S T A T U S: P A S S E N G E R D I S C H A R G E D
SEO JINYI // NINETEEN
DAUGHTER OF IONEC ENERGY
LOADING PASSENGER INFO E0593...
The girl is born in a box. The box looks like this:
PALE PINK LACQUER. ORNATE CARVINGS. MIRRORS. A MOTHER, A FATHER, A BROTHER. A HOUSE ON TOP OF THE HILL AND THE VIEW THAT WATCHES FOR MILES. SILVER SPOONS. DIAMOND DROP EARRINGS. THE WAY SILK SPLITS DOWN THIGHS WHEN YOU ASCEND THE STAIRS AS THE ADULTS START TALKING. SLEEK WHITE HOSPITAL BEDS. MORE MONEY THAN GOD AND NONE OF HIS POWER. RUNNING MASCARA. CHALK POWDER AND STAGE LIGHTS. UNTOUCHED TULLE AND SILK UP YOUR ANKLES.
(you are born as the accompaniment, the addition, the replacement. the family already has their prodigal son, and he is greatness: intelligent, charming, first-born. they are the seos, and they are man-bodied god-handed people who know nothing of tragedy until it slips into their throats with the iron of a sword hilt. the son is perfect but improperly made, strong of mind but weak in the bones. and so they try to bribe fate only to have their thrown coins rained back down over their heads. bribery didn’t work, so next they try to cheat: they give birth to a beautiful baby girl, dark-haired and dark-eyed, just less than five pounds. and an exact genetic match to the boy whose holes they are trying to fill with wellness. you are loved, you are less).
The ballerina spins to music. The music sounds like this:
SWEET, SOFT, LOVELY. DEBUSSY SWELLS AND FAIRYTALE ENDS. THE THUD OF A BODY AGAINST THE FLOOR. MOTHER CRYING IN THE BEDROOM AND GLASS SHATTERED IN THE KITCHEN. THE STEADY BEEP OF A MONITOR. THE UNSTEADY, TWITCHING SOUND OF PAIN.
(there are three spotlights: the first is gold in your foyer, the starshine of headlights coming through the window to turn you into a silhouette. you are the girl that was a gift; pretty creature, weaned on champagne, never cried once while they sanded down your teeth and pulled out your nails. the second is silver, the colour of artemis’ arrows and the faces of the girls she carries. it’s hot and wide and skirts down across the stages you learn with your feet strangled by taut silk and your hips straddled by tulle. this is the only individual pain you are ever allowed, and it burns something holy. the third is white, the colour of temporary blindness caused by ugly round headers as you wake up in a bed next to your brother. the interview of doctor to patient and father to daughter about what you are willing to do next, which percentage of your humble marble body you will carve out to make a package for another. soon, the white covers the silver. then the gold. until all you can see is the absence of anything at all).
Someone closes the box. The darkness looks like this:
FALSE HOPE.
(“it’s our only chance, darling. think about it. he will never get better in our lifetime now. the only thing we cannot buy is time, but we can purchase a temporary pass for it. a stall. everything could be over by the time we wake up. he could be healed, all of this put aside - you could dance again. everything would be as it was, only better.”)
Pandora reaches with trembling hands and opens the box:
S T A T U S: P A S S E N G E R D I S C H A R G E D
AHN HEEYEON // TWENTY-FIVE
ARCHITECT
LOADING PASSENGER INFO E0629...
This is Heeyeon. This is Heeyeon’s nose. This is Heeyeon’s hand. This is Heeyeon’s body. This is Heeyeon.
Daily Identity Crisis.
This is Ahn Heeyeon.
5’6. Twenty-Five. Blonde (dyed), black naturally. Dark brown eyes. Graduate of Seoul National University- studied Architecture. No tattoos. Fit. Speaks conversational English. Father & Stepmother. Estranged Mother. High-achieving student. Meticulous, kind, generous. Apathetic, insecure, unsatisfied.
This is Heeyeon’s nose.
It’s just like her Mother’s. Or at least, they were similar before Mother entered the world of cosmetic surgery. She doesn’t like her nose- she made it known every time she visited. Heeyeon would smile and make a note to not take her mother’s fixation with appearance to heart. She’s had enough heartache from her standards and her failure to meet them as a child, so why let it rule her adulthood?
Heeyeon knows better than to let Mother fixate and rant. It does them both a disservice and leaves her feeling bitter and unwilling to be the dutiful daughter that Father raised after Mother left. She can’t have that. No. Heeyeon is an adult now. She may be of the same blood as Mother, but she will not be her. Even though they had the same nose. The same eyes. The same sculpted jaw.
The same struggles with perfectionism.
This is Heeyeon’s hand.
