Rising Tides | 2

10 | R a g a n

—

A week had passed since my mother had been recovered from Penshaw. During that week, I slapped my father, shattered one of his officer's wrists, resisted confinement, made a man bleed, and was drugged unconscious. When I woke, I was in what everyone calls "confinement". It was reserved for insubordinate comrades.

Confinement consisted of a small room with a slab of concrete for a bed, a flickering lightbulb in the ceiling, no windows, and thick metal walls. I wasn't allowed contact with anyone or anything. A Tanmos guard was placed outside the large metal door, forcing my mind calm so I wouldn't attempt to escape. There was a window in the door, so he could always see me.

Why did I lead myself into this situation, you may ask? Well, my loving father refused to disclose where my mother was being held. He didn't want me seeing her. So, yes, I retaliated. During my retaliation, Captain Blais attempted to restrain me. He got what was coming for him. Despite their hesitance, my father forced his guards to take me to confinement as an "outlet for my anger". He hoped isolating me would help lower my temper.

So, there I was, trapped in a metal box for a week. I had nothing. They'd even taken my shoes. My only friend was the guard outside. I tried to talk to him a lot. He wouldn't tell me his name, so I called him Buffy. He only responded when it was mealtime. He'd toss me the tray and mutter, "Eat up", before sealing me in my box again.

I was really bored one day, so I decided to play a game. I'd muster all the anger I could and act as if I were going to splinter the door. Buffy would run in, eyes swirling with power, and force me into relaxation. I'd laugh hysterically, unable to control myself, and fall to the floor with a drunk smile on my face. Buffy would scoff, walk out, and ignore me until I did it again.

It had been a long time since I'd felt such bliss. Having someone control your mind to where you felt at peace was something I could get used to. It was like all my problems had disappeared. My brother wasn't a psychotic dictator, and my father wasn't the maniac trying to kill him. My mother never died, and we all lived together in harmony. It was nice to have dreams again.

—

I woke today from the sound of the door groaning open. When I opened my eyes, Buffy was not in front of me like I anticipated. Instead, I was face to face with leathery skin and piercing grey eyes. His breath stank of ale.

"Father," I muttered with distaste and drama. No amount of mind control could cloud my true feelings. I hoisted myself into a sitting position, muscles weak. "Have you come to revel in my misery?"

He rolled his eyes. "Must you always be so grim?"

"What do you want?"

"I'm simply spending time with my only daughter. Is that such a problem?" He asked innocently.

I scoffed, not feeling as giddy as I was before. "You only want to be around me when you feel I can do some sort of service."

My father's nostrils flared. I offended him. Good.

He stood to leave, smoothing the lapels of his uniform. "Seems you could use a few more days in confinement." He walked to the doorway and looked back at me over his shoulder. "The next time I come back, I expect better behavior."

Out of anger, I flipped him the bird.

And then he was gone, and I was alone again.