#and for whatever reason each page in the book was like....individually wrapped in red paper to prevent spoilers lol

[mercymornsimpathizer]

had a dream last night that atn finally came out and everyone was angry bc there was a john/sarpedon mpreg plotline

[dragonstoravens]

Babylon Vol. 1: Pandora’s Box, Brotherly Interlude

[ID: a blue patterned banner with text reading “BABYLON.” End ID.]

(We’re back!!! And OH BOY HERE WE GO!!!! We’re only a few chapters from posting all of book 1 now, just two more updates after this one. I hope you enjoy this ~romantically spicy~ update!)

Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @charlottedotexe @glitterandstarshine @rainbowcoloreddays @the-starlight-chills @erased-in-stone

General: @elywritesbydarkness @residentofthedisc @humour-and-hyperfocus @skyfirewrites @viawrites-andacts

19. Pandora’s Box

    Something felt off.

    It wasn’t the same sort of off that came with glowering at entitled individuals to get them to give Trinity some space or the kind that came with feeling like she was in danger. No, it wasn’t unpleasant like that. It was a gentle, floaty sort of feeling, something sort of like fondness that she just couldn’t put her finger on because she wasn’t quite sure she’d felt it before. Azure looked up at her friend, that feeling in the back of her mind trying to present itself but lacking the vocabulary and clarity to make any headway. He was talking to her, saying something in that soft voice he used when he didn’t want anyone else to hear them or he was trying to reassure her that she had no need to be nervous. It was such a soothing tone, she realized with a small start, that she hadn’t even been paying attention to what he was actually saying. Her cheeks flared red and she coughed a little, looking guilty. 

    “Sorry, I didn’t hear that. The music’s a little loud, what did you say?”

    “I said, dinner’s over. Care for a dance?”

    Trinity was standing next to her, his hand out in offering. He was always so polite, even after months of… whatever this was, asking before each dance as if she was going to say no and sit in awkward silence while the other couples swirled around them. It was like some sappy romance novel she’d devoured growing up-- the handsome prince asking “may I have this dance,” taking the princess’ arm, pulling out her chair for her… and she had to admit Trinity looked the part, in his perfectly tailored waistcoat. For some reason, Crim had gone strangely old-fashioned for tonight’s style-- Trinity even looked a bit like the illustrations in those old books, with his long coat and silver embroidery and hair shining a soft gold in the false candlelight dancing from wall sconces scattered about the hall. He smiled at her, hand still outstretched, something oddly… hopeful, in his expression. Or was she imagining it? She’d never turned down a dance with him before, there was really nothing to hope for.

    “Right, of course. I’d love to.” She smiled up at him, crooked and even a little bashful, and set her work-toughened hand in his larger, softer one. He helped her up out of her seat and she tried to keep her internal voice down as she quelled whatever this feeling was in her stomach that had begun the moment their hands touched. She stepped carefully with him out to the dance floor, goosebumps covering her skin as he placed his hand on her waist. Something strange was happening, and it was really weirding her out. Maybe the food was bad? That was doubtful, someone’s head would be on a pike if any of the people at this event even thought for a minute the food wasn’t made properly. That took out drinking too, because she hadn’t had anything that wasn’t water today due to some maintenance she had coming up soon. The mystery deepened, layers of what it couldn’t be peeling away.

She’d been staring at his jawline for a full thirty seconds now, and she had been flushed red nearly the last forty-five minutes they’d been here. She was beginning to look feverish. As they began the lazy, spinning journey across the ballroom they’d taken so many times before, he leaned towards her, his lips centimeters from the curve of her ear. His breath was warm, ghosting across her cheek as he whispered.

    “You alright?”

    She shivered and nearly stopped breathing, her head a jumbled mess and eyes wide. Was she alright? She had no idea. She wasn’t dying, so she was probably alright. Her head bobbed up and down and she looked in his eyes, deep and green and pretty. Trinity’s eyes had always been pretty, she’d known that, but she didn’t remember them being so pretty. Maybe it was the candlelight? In the back of her mind, the single brain cell that WASN’T occupied with trying to figure out when his eyes had gotten so green reminded the rest that he’d asked her a question, and nodding alone wasn’t really going to cut it for an answer. She looked startled.

