Just somewhere safe.
Fuck, Sylver missed her. For the first time since she and Goldie had met she was alone again, and it sucked ass. Sylver hadn't realised how dependant she was on other people, on friends she could trust. But Goldie wasn't here, Sylver didn't even know if she was still alive, but Sylver couldn't afford to think these thoughts, Damion was dead for such a long time already as well, and before that...
"No!", Sylver said to herself as she reached the stairs, "Don't dwell on the past, Sylver! Live here and now! Get out, find Goldie if possible, and run! One at a time! Step left, step right, step left, good! Live through the pain! Survive!"
'Am I going mad? I'm talking to myself after all... but no. I'm just alone, that's why!', Sylver thought, and she finally reached the top of the spiralling stairs.
Just one way to go. Back where she came from, one floor further up.
This hallway was not lit at all, but there were windows showing what had been in those doors to the right downstairs.
Slowly Sylver neared the first window, keeping to the wall until she stood directly next to it.
She took a peek and nearly fell backwards onto her hideous "hot"-pink trousers.
'Deep breaths. Don't lose your mind. Breathe. Just. Breathe.', Sylver thought.
Then she forced herself back into a more professional mood.
'Take it all in. Don't miss out on any details, you might be able to revisit this after the Focus sometime!'
Sylver stepped away from the wall, and she dared another look.
There were people in there. Many people. And they were training. Fighting. Some with their hands and feet. Some with... other... things...
Sylver had heard of it. She had seen footage on A.I.D.. But never had she seen elements being actually thrown around.
There were ten people, 5 men and 5 women, in the small hall. Four were practising hand-to-hand combat at the side, doing a free-for-all it seemed.
But the other six were doing a one-on-one battle each. But they were standing apart at least 10 metres from each other. The two guys on the left were throwing actual fireballs at each other and dodging them if they could. They appeared out of nowhere in their hands, as if they were really producing them out of thin air.
In the middle the two women were doing something entirely different.
One of them seemed to produce icicles into her hands that she threw like knives, while the other just moved her hands left to right, deflecting the spears with... the air around herself?
It didn't seem to work all too well though, because she was stepping backwards while her opponent threw icicle after icicle, faster and faster, until one finally penetrated the defense and got stuck in the defenders shoulder. Blood gushed everywhere, and the attacker smiled wickedly, that much was visible even from Sylver's higher position.
But not for long, as the icicle was drawn out, and the woman threw it back with all her might. She also made a pushing gesture after it, and out of nowhere the spear got faster and hit the ice-user in the middle of her chest, throwing her back two metres, where she remained lying, blood spilling, her face not smiling anymore.
What had Sylver gotten herself into here? Was nobody going to help her? Help them?
But the others didn't even glance over, and soon eight people in bright red, armoured clothing rushed in from probably a door Sylver had seen earlier downstairs, and they caried the wounded (or dead?) out of sight.
Wow.
But the man and woman on the right were the ones scaring Sylver the most. Or rather, the man was. The woman was creating waves and fountains of water, she was basically flooding a part of the arena, at least their part, the water apparently was unable to cross a certain line, and the man just stood there and did nothing. Then, suddenly, he spit into the water that was already totally engulfing the woman who seemed to plan to drown him all at once. But she never got to that.
As soon as the spit hit the water it began to turn an ugly green, and that green spread fast. As soon as it hit the woman she began to scream, which was not audible, but the sheer agony she emmitted made Sylver feel like vomiting. And the woman's flesh began to be eaten away, first only from the front, then the acid spread until every single drop of water had been turned, and before anyone could even interrupt the woman was gone, completely, and there was no trace of her left.
Sylver stumbled backwards.
She needed to get out. Tears were streaming down her face.
Back.
Back.
Back.
Just away from this cruel place, this cruel sight.
She turned around and ran directly into Matt, who held her tight immediately as Sylver broke down.
She needed out. She needed Goldie. She was so alone.
"Shht... Sylver, shht... you're not alone, it's okay, it'll be alright... shht...", Matt whispered, holding her.
And Sylver realised he was right as he picked her up as if she didn't weigh anything and brought her down the stairs again.
He was so right.
She wasn't alone.
She was lonely.
With brutality surrounding her.
Without Goldie.
So lonely.
Without anywhere to go.