P.O.V: Elizabeth Harmon.
I could feel my heart beat faster as I ran. I didn’t know where I was running to, only that I had to get there fast or something bad was going to happen, I could feel it. I was running down my old childhood neighborhood, and I realized that I was running to my old house. As I ran passed the houses, they caved into themselves and collapsed and then built themselves back up again. Thunder cracked in my ears and mountains of rain poured from the sky. I ran still, rain splashing in my eyes, my soaked hair wipping me in the face. Finally, breathing hard, I climbed up the stairs to my childhood front porch. I jiggled with the door handle for a minute before finally opening the door. I froze in the doorway. My mother stood there, her bright hair standing out in the house like the moon in the sky. Her lips were moving and she was facing my father like she was talking- but no sounds came out. They appeared to be making a meal of some sort- my mother and father used to love cooking together, they even made it a thing every Saturday that the whole family would help cook dinner. I heard the scraping of utensils and the sizzling of the pan, but no matter how much I tried, I could not hear their words. My feet moved without command, up the stairs. I wanted to stay in the kitchen, I wanted too watch my parents smiling and cooking, but my feet had other ideas. My feet were quiet as they moved up the stairs, that’s when I knew there was something wrong. I distinctly remember that, no matter how quiet you tried to be on those stairs, they would always creak, like they did it to annoy you. My father always joked that that would be his alarm for if me or my brother tried to sneak out at night. And yes- it did actually work, to me and my brother’s annoyance. Caught by the stairs, of all things. My feet contued up the unusually quiet stairs and carried me to my brother’s old room. His door was a solid dark blue, his favorite color. My hand shook as I reached for the door handle. I didn’t want to go in there, I didn’t want to know what I would find. I twisted the handle and the door swung open to Brannon’s old bedroom. The paint in the room was a striped mixture of black and blue, with pictures of his favorite XBox games and bands covering most of the walls. But there was nothing actually in the room. The wooden floor was a rotted mess and the only thing on in the room- was a sleek black coffin. I wanted to run, I wanted to scream and dash out of the room and never look back. But my feet moved forward, towards the coffin. In my mind, I was trying to understand why there would be a coffin in my brother’s childhood bedroom, I was too confused to concentrate on what should’ve been obvious. The lid to the coffin was open, and my head bent against my will to look down. It was my brother. His eyes were wide open and his face covered in dark red blood. I screamed. I gained back control of my feet and ran out of the room, tears rolling down my face. I took the stairs two at a time- which creaked like there was no tomorrow- and stopped immediately. In the kitchen, my parents were no longer cooking a meal together. I didn’t have to look far for them though. In what should’ve been our living room, was now a room that looked like it belonged to a hospital. Because that’s exactly what it was. I moved forward to see what was going on, this time on my own choice. There was a hospital bed right in the middle, with a unconscious woman with bright blond hair- tubes covering her skin and wrapping on her head. There were no doctors, nobody in the room but my father and the unconscious woman. I stood by my father, who was sobbing and muttering under his breath. I tried to say something, to tell him it will be alright. But my mouth wouldn’t make the sounds. Suddenly, the monitor near the woman started beeping rapidly. Still, no doctor came. And slowly, the monitor showed, and a moment later, stopped completely. My mother, that’s who it was. My confusion finally broke and I was able to understand who it was. What kind of shit is this? This is all insane! The floors and walls began to decay like in my brother’s room and the roof began to crack. I started backing away, toward the door. The kitchen was filed with mold and the utensils now covered in dust, like no-one had touched them in years. I ran out the door and as soon as I was off the stairs, the roof collapsed into the house and crumbled. The near houses began to shake violently and crumble as well.
“Liz? Liz!” I heard a voice that didn’t belong to this scenery, a shocked female voice.
Something hit my side hard, and when I opened my eyes, I was not running through my old childhood neighborhood, I was laying in my bed in the base. I gasped, thoroughly freaked out. It felt real, it all felt real. Renae was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at me with concern.
“What- what happened?” I asked. The other girls in the room were up and awake, but clearly startled, like Renae.
“The room started shaking and it woke us up, and you were- you were acting really weird.” Renae told me. She turned to the other girls. “It’s alright, go back to sleep.”
They turned on their sides and tried to fall back asleep. I sat up in my bed and faced Renae, not really knowing what to say. Luckily, I didn’t really have to. .
“We’ve all had those dreams, Liz. Don’t stress about ’em, they go away after a while.“Renae patted my hand and sighed. She crawled back into her own bed and under her covers. “It usually helps to stay up and talk to yourself for a few minutes, calm down, you know.”
I nodded. I didn’t realise that Renae had fallen asleep until I heard snoring. I sighed and looked over at a clock on Mia’s dresser. Four a.m.. Screw it, I thought, getting out of the bed, I’m gonna stay up. I changed out of my night clothes and into ripped blue jeans and a blue tank top. Renae had gotten me clothes from their storage to put in my dresser, they weren’t anything special, but they fit good. I grabbed my shoes, just plain black and white sneakers, and jogged down the stairs. There were multiple roaming about the base, including Logan and Tyron, who I met when Thomas, Renae, Donny, and I were training with a group of Missionaries a couple days back. Tyron was human and was far better than me with weapons. He was short, and usually only wore cargo shorts and running shoes. He always had two swords strapped to his back and a pistol on his side. I made no move toward either of them, and went right out the door. There was a few people training with dummies and fewer training with each other. I practiced my aim on a dummy for a while, using my telekinesis to lift the weapons and hurl them at the targets. It took my focus, my energy, and that’s exactly what I needed right now. You can’t ignore it forever Liz. A part of my mind told me, probably the realistic part. No, but I sure as hell can try. I held the knife up in my head, closed my eyes, and thrusted it into the dummy. I heard a yelp and opened my eyes, not to an impaled dummy, but to an amused Donny.
“Okay, that’s the second time you’ve tried to throw a knife at me. I’m starting to think you don’t like me very much.”
Donny had on shorts, a tank top, and combat boots. He leaned down and grabbed the knife, which had stuck itself in the dirt just beside the dummy. “Either you’re bad at aiming on a regular bases, or just because it’s four in the morning.” he chuckled and walked over to me and handed me the knife.
“Gee, thanks. Next time, I will aim for you.” I mutter, rolling my eyes at him.
“With your aiming? Please, you’ll end up hitting yourself in the back somehow. Don’t try it, Liz.” he snorts.
He reached down and gripped his own knife from his belt. He raised it just above his chest and flung it at the dummy. It hit the dummy square between the eyes. He was smirking as he walked back to his now dead target and wiggled his knife out carefully. He slipped it back into his belt and turned to me.
“You have to hold it right, you seem to throw it different ways every time. When you’re using your telekinesis, you have to feel it like you’re holding it with your hands, not your head.” he motions for me to raise my knife.
I did, and tried to imitate the way he held his knife. He just roled his eyes.
“Okay, stop, just stop,” he laughed at my miserable attempt at raising the knife. “Like this,"
He demonstrated again, and this time I did it right enough for him to let me throw it. This time it hit the dummy right in the stomach. Believe it or not, that was the intent.
“There we go, that’s better.” Donny smiled.
Donny nodded, satisfied. “Good, now try it with your telekinesis the same way. And aim for the head this time, it’s far more affective.” he ordered.
I held my hand out and the knife zipped into my hand. I took a deep breath. I could feel the cold metal in my mind, could feel it like it was in my hand. I could feel it flying into the dummie’s head, and the loud thunk confirmed it.
“Good,” Donny approved.
“Again.”
ns 15.158.61.51da2