    “Oh yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a little warm, that’s all.” She’d always been a terrible liar, but she hoped against all hope he’d just take it at face value, just this once. She cast her eyes around the room, hoping to find something to talk about that wasn’t herself. Her eyes fell upon a couple in a dark corner, arms wrapped around each other and swaying off beat, smiling ear to ear and conversing quietly. She smiled and motioned with her head. “They look happy, ain’t that out of place here.”

    He followed her gaze, those eyes like a searchlight into her soul leaving her for a moment. His lips curled gently, a soft smile most people here wouldn’t believe was an expression in his repertoire. Sometimes even she couldn’t believe she got to see it. “I’m glad for them. You have to find happiness where it comes, in this kind of life, and too many of us forget how.”

    She nodded and smiled, humming her agreement as she looked back up at him. Then, a question surfaced, brought on by a conversation they’d had in a hallway a few months prior and the memory of a sad look in his eyes. Her brows knit together, and for a moment she was very concerned. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper as her heart pounded. “...Are you happy?” 

    Trinity turned his gaze on her once more, his face distant as he seemed to consider. “Right now?” Those eyes came back into focus, and his smile once again lit up their tiny corner of the world. “Yes, I’d say I am.”

    A wave of relief washed over her to see him smile, and then a memory tickled at the back of her mind. She was ten, and her mother was signing divorce papers.

    “Mama,” She asked from her seat across the table, a pencil in hand, “What is love anyway? How are you supposed to know how it feels?”

    Her mother had sighed and turned over a page, looking up at her with sorrowful eyes. “Mija, love is what you call it when there’s nothing more important to you than knowing someone is happy.”

    A second wave, this one of realization, hit her like a train. All Trinity heard in their shared comm was a quiet little “...oh”, before her left foot tried to step where her right foot already was. Her ankle twisted out from beneath her, sending her nearly crashing to the floor.

    Before she could hit the ground, or really before it was even obvious she was falling, Trinity’s strong arms around her shifted and tightened. Suddenly, her hand was clasped in his, the other firmly on the small of her back, arched gracefully in a way she wouldn’t have thought she was capable of. He was holding her in a perfect dip, as if it had all been intentional. Of course, she would realize all of that later. For now, time was lost to the two of them, lost as they seemed to be in each other’s eyes. 

    Time outside their tiny bubble ticked on, of course, the sudden change noted by curious eyes all around the ballroom. Couples shifted in their dance steps, eyes met eyes in conspiratorial glances-- were they about to see a proposal tonight? Others couldn’t help but falter in shock at this never before seen side of Trinity Jericho, known to be icy on the best of days. How many of them, or their children, had he turned down only to be transformed into the sort of man who romantically dipped women on the dance floor by one brash southerner? Two pairs of eyes, on opposite sides of the room, turned away in unified frustration and disappointment. Perhaps it was too late for them-- each of the people they’d been longing for at a distance seemed now even farther away.

    But then the moment had passed, barely an instant to the two who had been locked within it, and Trinity smoothly swung Azure back up into his arms. Their steps resumed. Unsurprisingly, he seemed to have recovered from their little mishap more easily than she.

    “And here I thought we were past you tripping over your own feet,” he murmured, thinly veiled amusement evident in his tone. She tried and failed to come up with something witty to say back, her head so clearly somewhere far away from where they were. Her cheeks darkened, the rosy hue stretching to her ears and shoulders, and she wouldn’t, couldn’t hold his gaze. 

    “Sorry, I was thinkin’ about somethin’ else.”

    Whatever it was, he hadn’t noticed it in the comms. Either she’d gotten better at keeping thoughts to herself, or he’d been a little distracted too. No further explanation seemed forthcoming, though, and the last thing he wanted was to push her when she already seemed a little… off. He nodded, allowing her to brush the topic aside, and pulled her close as the music shifted into something slow and sweet. Very close. After all, he wouldn’t want her to trip again.

