The Brave and the Broken

Welcome to the Glade

Oblivion: the state of being unaware or unconscious of what is happening around you

     I awoke to pitch-black nothingness, a siren wailing in my ears. My head pounding and my palms sweaty. I was feeling nauseous; like I had to throw up but, for some reason, I couldn't, as if I hadn't eaten in days or something. My mouth was dry and my ears were ringing with the sound of the siren. That God-awful siren. Gosh, did I wish it would just stop! Where in the world was it coming from? I tried to move my head to look around, but the pain was too much to bear. There wasn't enough light to see anything anyway, it seemed.

     I lay there on the cold surface of whatever this thing was that I was stuck in until I couldn't lie still anymore. I had no track of time; it could have been hours, or it could have been minutes. Seconds, even. Knowing myself, it was most likely the latter. Knowing myself... Who am I? I tried my hardest to think, to remember something—anything. This just made my already terrible headache seem worse—if that was even possible. I tried to shut my mind off and stop thinking, but it wasn't working.

     I finally got the strength to lift my head. I looked around but it was useless; all I could see was darkness. Where am I? I thought. I lifted myself to my hands and knees, wincing at the pain. I closed my eyes and felt around, crawling on the floor, until I hit a wall. I then stayed against the wall and felt my way around the area, bumping into some hard and seemingly cube-shaped objects along the way. I seemed to be in some cage-like containment filled with nothing but crates and myself. How did I get here? I tried my best to remember how and when I fell asleep; maybe that would give me some insight as to why I was currently in a cage. Nothing came.

     My headache still hadn't gone away and neither had the siren. The loud noise was not doing anything to help my stupid memory. Suddenly, though, a word popped into my head. Not just any word, either, but a name. Marie. That must be my name, I thought, Marie. I tried hard to remember something else, but I couldn't for some reason. I kept feeling like I almost remember something but then the thought would vanish before I knew what it was, as if every time I got close to remembering something, something, or someone, stole it away and put it just out of my reach. Close enough to torment and frustrate me, but not close enough to remember.

     Suddenly, the cage jerked upward with a metallic sound, slamming my body against the cold, hard floor of the cage once again. I tried to steady myself but the cage was still moving upward, the siren somehow getting even louder the further up I went. Giving in to the pain, I lay there limp and whimpering until the cage jerked again, this time stopping. The siren was louder than ever now but wasn't the only sound. I could also hear a group of people mumbling and whispering among themselves. It was still dark, but I felt my way to the nearest crate and turned with my head away from it. Then I laid on my back and kicked it as hard as I could. After a few more kicks, it finally gave way, just as a bright light suddenly filled the area. My eyes had finally somewhat adjusted to the darkness, making the light painful and blinding.

     I shielded my eyes and blinked hard a few times, trying to get my vision back to normal. Now that my cage was open, the murmurs had gotten louder, and I could hear conversations and remarks.

     "Wow." Someone said. Most definitely a boy.

     "What is it?" Someone else replied. Another boy.

     "What do you mean, 'what is it', it's obviously a bloody girl, you Slinthead." Said another. This one closer and with an odd accent. Slinthead?

     There were remarks of, "A girl?" and "Is she hot?" and "How old is she?" and "What's she look like?" and "Why a Girl?" as well as other things of the sort. Followed by lots of laughter and chuckling. And then a deep laugh; one that stood out from the rest. It seemed closer, like the boy with the interesting accent.

     Are there any girls here? I thought. It didn't seem like it.

      "And how would you know, Newt? It's not like you've seen one." The boy with a deep voice laughed again.

     "Just slim it and shut up. All of you!" Said another deep voice, this one raspy. "I'm going down there."

     Then a thump as a tall, young-looking boy with short black hair jumped down, staring at me. He headed in my direction and so I reached into the crate I had broken, looking for the heaviest or sharpest object I could find. Anything I could use to defend myself, should it come to that. I saw the light reflecting off of something shiny and looked over, seeing a dagger. Perfect! I reached over and gripped my hand around the handle just as the boy crouched over me, close enough for me to take in every feature of his face. He had blue-green eyes that just seemed all too familiar, even though I was quite certain I had never seen this boy in my life. His lips were pink and chapped and his face was sweaty and dirty and slightly freckled and burnt from all of the time he seemingly spent in the sun. He had a scratch on his cheek and a small scab on his big nose. But all of that was nothing compared to his eyebrows. It was slightly humorous; they were arched more than anyone I had ever seen before—not that I really remembered any people I had met before now. There were no real memories, just glimpses of faces that meant nothing to me, and I was hit once again with the feeling of those memories being stolen and put just out of my reach.

     I was taken aback and hesitated to lift the blade. When I did, though, he grabbed it with one hand and put his other up to show he meant no harm. Or, at least, that he wanted me to believe that he meant no harm.

     "Whoa there, Greenie. No need to try 'n kill me, just tryna help." He said. His deep voice was slightly harsh and scratchy yet somehow calming at the same time, even in the situation I was in. But I still didn't know if I could trust him. I took my hand out of his, along with the dagger, and threw the dagger to the other side of my cage. There was no way I was letting him have it. He looked in the direction I threw the blade then back at me, smirking.

     "Got ourselves a feisty one, don't we shank?" I heard from above. Again with the weird words!

     The boy's smile faded, "I said shut it!" he yelled up to the group of people. He started to stand, reaching out his hand for me to take. I sat there, unmoving, refusing to take the hand of a stranger that I still wasn't sure was a friend or a foe.

     He sighed. "Look, Girl. You don't have to come with me, but would you at least get out of the box?"

     "I have a name, you know." I glared at him as I stood and started to climb out of the box.

     "You remember it already?" He replied, climbing faster than me because of his tall build.

     "Yeah, it's—it's the only thing that I can seem to remember," I answered.

     He got to the top and climbed out, then stopped and nodded. I stopped too, not quite out of the box yet.

     "What's with that?" I questioned at the same time that he asked "What is it?"

     "Sorry, what?" I asked.

     "Your name. What is it?" He asked again.

     "Oh, um, Marie," I answered. "I think..."

     "Well then, Marie," he said, reaching out his hand again. This time I took it; I still may not be able to trust him, but, if I had to come out of the box and see all those other people, I would probably feel better with someone else by my side anyway, regardless of who he is or the fact that I met him just seconds ago.

     He half-smiled when I took his hand and helped me get to my feet; it was the only kind of smile I had seen on his face, and I found myself wondering if he ever smiled full-on. Then I realized I was staring and quickly looked away from him and out to the crowd of people. I had guessed correctly, there wasn't another girl in sight. They were all boys varying in age and size.

     "Welcome to the Glade." he finished.