The Paroxysm

1. The Fallen

I wonder if before the quiet and desperation for survival, that maybe there was always sound. Sounds that you weren't scared of, ones you didn't have to run from. Maybe it was the sounds of birds, or your noisy neighbor. Perhaps even a dog walker out on the street fighting against the dogs reaching and stretching to the other side of the busy road to another dog. I'd like to think there were swarms of people all going separate places bustling between the buildings that seemed to almost reach the sky, soaring through the clouds. Now, as I sit in a building just like that, peering through a large window I imagine things before the paroxysm.

     It's cold in my room, the window almost completely frosted over barely allowing me to see out and below. Winter is always welcomed by the people. The snow covers the fallen and decaying buildings, hiding what used to be such simple, beautiful things. I have a full-sized bed pushed up against the wall. A table next to it, candles half used surrounding my one book I've been given and a tattered old journal I only rarely write in. It was given to me after one of my many doctors informed my caretaker that I may have some built up anger, they thought I could be express myself through words nobody would ever read than an outburst. Why he thought that I couldn't imagine.

     An urgent knock strikes my door, I jump up off the windowsill and drag my feet across the hard-ugly tan floor. I open the door and am immediately greeted by a nervous smile. Tracey stands with her long-frizzed hair, her arms pulled up to her chest holding a folder that says my name in some random doctors ugly handwriting. 'Veronica Larson'. I begin frowning at seeing my full name, then quickly pull into a soft smile. Tracey is my caretaker. Since I was 14, she helped me feel like maybe everything was normal, everyday from 7am to 6pm she tends to my doctors' appointments, project brief meetings, my eating, and just general living. I used to think of it as like having a full-time nanny, however as I grew older, I became grateful for her company.

"Ronnie, I'm glad you're up already. There's been a problem and they need you." She says pushing around me into my room, seeing my look of annoyance, she continues, "Urgently, Veronica."

     Her face went stern so abruptly . I grab my boots, slipping them on my feet beginning to lace up each ring as tight as I can. I stand up and she already hands over my jacket and my belt. I strap the belt around my waist and pull my jacket onto me. She begins urgently walking out the door and I quickly follow suit, pausing suddenly to pick up my knife, skimming my eyes over the name on the 10-inch blade. I swiftly secure it into my belt and leave the room. We walk down the forever familiar white hallway, past 23 rooms. After being kept here I still have no idea what is in these other rooms. I've never heard a noise on either side of my walls. Maybe empty rooms, or just maybe it was others like me being kept locked away until they're of use to the Council and to the town. I may not be aware of what occupies the rooms beside me, however I do know what they used to be. Students would rest in the rooms they would come to after classes they took, classes for everything. Astronomy, Medicine, Literature. This building was their home away from home and during their studies they stayed here. Many  more just like it housed so many more students. Almost a hundred buildings surrounded this one, some an old 3 story library, a food hall, even 5 story buildings dedicated to just these classes. Now it all sits empty and useless, the only books ever read are the medical ones now.

     We walk fast around corners to the end of another hall, she shoves the huge metal doors open and we hurry down the stairs. 1 flight. 2 flights. 3 flights lower we go until we exit the building. The anticipation begins to gnaw at my stomach, maybe there was a breach, maybe they've finally begun filling our assumed safe town. Surrounding the long since abandoned and rotted university is a 25-foot high, thick brick wall every which way. I've heard the children in the town make up fantasies about what is far beyond the wall. Some say the ocean, some hope it's a wide green field and that one day the walls will be knocked down. That the fear of what's on the other side can disappear and they'll be able to run and play for miles and miles on grass that's greener than anything they've ever seen. Nobodies ever wanted to tell them different, to take away hope from their little hearts.