Lissom fingers that always feel cold- they’re just like Father’s. They ache from hours of drawing and so does her skull; anxiety and its physicality are at times, difficult to endure. She remembers stumbling bleary eyed into Father’s study as a child, when it was hard to sleep. Hunched over, delicate fingers would massage Father’s temples, greying hair glinting in the amber light cast by a desk lamp. She’d fall asleep on the dark green leather of a tastefully designed couch and he would work until sleep claimed him, face smudging countless drawings.
As the years passed, Father’s walls were quickly filled with a number of her drawings, certificates- anything and everything to do with Heeyeon’s achievements and passion for the arts. His pride and unfailing confidence in anything that her hands touched, was what had inspired the woman to pursue the same profession as her Father. She would repay his kindness, work twice as hard, do what he couldn’t.
That’s why she accepts the ticket when her Father asks for a moment alone when she visits for dinner. Expensive, frightening, far from everything she had known- the ticket passes from her Father’s now old and weathered hands to her own trembling ones. He wants her to go far away from a world that’s crumbling in upon itself. Away from her Mother. Away and onto better things.
This is Heeyeon’s body.
Slim. Fashionable. Pretty. As a vessel, it checks off everything Mother wanted from her offspring. She fits in well with societal expectations of beauty, of privilege, of what wealth can create. Heeyeon’s image has never felt connected to the person that exists when everything is stripped back to its foundations. Before all of the dry-wall is put up, harsh corners smoothed with metal and plaster and paint, the frames of a house aren’t much to behold, empty and plain. The moment she enters her sleep, Heeyeon relishes that everything that mattered on Earth, all of her academic decorations and her carefully crafted reputation, will become obscure. When she awakes, she’ll be only months out from a new life that is hers alone to create.
It’s a relief. For too long, the woman hasn’t been able to relate to the creature that stares back in her bathroom mirror. Even as she runs through the therapist recommended method of reeling herself back in from her own apathy- This is Heeyeon. This is Heeyeon’s nose. This is Heeyeon’s hand. This is Heeyeon’s body. This is Heeyeon. A grounding check list to remind her that she’s attached to this world, this life, this body. The promise of a new world has her feeling more awake than she has in months.
This is Heeyeon.
5’6. Twenty-Five. Blonde (dyed), black naturally. Dark brown eyes. Architect. Elite Passenger Class. Nothing more, nothing less. Everything else is left behind the moment her eyes close.
S T A T U S: P A S S E N G E R D I S C H A R G E D
KIM ROWOON // TWENTY-THREE
SON OF CYNET ROBOTICS
LOADING PASSENGER INFO E1496...
you leave your father’s home in three parts.
the first is marked by silence.
you approach the dinner table in a heated march. see, you are a man made of the splinters of war and in your hand, there is a gun. its barrel is full, magazine plenty, and you cock it. this is how you describe your tongue and your hard fists: somewhere, there is a general who is trigger-happy with his commands to engage, and here you are, waiting.
second comes a scream.
it is a fist fight with words. the way mother bawls is near hysterical, her words tumbling over each other on the landscape of her tongue. your older brother looks at you with disappointment interwoven in the flecks of his irises, and from his sculpted lips, he begs, have you no love for your own family? you shoot them all dead with the bullets of your snarls.
in the end, silence, once again.
father hands you a one-way ticket on the avalon, exile dressed in a pretty, red bow. you snatch it from his hands. your younger sister follows you on your march back to your room, and her petite fingers frantically remove the articles of clothing you shove in your bag one by one. grief pours from her eyes. from her lips, denial. i can fix this, she says. give me a few minutes, she begs. what about me? you turn to her then, and as you squeeze her slim neck in the chokehold of your gaze, you retort, what about you? you tell her that in this world, there is only herself. in this world, she is alone. these are your last words to her, and these are the words she will remember you by.
/
in your lover’s eyes are all your moons and your stars.
today, you scream into her void, and oh, how ruthless are your roars. every word that falls from your lips is poison, and you force it down her pretty throat until tears gather in her eyes. she struggles with her flailing limbs, chokes on your acid, and she gasps and she begs until finally, her tired eyelids fall shut and she swallows.
today, you aim to murder an entire galaxy.
as always, you succeed.
she dies a million deaths, and when she comes back, she is a lover scorned. see, you are infectious, and everything you touch turns evil like you. so here is your beautiful girlfriend now, with bottomless eyes that put black holes to shame, and a crippling gaze like the great medusa. from her tongue, the same acid dribbles, and from this evil you have created, she feeds you a single, lethal dose of her toxin.
( a secret spilled from your loose, drunken lips on a night you had let your guard down. a secret revealed in between your midnight ramblings and your pathetic confessions of love. a secret you made her swear not to tell.
a secret that could ruin you. )
now here it falls, from her curled lips and into the ears of intrusive socialites.
you stare into her eyes and she stares defiantly back.
around you, destruction.
within you, destruction.
in the end, there is only destruction.