20. Brotherly Interlude

    Three hours, some cybernetic tinkering, and three cups of black coffee later, Azure finally felt like her heart wasn’t about to leap out of her throat, but now it was instead hanging low in the pit of her stomach. Once the delighted high of her realization faded, the guilt had set in. It felt wrong to care for Trinity, something forbidden and foreign stripping the joyous feeling down to something upsetting. The entire purpose of her presence at these stupid events had been to keep potential suitors and their pushy families out of his hair. It felt like a violation of his trust, to develop these feelings he was avoiding from others, and she had worked so hard to gain that trust in the first place. She cared about him, about his well being and his happiness, and she couldn’t see how not only making him reject her, but making him then go to these things alone again to avoid her was in any way helpful. He’d be back at square one, but with the added issue of the only person he could ask for help now being part of the problem. Sure, he’d told her the first time that it only had to be a one time thing, but then she’d asked to keep going, and now this looked like the world’s worst ulterior motive to deny other women access to him so she could isolate him and keep him all to herself. It was a horrible concept, and she hated herself for even bringing the possibility to light.

    And she wasn’t even a good match for him, all number crunching and heavy boots. He deserved someone light on their feet and pretty and kind, so kind, just like he was.

    She was sipping at the beginnings of mug number four and wondering how she’d ended up in this mess and how the hell she was going to get out of it when her brother, shirtless and with a fresh coat of blue developing in his hair, entered the room. Her shoulders stiffened and then purposefully slumped, trying to look normal. Crimson tossed her what she found out was a scone once she’d mindlessly taken a bite. 

    “Put a shirt on, dumbass.”

    “Aw get a grip, where am I gonna be comfortably shirtless if not with family?”

    “Weirdo.”

    “Nah, you.”

    She smiled mechanically and dipped the sandy dry baked good in her cup. Sweet, with a little bitterness from the coffee. Crim sat himself on the edge of her workbench table, thoughtfully and carefully dropping every crumb onto her workspace. He looked at her with a measured gaze that she knew was trying to tell her something that she just didn’t want to listen to right now. He cleared his throat.

    “How’d your date go?”

    “Wasn’t a date. Just a favor.” It was a lot harder to hide the strain in her voice that she couldn’t get a lid on when it was her brother she was talking to. She didn’t want to want it to be a date, it’s messy and that meant it wasn’t going to be easy to solve and she hated things that weren’t easy to solve. Except she did want it to be a date. Really badly, actually. Which again, was the problem in the first place. She pulled on a wrench a little too hard and it went flying across the lab. Crim ducked and winced.

    “The eightieth favor, and ya came back redder’n a summer sunset.” Her beloved brother ignored it, like the loving family member he was. Look at him, pressing the initial issue. She wondered if she was like this to him when he got weird and locked himself in his little studio to do mountains of paperwork alone in between four minute naps and four AM meals with Perry. Maybe she should be nicer to him. He was all she had at the end of the day after all, it was just such a shame he was such a little shit. She brushed a few crumbs off her table.

    “Listen, ain’t my fault the rich and influential like blowin’ money just to gossip like they could at a knittin’ circle.”

    “You don’t have to go, you know. I know you hate these things, and any man worth his salt would tell ya you’re free to stay home.” He took another bite of his scone and avoided her eyes, like he knew the contact would make her jumpy and defensive. He was right of course, about men and the eye contact, but then she was already jumpy and defensive, so what was he doing other than mitigating damage like he always did for her. What a good twin.

    She hesitated a moment before responding. She definitely did hate the events, with the overdone glamour and the careful answers to thinly veiled questions about motive and expertise. It was like playing a game no one would tell her all the rules of. She was horrible at games, and she was even worse at talking to people when she knew they wanted to rip her apart. But she didn’t really have to, Trinity had her back, every step she took.

    “I know, but he’s alright, and he needs my help.”

    Her brother shifted to stop leaning on her desk and grabbed the small hand broom she kept nearby to start sweeping bits of scone off her table. She realized with disgust that he’d just been eating it dry. She held out her mug. He leveled her with a look as he sipped it. 

    “Your taste in hot beverages needs help.”

    “Not my fault you need forty packets of sugar minimum to power your ability to breathe.”

