Marionette (A 'The 5th Wave' Fanfiction) [COMPLETED] #wattys2017

3. Sleepless nights; Chapter III.

    I was about to complain to him as he was slowly setting into his -my- seat when mission ‘lights out️️’ was operational. The plane lost turbulence and rocketed out of the sky. It sucked the air out of me as my seatbelt pushed into my stomach.

      Here's the catch—the passengers at the front of the plane were as good as dead when the plane fell. The ones of us at the back were safer, not dying and max with broken bones. (Not my case, though.) Ma and I were held to our places by seatbelts—Pa was not. He was thrown into the ceiling and his fragile head broke. I thought I could hear the crack! when his skull came in contact with the hard metal. A few drops of his blood rolled onto my forehead.

      Ma and all the other passengers were screaming like it was the end if the world—which it probably was, or at least the beginning of the end—but all I could do was stare at Pa's limp body plastered on the ceiling above, the newspaper from home still clutched tightly in his hand. The same newspaper I hide under my shirt.

    I sniff and furiously shake away my tears. In fury I sling my fist at a car next to me. The thing that pops isn't the car. I cry out and hold my hand to my chest gingerly. Too bad that the pain inside of me screams a billion times louder than what I'm feeling physically.

    I whimper and crumble onto the ground like most of what civilization built, feeling like a hopeless heap of Rose-ness. My bottom lip trembles. I curse myself for getting too trapped in the past memories. Once the tears start it's hard for them to stop. The weak cry. I am not weak.

    I hold my breath and close my eyes. Maybe that'll slow the unstoppable wave I brought onto myself. Wave. How disgusting.

    That calms me enough so that I can concentrate. I get up and continue walking, doing my best to ignore the agonizing throbbing in my left hand. I can't walk in nothingness forever, I reason with myself. I speed up. My little emotional outburst might have just made me an easy target. I could have blown something up and put a neon sign above me with an arrow pointing at my head. Here I am!

      Before I know it I'm running again, definitely not helping my hand. Ivy pricks my feet and gets stuck in my lacing. I fall over a few times and moments later I look like I got into a fight with a chainsaw.

    That's about when I see the light.