Moira

36.

TW: Mentions of domestic violence, starvation, war, murder

000d, 00h, 00m, 00s

My head felt light — almost empty — the next time I felt it; My eyes remaining closed for a couple of moments in order to recollect what had happened.

The only thing really still in my head was Monroe. It felt like every corner of my mind was filled with him; with him, and The System, and how I'd probably miss work if I wouldn't get up soon.

A light grunt escaped my lips as I sat up, eyes opening at the same time. I squinted at the bright, unnatural light infiltrating my vision immediately after. It took me a few more moments to adjust to it.

Head turning — eyes unable to recognise my surroundings — my brows furrowed lightly. The bed I was sat on was comfortable. The walls organically shaped like they always were. The color a bright white as it always was. A single tray of food stood on top of the nightstand, and a door I later found out led to the small bathroom by the foot of the bed.

Though, unlike usually, there was no natural light illuminating the room; there were no windows for that to be the case. Instead, bright lights behind the screen on the wall and similarly white lights moulded into the ceiling were the only things that made sure I wasn't sat in complete darkness.

I swallowed thickly, realising I wasn't quite sure where I was or how I got here. Contrary to what I would have expected, I was entirely calm, though; fine with the situation, even.

I didn't panic. I didn't yell or scream. I didn't even question it.

My eyes roaming the entirely blank wall, a familiar, pleasant ding caught my attention, head snapping over to look at the screen on the other wall. The lights dimmed slightly, and it was the screen that illuminated most of the room now.

"Welcome, Amidelle Gray," A calm voice said, nothing but the matching sound waves — white, their outline black on the similarly white background — displayed on the screen before me. "We hope you feel well-rested and ready to start your day."

I did feel well-rested.

"The System is here to teach you what you might have forgotten." I leaned forward in my position, legs swinging out of bed. My elbows went to prop themselves up on my knees as I rested my head in my hands.

What had I forgotten?

"The System is here to remind you of why a united nation led by Us is important and needed." The sound waves on the screen came to a halt, the background turning a light grey first before merging into an abyss-like black. "Sit back and enjoy," The voice said, still calm as the wave changed from a white into a crimson red.

The image before me faded. Faded into a sight I had forgotten a long time ago— a sight I hadn't laid my eyes on since I was merely eight years old.

What I saw first was a room similar to the one I was in right now, though it had sharp edges and corners, the floors were wooden, and the walls not quite as vibrant of a white.

And it was messy. Beer cans and empty chips packets scattered around the room, dirty plates and half-empty glasses piling up in front of the woman sat on a dirty, washed-out brown couch.

Her hair was an ashy blonde, seeming like something that could've been golden but didn't quite reach that, and instead settled for the next best. The grey crewneck she was wearing revealing the purple bruise on her neck.

The messy table was stood in front of the couch, though her attention was on something else— someone else.

A man — in his late thirties, maybe — towering over her; white tank top not covering his hairy chest or sweaty armpits, balding head on full display and making the furrowing of his bushy eyebrows even more of a spectacle.