    For the first time in longer than she’d want to admit, she watched her brother laugh and try to force down some hot bean water in his least favorite form.

    “Touché.”

    “Backwater hick, speak Terran-English like you were meant to.” She smiled as she took her mug back and dunked into it one more time. She had hoped maybe the joke would change the subject, but damn if stubbornness didn’t run deep in the family. Crimson skipped right back to the topic originally at hand.

    “Azzy, you know that it’s a little outta character for you to keep doin’ somethin’ you don’t like when you don’t have to. What’s goin’ on? He blackmailin’ you? The dick’s bomb and you don’t wanna share, what is it?” He threw the joke in to keep the mood light, and she knew that, but she choked a little on her oversaturated scone anyway. Her brother, ever observant, laughed again, and she’d be happy to see him happy if it wasn’t at her expense. “Oh Azure, you dun caught the bug, huh?” He was still laughing as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and decided it was best to take his leave while he still had the last word. “Good luck with that, Kari. You’ll need it with a man like that, I’m sure.”

    She couldn’t formulate a response in time, so she drained the rest of her coffee and returned to her work, ears burning.

[nshah2]

First Part of Story Lolz: The first step into the cavern isn’t that dark. People believe it is but they’re just intimidated by the dark green moss that grows around it along with the spiky vines. Marie Jane? The Marie who likes to switch between Mary because it makes her feel chic? Oh she was just flabbergasted to the even proposition of stepping one Louis Vuitton, red high-heel in there. Even so, she was curious about the bright side of the cavern, as much of an oxymoron of that statement is. Everyone is.

Alex Lyres, skinny jeans and long sleeves, brown skin or hairy arms, one of the two, that is unsuspecting of outside analyzing, and depressed green eyes. They  fell silent in front of the cavern, walked in slowly in a trance of the great things that awaited, pushing away the wispy spider webs and teething bats. I hope she doesn’t get lost.

Kamila Civet, she ran. She ran straight in, we hardly saw her anymore. She’s addicted to the cavern, she likes to run through all of it. She can’t handle the darkness though, it pushes her out with sharp black nails, sometimes it only used two, sometimes it used all.

The cavern does terrible things, it made me lose what was alread lost.

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Chapter 1:

A tip of a black word that could have meant to be blue grazes me everytime I step out of my house. Ten thousand words clutter the pages of others' mother tongues, so you can imagine the scars that yielded me weak to the eye of the majority. Fading away into the deepest shadow of Oaktown High seemed to cloak me with the power of moving through the halls without being at a sword's end, or at least at one I could see. I had grown comfortable with this lifestyle because it’s all I knew along with the wrappers of mistakes in my closet. But please do not play the chorus of slow violin notes because I am not my paragraph, I am my essay. 

I couldn’t say the same about Mary Jane.

Gaggles of laughter follow her tall figure, swaying with her long blonde hair. Skinny arms wrapped around the shoulders of her companions whose skin is as unblemished as their reputation.  Longing stares from the girls and boys who smile for status. An idolized individual that excelled at whatever you did not. “Okay, okay, listen!” Samia Davenport tries to reason, “Ignore the fact he’s a ginger. He’s cute.” Mary squeezes Samia’s face and squeals, “My little babushka is growing up. She likes men who aren’t on reality T.V too!” Samia swats her arm away, trying not to laugh. “Oh shut up, don’t deny that Dave Hansen is absolutely my soulmate.” Dave Hansen? Interesting, stupid choice. The boy who spread a rumor about you being homeless in eighth grade? The boy who chopped your hair off in ninth! The boy who smirks and everything feels like a blissful high, a serenity of happiness flooding through your brain. Too bad he likes Maya, who dismissed half of his heart with a slur that demolished him into succumbing to a camp which told him, be Christian, not you. 

They’re idiots for craving such expensive baggage because they know they can’t have it, though I can’t fault them. I’ve -however- learned to push my credit card back into my pocket and tame my legs to walk out of the store. 

Mary nods with disinterest as she eyes Ms. Alejandras classroom. “Wait up, okay?” She grinned at Samia  and rushed in the door. “Ms! Ms. Alehandra, I was wondering if I could obtain some extra credit?” 

