Warning: This chapter contains negative content that is not fit for all audiences.


Magnuson


12•19•8993. 11:45.


     The inky blackness of Death seems welcoming, at times. I've met Death, but it has never liked me enough to allow me to join him. He is made of comforting shadows, relaxing pain, and calming sadness. The kind of darkness that is welcoming. The kind of pain that confirms you aren't unfeeling. The kind of sadness that drains anger, remorse, guilt, and fear from your eyes in the form of small, salty tear drops.

     Death isn't evil.

     It is simply a truth that few want to see.

     Death saunters toward me, reaching its foggy arms toward me. Its comforting, glowing eyes stare into me, as if seeing all of my pain.

     Jane appears beside me, though without her scars, with her hair intact, and with a gleaming smile. She hugs me, tears in her eyes.

     She is truly happy.

     Arcadia appears on my other side, to my left. Her chocolatey eyes look at me, enveloping me in their deep color. Her wildly curly hair flows down her back.

     "Like a lion's mane." Is how we described it.

     Death looks at me with curiosity in its eyes. It knows what I'm thinking.

     Still undecided, I look toward Jane and Arcadia, wondering if I should join Death's loving arms.

     Then Kellen appears before me, right behind Death. His tan skin glows and his blue eyes are like the sky hovering above me.

     He runs up and kisses me. I kiss back, and then hold him in a long hug, withholding my tears with my face deep in his shoulder.

     We break apart, and the three of them; Jane, Arcadia, and Kellen, slowly fade away.

     I look at death...

     And shake my head.

     Death smiles kindly, my dream fades out, and I return to reality.


•••••••••••


12-20-8993. 14:04.


     Escape.

     This is the first word that pops into my head.

     First priority: Escape.

     I lay in the same cell that I was tortured in. But this time, I'm trembling in fear.

     I try standing and find myself hobbling toward the slit in the door providing light, leaning against the cold stone wall. This is probably the dumbest idea in the world, but the door is worth a shot.

     Using the last of my strength, I whip the door open, adrenaline pumping. Three guards stand outside. The first twists around, having heard me, and I grab her arm and pull her past me and into the cell. She slides across the ground and is knocked out when she hits the wall with a bang. Meanwhile, the next guard has drawn a handgun on me and is about to shoot. I duck and the bullet soars through the air and lands in the door with a crack. I stand back up and grab the gun with my right hand as I flip him over me with my left. His head pounds the floor, and I estimate a concussion at the least. The third guard has already sprinted off an adjacent hallway to get help.

     I swear to myself for letting the smart one get away.

     I take a moment to gain strength and limp  away from the cell. I instantly feel more powerful. My Fire is back.

     I laugh to myself out of joy. Smoke envelops my body, but I breathe easily. Sparks flutter from my fingertips, but I feel no pain. I only feel an all-consuming power inside of me.

     I hear a fire alarm and truly laugh for the first time in weeks.

     I'm free.

     Now to find the others.