/
you are evil.
should a hero carve into your flesh and split your vessel walls, they will find that your blood runs viscous. black. perhaps father would have enjoyed this aspect of you, had your evil not been so unrestrained that you would tear off the hand that tried to feed you.
you are evil.
within you, there is an anger that dwells. haven’t you heard? tales of its threatening gait are passed along in the whispers that blanket the members of high society. in the scribbles on blue-lined paper that are distributed amongst your peers, they document its craving for human heads. like all myths, yours is a poorly kept secret.
you are evil.
but you are also wealthy. and so despite the threatening nature of your essence, you attract. around you, there are always people slipping their sly arms around your broad shoulders and calling you friend. but like attracts like, and so you do not attract those of pure hearts; no, the people who you call friends are those with stained souls, sinister smiles, and a heart made up of vague intentions.
you are evil.
and so are your friends. this is why they feel no remorse when they mock your too-large fists and your flaring nostrils behind your back. this is why they are blatant in the way their gaze dips along the curve of your girlfriend’s tight body. and this is why, behind closed doors, the lover you so adore is passed around your friends like a box of assorted chocolates. they all take a greedy bite.
you are evil.
oh, you stupid, foolish boy. how could you not see? how could you not know that your lover is evil, too? remember this: you are evil, and so you only attract evil. and yet, although you had seen that within the cavity of her chest lies a horrendous void, you have fooled yourself into thinking it a breathtaking galaxy. and oh, how naively you worshipped her stars. oh, you stupid, foolish boy.
you are evil.
so when you hear of your lover’s indiscretions and your friend’s betrayal, you are vicious in the way you rip his reputation apart and let its torn ribbons float into violent flames. you are unforgiving in the way you put your fist to his nose and your hands to his throat.
you are evil.
so you do not stop.
/
in your lover’s eyes are all your moons and your stars.
you fall into her galaxies and you call it love. you tell her as much in the dead of night, when you are both lying on your bed and her back is flush against your chest. though you are a man with big arms, still, a blush settles on the apples of your cheeks and you tuck your chin closer to your chest in embarrassment.
but your lover is receptive, forgiving. she turns then, her doe eyes gazing into your own, and from her chest comes a laughter that reminds you of a symphony of pretty bells. it’s rare, this smile that pulls at your lips. absent of malice. she slides closer still and presses her cherry lips against it.
that night, as your strong arms tighten its embrace around her petite figure, you tell yourself that you’ll never be afraid to tell her anything.
so you do.
you tell her about your family. you tell her about kiwoon, your older brother, and how everyone in your family admires him, yourself at the forefront. you tell her about how he’ll one day inherit the company, and you talk about how it will bloom in his capable hands. you gush about hyerim, your younger sister, and how her heart is filled with love. you tell her that for that, you are proud of her, your younger sister; but for the same reasons you adore her, so are you afraid that she will let herself be easily hurt by the people around her. but you stress that you will always be there for hyerim, and as an older brother, it is your duty to ruin anyone who dares hurt her, no matter if it means you will have to forsake your own heart. sometimes, you also talk about miss lee, the caretaker you have come to loathe.
( you don’t talk much about your parents, but not for lack of trying. simply, there is nothing much to say, for there is nothing much you know of them. )
until one night, when your usually perfect brother is drunk, and from his loose lips, he whispers to you the family secret. your lips part in disbelief and you stumble. you find your footing in the seat next to him and you skull your drink. one glass, two. from your brother’s chest comes a laugh that is absent of humour. he pats you on the back before he sways away.
you tell your lover this, too.
( your brother’s loss of composure? perhaps. the family secret?
without a doubt. )
what is it?, she asks.
my father steals from his own company, you confess.
( the one secret to ruin you and your family. your lover’s pretty lips pull into a grin. )
/
your childhood is like any other. that is, the splintered memories of one’s youth are always marked by innocent imagery.
why here, you are three when you chase after miss lee’s skirt. from your lips, machine gun laughter flows, and when you finally catch her, you wrap all four of your limbs around her legs.
you are four when you learn to paint, and in the picture you have carefully sketched, you draw your family. you proudly show this off to miss lee, this image that lovingly consists of you, your brother, and your caretaker. what can i do for you, master kim?, miss lee utters in response. you frown.
you are five when miss lee tucks you into bed. before she skates away, you utter into the cold, winter night, “i wish you were real, miss lee.”
“i am real, master kim.”
“no, i— i wish you were human.”
“i do not comprehend your question, master kim.”
“n— nevermind, just— just go away, miss lee. i don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
“as you wish, master kim.”
tomorrow, you leave her out of your drawings.