“Mary, just turn in your missing assignments . I’ll give you 50% for each.” 

“I lost all the papers.” 

“I can print new ones.” 

I watch the exchange with dancing pupils, careful to not let my shadow get into the light. Mary has fists furrowed into small pockets with inching frustration poking out of them.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Tapping on the linoleum floor, 1, 2, 3, 4…

“It’s uneven. It has to be 0-5, 5-10, 15-20. Right now if I do an extra credit assignment it’ll finally be 0-5.”

“Does it have to be in 5s?”

“More satisfying in 5s ma’am.”

Ms. Alejandra adjusts her long brown pencil skirt and touches Mary’s shoulder. “Read a book after you complete your missing assignments and then talk to Dr. Vienna.”

 

Mary sighs, she nods a quiet thank you and walks away with red fists and a crippling smile. “Did you get the extra credit?” Samia asks. Mary laughs , “No, that idiot was like ‘oh just talk to Dr. Vienna after you do it. Like oh cause he always helps, blah, blah.”

Dr. Vienna, the man who thought if you met him or his staff every night at 8:00 pm to get your daily fix of yellow, blue, pink, or green you could be cured from your worries. I mean, he’s not wrong. But yellow turns to blue and blue to pink and pink to green and then thousands of green clutter a controlled mind.  

“What did you say?” Samia asks.

“I was just like ‘Yeah, sure, whatever haha.”

“I would have just cleaned her room right then and there, just ignore her and start cleaning.”

“Oh, if only.”

A familiar buzz sounds through the halls. A calling for lost luggage, they want to keep alive. Too bad our owners aren’t coming to pick us up any time soon. Airport security was a hassle enough the first time.

Most of us groan and walk to  the assigned seats and watch the numbers. Dr. Vienna sits with the ones who watch too carefully. “Don’t you wish you were like them?” Says the blonde girl next to me, tapping my shoulder. “No Kamila, I don’t.” She rolls her eyes, “Well then you're crazy, imagine how easy it is for them. I can’t believe some of these girls came voluntarily. It’s like being Albert Einstein and then going to a camp that teaches you to be dumb.” Kamila eyes her cheesy potato cubes and boiled egg on veggies. She stuffs all of it in her pocket, one egg slice, one cube, one veggie at a time. Staring, being mesmerized by the girls who grasp control over uncontrollable behaviors. I want to tap her shoulder like she did to me but I know she’s so much more cluttered than me, she would trip over all her the mess in her brain to think that’s pretty. Mary walks to our table with her plate of food, a lunch of one cookie, one apple, two pieces of lean fish, a salad, and a baked potato. “Just be balanced.” Mary said, smiling shiny white teeth. “Do you really want to go into the cavern just to look like that? They’re miserable.” Kamila glared back, “Oh please Mary. All 5’8 of you would want to sit there and look like that. Everyone does.” Mary sits down, “Of course everyone does. But it’s not worth it. Besides, the cavern is so gross and if you go the wrong way you are done forever. You don’t even get to be them. “

Kamila scowled in disgust, “Ugh you know nothing! I already did, I got lost too but I’m going to go back and find my way in.” Mary laughed, “Kamila, you're going to go in there and never get out. You're going to want to keep going. But you won’t be able to. It’s like a cigarette, you’ll be addicted.” 

“What’s the cavern?” I popped in. They looked at me with shock.

 “You don’t know what the cavern is? It’s literally why almost everyone is in here. What are you in for then?” 

“My parents got sick of having a kid who doesn’t know how to love them.” My flat response. It didn’t even feel like I spoke, I just opened my mouth and the words fell into place. The ones I was hoping would never come out. 

“Oh.” They said in unison, eyes wary of the girl they once thought was innocent. Would it be better if I had gone into the cavern first? Got addicted to it, whatever ‘it’ may be.” Uneasily Mary explained, “If you haven’t gone into the cavern, it’s best you only know it by its code name. It’s not actually a cavern.” 

Kamila joined in, “I came in here for other reasons too, then I learned about it and started. You need something to distract you here. I mean but if you haven’t started it, find something else.”

