When the Hurlyburly's Done [Sirrah Oneshot]

I can only remember parts of Jenoah’s bloodbath, he wasn’t in it for long, and father’s reaction to his premature departure is the only thing that has stuck in my memory. Maybe I have been in here for five minutes or ten, have I lasted longer than my brother? Adessia’s costume has already took on the effects of the fight, the crimson river is reaching my ankles and the arena is stealing the fabric from my skin.  Throughout the chaos, the boy from Eleven was by my side but now he is gone. Jenoah had a red headed girl from Eleven at his side, I can see a pattern.

It is turning into a toxin. Two emotions, mixing together, there can only be a negative reaction. My palms are soaked; sweat begins to infiltrate every corner of my body, washing onto the weapon. Teeth sink into my lips, holding back the urge to cry out. This isn’t how I imagined it. All the power in the weapon that is wrapped beneath my fingers and yet my forearms shake and the crimson river has taken a hold of my legs. I wonder what Enigma Lane felt in this moment. The nearest gravestone, can I seek advice from a dead person?

Lost and alone, what do I do now?

”What do I do Jenoah?”

All I can do is rest on the next gravestone, Circe Lyon,my saviour in this hour of need. Everything is beginning to feel so heavy, my feet have turned into stone, and these weapons have gained an added weight. Even my lungs are beginning to drop as oxygen levels cease from entering them. Everything is just a struggle. How fucking brave of you, Daniela. No princess persona or tantrum will pull me from this sinking hole. This is the time for me to prove that this courageous dare to me was not all a waste. Just two words brought me here, a mistake that has cost me so much.

One step after the other and not even a shadow is attached to me. Complete darkness and a reminder of the fallen is the only thing keeping me company.Names of the forgotten, a handful of heroes mentioned here and there. Just one glance at Jenoah's, has he really joined me in this?

No cannon sounds, no sounds of screams or fear, is this really how it is? Anxiety and anticipation has caused disappointment, my life is still in my hands and yet those two words feel wasted.

The boy from Eleven is the first one I find, his company was brief in the chaos but here is alive and somewhat well. "It looks like you didn't practice the self defence I taught you."

Oh how the prey is always the weak. The poor back home, on their knees at my father's feet and yet they never walked way without a bloodied nose.

[ dars ]

i am flesh, bones
i am skin, soul
i am human
nothing more than human

Fifty feet away and counting it becomes dead silent.

I can hear my heartbeat creeping into my throat before dropping down into my stomach— a weary traveler in an unknown land. A mirage on the horizon, survival is simply a destination that moves away from my fingertips with every step I take.

Perhaps it would be best if I was no longer actively working towards the end to my means. This course of action has caused my muscles to deteriorate within themselves and then proclaim that they are better, that they are stronger—

That I am something more simply because I have suffered.

I am no better now than I was before my father pressed his lips to my ear and told me I would never be a manhimsomebody. Alfie. Boiled down to the bones with nothing but a name and an ideal or two on my back, I am Alfie.

Running away from the desolation of destruction and the chaos of carnage, I do not stop to look back over my shoulder. I am following the boy from six’s escape and not questioning the motives of the escapade. I have since learned that when one lacks reason of their own it is best not to question the reason that is chosen by blind faith.

I’ve never prayed, and I do not plan on starting now.

Faith is a simple lack of knowledge and the things in between— the lack of an ability to fill in the gap and admit that there is a world outside the scope of one’s own understanding. Men with minds larger than their bodies would say that this— this in itself is terrifying.

I exhale.

Relief washes over my bones and into my ribs. There is something outside of me that is not my right to comprehend. The world may owe me something but this is not it. I am not allocated the privilege of undressing the crevices of a vulnerable mind and wondering why infinity has not tucked itself away somewhere better. I am the same now, stumbling through a mind of my own that still seems strangely foreign even in the breaking dawn.

I step and cross the horizon— there is a sunrise at my fingertips and I can only paint in shades of grey.

The girl from Eight’s voice catches my attention before the sight of her does the same, and I shift my focus in their direction, if only to swivel back to my original task at a later date. With her is the boy from Eleven. She appears to be unharmed, simply taken aback in tongue when I make my presence known.

I nod— two fingers from my forehead and a trigger pull away from removing my brain from my own skull and I wonder if they have seen the barrel swing in their direction. My gaze shifts focus to the boy’s arm, and I inhale sharply as I take in the extent of his injuries.

“You’ll live, won’t you?”

I do not understand the severity of our situation well enough to offer hope that might taste like bitter falsity on the cusp of a poisoned tongue.

i am sweat, flaws
i am veins, scars
i am human
nothing more than human

[ dars ]