Pushing on me [Skylar!]

EVERY DAY, IT'S GETTING CLOSER

"Dialogue!"

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Glancing at the black box that she depended so heavily on, Za smiled. The 4.1, in all of it's mechanical glory, indicated that the level of pollutants in the air was low, and therefor that Za was free to breath.

It had been a good day. She’d finally finished work on a smoke alarm that stopped the toast getting burnt, which she’d been working on forever. Her mother had pressed a few loose coins into her hand, and allowed her to venture down to the market square to return with half a dozen baked good, which inevitably showed that, money-wise, her family was in a good place. And if there wasn’t money to worry about, in her house, there was nothing to worry about. And to top it off, the weather had stayed sunny, the air being dry. It drifted in and out of her lungs without too much of a problem, for once. The reading, the 4.1 on her black box, was so low that she wasn’t even worried. For once.



Zaven skipped down the pavement, cars rushing along her side. She loved the fact that the cars were within arms reach, that her whole mortality was in arms reach. One wrong step, one stumble, and that was it. You were dead. Every time a car rushed past, her adrenaline rushed too. She liked it



Step on a crack, break your mothers back. The old rhyme reverberated through the rush of ideas, fears, hopes, that made up her conciousness. As she didn’t believe in Rimred, she didn’t believe in children’s tales. And yet still she jumped over the cracks in the pavement, places where the ground gasped, perhaps in thirst or fear, or, like her, in lack of oxygen.

Although she didn’t believe in it, she didn’t like to tempt fate.



Big juicy clouds began to gather in formation over the clustered city that constituted most of District 3. As quickly as the weather could manage, the humidity increased. Za could feel it better than most, and quickly took out her Box.


She told herself she was being stupid. She knew that the level of air pollutants increased as she got closer to the center of the city, and here she was on the fringes of the square that loudly said “Hello, welcome, you’re right, smack bang in the middle of District Three now!”

And yet some stupid thought in the back of her head kept talking to her.

It shouldn’t have risen so quickly.



Trying to keep her cool, knowing that if she stressed she would only have more difficulty breathing, her eyes sketched the stalls that lined the square. Feeling the weight of the air that was supposed to be breathed sit heavier and heavier on the top of her chest, she leant against a wall, and focused on her breathing.

She realised that it wasn’t doing anything.

Her inhaler was sitting in her pocket, but she couldn’t force her fingers around the tube



She was drowning in a sea that wasn’t there. She had a plastic bag shoved roughly around her head, and yet no one could see it. As she edged closer and closer to unconsciousness, there were no good byes, no final regrets, just one thought.

Help me.



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