“Just tell me what it is.”

They both looked at eachother, they seemed indecisive. Should we tell her? I could practically hear the words they looked at each other with. It couldn’t be that problematic, could it? “I’m sure I’ve heard of worse.” They both shook their heads. “It’s not that you haven’t.”

Kamila tried to explain.

“It’s just that you can’t try it once and be done. If you try it, you're done for. It’s not murder obviously, it’s...it’s like everything bad on this world is labeled in colors. Blue for normal, green for normal but you're slipping, orange for hey this is getting bad, and red for you messed up. The cavern pushes you to orange right? But then you like it so you keep going and slip down to red. Then it's like...it takes all of it’s rocks and barricades you with them. The oxygen is slowly slipping away, you know you will die. But in your mind that's worth it so you either die or someone pulls you out.  Hardly ever does anyone pull you out though.”

  

Chapter 2:

All week I had been curious to what the cavern was, jumping at any chance to pull the answer out of unsuspecting victims. Yet they always hushed me and pointed at a staff member or harshly whispered something along the lines of “if you don’t know you don’t need to. I shouldn’t be talking about this here.” Yet in every location I could find with every set of people available, the answer was always the same. Actually that's a false statement, as time went on the answers became more general and specific at the same time. The cavern was so wide, it had such an in depth storyline but from physical appearances it was normal and forgettable. The cavern came off as a stranger to me, a human I did not know who has a story that would make me cry if I read it.

 “Mama used to say that my eyes were a gift from the desert, that they were a sandy brown drought. “

That’s cute.” Commented Kamila. “My Mom used to call me a little bird. Since my legs used to be really skinny and I liked to wear my halloween costume wings like almost every day.”

“Did I say that out loud?” I ask.

“Yeah, you do that a lot, ponder quietly with a mysterious look on your face and then randomly drop in the crumble of words in your head.”

“Oh.”

           I’m pretty sure Mom used to say something like that. That my eyes seemed to get lost in the colourful realm, speechless to the greenery of new ideas and scenarios. I guess the cavern was a new scenario. I had spent two years at Oakwood, never once did the word cavern actually mean anything to me than the base definition. I suspected it was a hangout for teens to maybe drink or smoke, that’s why they called it addicting. But Mom also used to say “Your never far off from the truth once you make an assumption, your penny isn’t in the fairy’s hand but it’s going down the well, it’s getting closer.” It could be about smoking or drinking, but then they would have used another example to compare it to.  Reverse psychology? No, in the span of a few seconds they wouldn’t have been intellectual enough to corroborate such an intricate plan, unless they did... But they aren’t exactly top of the chain in terms of intelligence.

No, they certainly weren’t. One blank page could hold wiser knowledge than their  brains could ever learn in their lifetime. Maybe the way they mindlessly transferred their thoughts onto a piece of a paper got them an A, but they have no street smarts. A ratio that didn’t match Mary's agenda would throw her off her high horse into the dirt. If Kamila spoke a word everyone didn’t agree with she would resort back to the deep depths of her mind, not caring about the cobwebs and dirty floor. Everyone in this school is like this, stubborn, selfish brats who didn’t realise that sticking your nose in a book doesn’t make you a genius. It makes you an average person who gets a teacher's signature on her report card with a happy face sticker. Wow, good on you, a happy face, that’s going to get you through life? A happy face? 

“Little Madam, the one in the blue dress? Oh where is she, is she sticking out because of her oh so obvious dress? Or the fact that she isn’t hearing anything I’m saying?”

Everyone laughs with pasted smiles for an objective. Everyone knows Ms. Alejandra picks favorites. It’s all objective. Even her damn joke is objective, a power move, calling everyone out and making them laugh about it. Keep laughing, I’m not a clone.

Definitely not a clone of her favorites right now.

“Yes, Ma’am?” I speak, keeping my dignity upheld.

She sighs with annoyance, “Can you tell me what I was just explaining about chain rules?”

Chain rules, chain rules, chain rules...She must have just been covering it today, that fatuous fool Kamila was correct. The cavern was good for distracting you.

