𝖢𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖢𝗁𝗈𝗂 | 𝖢𝗁𝗈𝗂 𝖸𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇

14 : 𝖭𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝖨𝗇 𝖢𝖺𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾

[🚧]

[Y/N's POV]

A myriad of nightmares swelled in my subconscious, catalyzing the extreme pounding at the back of my head and immense pain right in my shoulder. When my eyes slowly opened, I was greeted by a tall, dark ceiling. Orange glow seeped through the tiny holes like minute spotlights fueled by the seemingly raging fire outside. Gunshots and explosions rang into my ears, bringing me to full alert.

I hurriedly sat up.

Hundreds of strangers' faces turned to me. I realized, I've been laying on a straw mat for God knows how long. I was as dirty and dusty as them. My forehead was wrapped with a recycled piece of torn cloth.

"She's awake." A little kid whispered. "Who is she?"

"Montverde." I breathlessly asked. "What happened to them? Are we winning yet?"

A pregnant woman stepped in. "We're not certain, miss. But we've overheard a guard saying that Nordame took down a quarter of the military."

"No," I got up and ran to the closed door. "No! Let me out! We need to get out! We don't deserve this! We're not their properties!"

THUMP!

THUMP!

THUMP!

My fists pounded against the hard mahogany, but to no avail. What is this? I thought we were promised a righteous liberty? An elderly couple gently pulled me back, settling myself to a chair. They handed me a glass of muddy water for it was all they could offer to drink. I kindly refused.

"A Betherel soldier brought you in here two hours ago." One of them told me. "You were bleeding so I wrapped your wound with a piece of my shirt. It's not much but it helped."

I looked away. One teenage boy raised his hand.

"What is your name, miss?"

"Y/N L/N. I'm a nurse serving the Montverde army."

A faint murmur bursted in the room. Suddenly, I received a mix of looks. I couldn't tell if they were afraid or expectant. I bluntly wandered my eyes around; it was dimly dark. Soil covered the floor. Cobwebs adorned the pillars and wood intersecting overhead. It was suffocating, considering that there weren't any windows present nor ventilation. Wobbly bunk beds lined up, accommodating at least four people per mattress. They were smelly and rotting. Everyone was clad in the same apparel; just a boring shade of grey.

"Papa," I mouthed. "I need my papa. Papa? Has anyone seen him? Is he here?"

I squeezed my way into the crowd, trying to find my parents. I called his name, my mother's name even, but I got no response. My anxiety touched the roof at that point, thinking they might not have made it back in here when the seige started.

"Nurse Y/N," a man tapped me. "I think I know where you can see your them."