Game of Riches (ONC)

He chose me.

I was the only one with hair.

As I entered the holding cell, all eyes turned to me in my newly donned prison scrubs. The short haired man from earlier, hair now even more closely shaven, stared at me from the centre of the crowd. Curly hair glared at me from the corner, arms folded and back hunched. Guilt snaked in my gut and rose with the heat of my cheeks. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe out the seething feeling. It lingered.

Short hair clapped his hands. "Well done, girl." His eyes gleamed and a lopsided grin came to his lips. "We are heading to the promise land."

A cheer rose around him. I smiled weakly back and that old flare of hope re-awoke. A promise land. If only. A new beginning. Yes. For better or worse.

The gates clanged shut behind me, the bars and glass falling down from the wall above.

"Come here." He held out his hands and his smile widened to a beam, white teeth gleaming. I walked to him, steps slow. He wrapped his hands around my waist and pulled me to him, placing a kiss on my cheek. His fingers ran through my hair. "Interesting." He whispered in my ear, then spun me around, bearing me for all to see. "What's your name?"

"Cora." I whispered back.

"Cora has decided to join us on this journey. Anyone decides they have a problem with her, has a problem with me." He said, voice strong, yet nowhere near a yell. "Can't let anyone hurt my new girl." He whispered in my ear.

A strange, new feeling erupted in my chest. It was the first time anyone had ever looked out for me in years. A strange yet welcome occurrence. Anger burnt at my father -- where was he when I needed him? Coward. Perhaps this was where I belonged after all. I scanned the crowd. All of them had bags under their eyes and a thinness that spoke of hungry days, but they each had a gleam in their eyes.

Each was unknown to me, despite having lived on the ship with them. Until my eyes caught his.

Evan.

His hair was gone. But I would know that face anywhere. Had run my fingers over it in the starlight, memorising the rise of his nose and curve of his lips. They mouthed words to me now that I couldn't understand. Everything spun as the short haired man pulled me closer to his side, forcing my back flush to his front.

How was he here? He had been free just that morning.

After that, everything was a blur. It was as if his face had sucked me into a black hole, and only once they had us moved to solitary rooms, did I finally exit out the other side. It was a cramped space with only just enough space to lie down and barely enough room to stand. All I could see were blank walls, bars and cells opposite. No windows to look out and watch the stars pass. Something about that is more claustrophobic than the tight space. My room on Station 457 looked out on the stars and reminded me there was more beyond these metal walls. Somewhere out there were planets with endless seas and open sky as far as the eye could see.

Now I was stuck on yet another ship with Evan, one I truly had no hope of escaping. I wrapped my fingers around the smooth, sterile bars and closed my eyes, transposing myself into my room, soft sheet wrapped around my legs, drawings plastered across the walls. Evan's hands filtered into the image and I snapped my eyes open. Would I ever escape his memory?

Mealtimes were the worst.

I trailed blank faced into the mess room, where I was handed a tray and instructed to sit at table number four, which I soon realised was exclusive to people off Station 457. At the last moment, I snapped around and sat at the adjacent table where a couple seats were still spare. Everything on the tray was beige and as I numbly lifted it to my mouth, I discovered it also manage to taste as bland as beige as well. My mother's cooking was the one thing I'd managed to bring with me from Shiffir. It was the thread the brought my disjointed life together, and now that was gone. It was stupid, really, but nonetheless filled me with a great sorrow. It was the one thing I had let myself hold onto.