“I’m not sure.” I say, my voice felt like a particularly bad day on the ground near the Pacific Ocean in the Philippines.

Another sigh, this time with actual disappointed eyes. Did she expect me to know the complications of a couple of Xs and numbers labeled under-

“The derivative of f(g(x)) . g’(x) will always be f'(g(x))⋅g'(x).”

Everyone turned around to the raised hand and straight face of Alex Lyres. A matty mess of short, dirty blonde hair, bangs almost cocealing the never turned off glare in her green eyes.  Her limbs were long and skinny and danced in the wind every Friday where administrators let her be `recreational”.  

Alex Lyres who sits at the table with Dr. Vienna every day and goes to him personally for three green ones every night. She speaks seldom but when she does her words dive into your mind and almost as quickly as they come in, evaporate. She would know about the cavern, she was at the table Kamila admired specifically because people who were there  went in the cavern. Or should I say, went in too deep. But I’d have to rephrase my wording into a more casual conversation. You don’t just light a candle in a monster accompanied by darkness, you wait for the perfect time. 

Tick, Tock.

Tick, Tock.

Tick, Tock.

One-Forty. Two-a clock.

The bell dings its warning signs and Alex lifts her legs off the seat. In quick movements she makes her way to her bedroom. The teacher gives her that stern ‘what do you think you're doing’ look and she starts to slow down, hanging her head a little lower. 

“Alex! Hey!”

She looks around, uncomfortable that her name has been brought into the spotlight. Don’t worry Alex, give me the answers and the switch gets clicked off.

It gives her a chance though, a chance to slide her feet across the marble floor, static building in her soft teddy bear socks. 

“Alex, hey can I ask you something?”

“Sure, um…?”

I disregard her blank stare, notioning me to give out my name. My name has never been uttered in the walls of this wretched place and it never will. I won’t give it that power. 

“How do you do it?”

It’s like her facial features immediately morphed into a sweaty recognition about what I’m about to say.

“How do I do what?”

“Y’know…” I push, “How do you do the...cavern?”

She looks at me for a couple of seconds before shaking her head and storming away. I chase after her which isn’t hard because she speeds with caution. Why? We aren’t allowed to run in the halls but we can speed walk. She’s not going to get in trouble for speed walking.

“Yeah, I am.”

“I said that aloud?” I really need to stop doing that.

“No, I can just see it in your face. You're confused on why  I look so cautious. Yeah, I will get in trouble if I’m going ‘above average speed’ or whatever.”

My hand instinctively goes to grab my chin, I pause indecisively. It’s extra but it’s what you're supposed to do when you're confused. “Why?”

“Why do you think?” She snaps.

“I don’t know, why are you specific?”

“Not just me, everyone else in the cavern.”

My mind jumps back to the main objective and I robotically  move myself into a more sympathetic position. Arms crossed with pouty eyes, “Why wouldn’t they let you run just because you’ve been in the cavern?”

“Again, why do you think?”

“I don’t know?”

She looks at me up and down with quizzing eyes, her disbelief is obvious. I’m not sure what I did wrong, I guess I really need more information. 

Her eyes widened with shock, “Oh my god, are you that one girl who's trying to find the cavern? Oh, my friends told me you would try to find me, just forget about it!” 

I don’t care about much at all. The world is a blank page I’d like to keep clean, showing interesting written words I can not erase. If I try, the eraser marks will clutter what could have been a precise story of nothing. If I don’t care, nothing happens which is easier than risking your life for a second of happiness that will wash away. Yet, now, there are no warm arms to welcome me into a hug. No one is waiting for the three special words from me anymore. My desire from others has faded away to a past sentence no one will ever flip a page back to again. No one wants me, I have no purpose. It would make the three years pass a little bit faster, maybe once I’m out I can prove I am still deserving of those arms.

I’m not playing by a script anymore, the stage has disappeared. Emotions come rushing back as the dam has broken with that one phrase. I can’t forget about it, I can’t be denied again. Just give me something to latch onto, please.

My voice cracks and eyes water, alien sobs escape my cracked lips. Alex watches as I fall to the ground. I can’t understand why I’m crying. I don’t know what’s going on. I just know that I still feel no matter how much I want to deny. Suddenly I feel those warm arms I’ve been longing for since the first day I stepped foot into Oakwood. Alex cloaks me in kindness while I stare blankly at the dizzy walls. “Are you okay?” Alex asks.

“No.” I reply.

Alex sighs and pulls me up, “I...do you consider yourself-like...doomed? Do you think of yourself as a time bomb?”

“No, that’s idiotic.”

She looks at me with eyes that are confused, “When you get out of here, you have hope?”

I’m about to say yes, yes of course I do. I don’t even deserve to be here, I didn’t do anything. I’m fine, I-

The strong glass walls reinforced with thick creamy clay blocks  show me a reflection of a stranger. I can’t speak for her.

“I don’t know.”

“Ok.”

Alex starts walking down the hall so I follow, feeling sheepish and insecure. What just happened? Her dorm room  is void of decoration and sound, an echoless big room. 

She motions for me to go in, so I do. 

“You want to know what the cavern is?”

“Yes, obviously.”

“Ok, choose.”

She lays out three items on her bed, “Choose one.”

There is a toothbrush, a jug, and a box with cloth inside.

“How did you get this all? The toothbrush isn’t used right?”

“On my rare free days, I collect what I can.”

“You hid this? I’ve heard of smuggling phones, but a humongous jug?”

“You’d be surprised what siblings can smuggle in for you when they're giving you ‘clothes’?”

I look at the random items, “What is the point of these? What are you trying to prove, just tell me!”

She looks at me with annoyance, “Do you want to do this my way or get someone else's help. Trust me, if you really want to know you're going to do it my way. No one is as sadistic as I am to help you.”

Chapter 3:

I took the toothbrush, unsure of the faith that comes with it. I already have one so it just lies in my cabinet drawer, waiting for it’s mysterious day to arrive. I’m not sure really what or how this will lead me to the cavern. I’ve been trying it out though, in every situation I can’t really find a way to use it. So, again, my only choice is to hint a subtle lie, a little dancing shadow among the white imperial clouds. I hinder my speed from each class so Kamila’s wistful, disorganized eyes can zero in on me. Her being, well her, she’s obviously going to ‘casually’ speed up to me so she can initiate a conversation about her busy schedule. I’ll listen, or at least pretend to, while she goes on about being so tired her eyes nearly popped out from studying so she couldn’t get that one math page done and can she copy mine? 

That’s boring and I don’t have time though.

“Hey! Were you waiting up for me?” Kamila asks, tapping my shoulder.

“You can copy my math page Kamila.” I say dryly, she's not the only one who's tired from studying. 

“Excuse me?” She asks, tone offended. She walks in front of me and places her hands on her hips. “Why would you think I need that?”

“Why else would you be talking to me?” I ask, did I misread why she always sped up to me in the hallways? I’m not in any clubs, I don’t think I can help her with advice for that.

“What the hell do you mean? ‘Cause you're my friend?” Her structure relaxes a little bit, seeing my face soften into a concerned look. I wrinkled my nose a little more so I look less offensive and more defensive. ‘Slouch a bit, look down. She’s mad.’ I think to myself. It’s working.

Then the words set in and I stop for a second. The definition of a friend is a person you have a bond of mutual affection with.

“‘I’m not affectionate towards you.” I say.

Kamila looks at me with that studying eyes of hers, “Yeah, so?”

“Then we aren’t friends.”

“Yeah, but-”

“There is no “but”, that’s the exact definition of friend.”

She sighs with frustration, “Do you like garlic bread?”

“What does that have to do with-”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

She pulls out a dictionary from her satchel, “The definition of  like is to have love, respect, and admiration for something. Tell me, do you admire garlic bread?”

“To be honest, food is quite neutral as a whole to me-”

Her face looked tired and annoyed so I cut it off.

“No, I don’t admire garlic bread.”

Her face transforms from drowsy monday to a bright sunday morning, “Exactly!” With that, she strided off with her red sneakers bouncing off the marble floor through the endless hallways. I never got to ask her about the toothbrush.

Why are people so complicated? I don’t understand any of them. Why doesn’t anyone want anything from me here?