/
you leave your mother’s womb in three parts.
the first is marked by silence.
the good doctor cradles your bloodied head with both hands, not unlike the way a thief would a gold bar. see, you are precious, and that is a fact established even before you first open your eyes to greet the world.
second comes a scream.
oh, how you wail. the doctor jokes that your lungs are in perfect condition. mother laughs as she looks at the redness of your scrunched face, so filled with blood and anger, and she tells him that you look just like your father. in between your pitiful hiccups, the doctor respectfully chooses to remain silent.
in the end, silence, once again.
you are wrapped in the softest silk before the nurse presents you to your mother, but mother shakes her weary head in rejection. so instead, you are placed onto a bed tray lined with the richest linen and carted swiftly away. the chocolates, she will accept.
S T A T U S: P A S S E N G E R D I S C H A R G E D
KWON HAYAN // TWENTY-SIX
ACTRESS
LOADING PASSENGER INFO E1174...
some children have got tragic backstories that at some grade justify their adult decisions or their ability to not make them ; abandonment, betrayal, abuse, maybe even accidents beyond their control. hayan has tried to find an explanation for her ways but there’s only static noises whispering nonsense to her. kwon hayan was a popular name yet no one seemed to know who or what she truly was, how to describe such an enthralling individual with more words than those already heard? she was the perfect fantasy, a girl with a killer smile, chaos underneath her porcelain skin and and maddening thirst for adventures. she could always make herself noticed and at the same time disappear out of thing air in a heartbeat.
the kwons were average people, with mediocre jobs and incomes, but they were also loving parents to one beautiful little girl, hayan - which meant only one thing ; to be pure. yet, hayan had been everything but pure in her life. she had a pretty normal childhood, but even next to such a loving family, every so often she would find herself eating all alone and traveling to different worlds trough books and movies, lighthearted fantasies of princes and princesses, super heroes and famous people. anything but this big strange world that she was supposed to fit into. there was simply something distant about her, like she was trying to find a piece she had lost and couldn’t find it in anything or anyone. she felt like she didn’t belong anywhere and her heart just yearned for attention and adventure. she just didn’t want to be average or forgotten. she wanted to rattle the stars and carve her name into the moon, so that no one would ever forget her existence.
hayan - or pandora, as most people called her, in her teen years became a smart, rebellious and restless girl known for sneaking out at night, bringing home strangers, and rolling her eyes at whoever looked at her for more than two seconds or asked for a even a simple favor. but she also possessed a great talent - she was a fantastic performer. perhaps all those movies and books shaped her talent. some didn’t care about her, most people loved her, but everybody envied her. she had practically achieved her success overnight and as a prestigious, award winning actress, she knew what it was like to be welcomed by velvety carpets, smiling crew members and endless praising. being in the center of spotlight was always so tempting for the girl with a fear of oblivion.
for two short years, the name pandora was on everyone’s lips, magazines splashed her face with multiple rumored romances and stories, describing her as a mysterious individual with a brilliant mind full of abstract ideas. no one could quite place the scream queen into a certain category without having her slipping through their fingers, like a dark viscous substance - frightening but at the same time fascinating. she belonged to no one, she belonged to everyone. those were the good years, the years of success and pilling job offers, the years in which she saw herself as a prima donna, an a-lister. however everyone has demons, whispering into their ears, tempting them down to hell. fame was exciting to a certain point, but she always kept searching for something more. the hollowness inside of her chest just couldn’t be filled.
at the prime of her career, she met a dazzling but mysterious man with a crooked smile and wicked ideas. it was supposed to be a wild romance, like in one of those old movies, but real life was surprisingly boring. he was rich beyond belief, but he always treated her like an expensive doll. he showered her with gifts and she lived like a true queen in absolute splendor, but he never truly loved her and he simply used her for his selfish needs. however, only seven months after their first meeting, hayan became his fiance. to her, marriage was just another adventure. unfortunately she neglected her career, thinking that the world would always wait for her. but that was of course a big underestimation. while she was playing the role of a beautiful fiance, the world had moved on. they found new stars, younger, nicer and more beautiful girls that had their mind set on only one thing - success.
hayan was of course devastated because fame had been one of her ultimate goals. she begged directors and producers to hire her again, but no one wanted her. she was no longer important, like she perished into oblivion. it was a big defeat for hayan and the once rebellious and restless girl turned into a boring and average lady. life seemed pointless at that time and she simply wanted to start anew. her fiance meant nothing to her. she wanted to leave him, but without his money, she was nothing but a washed up celebrity. so, instead of leaving him, she decided to trick him. she told him wild stories about a new planet and better life, persuading him to give her money for the best tickets. of course, they were supposed to go together, but hayan had only bought a ticket for herself. she felt no shame or remorse for practically stealing his money. she just wanted to be free and her thrill-seeking heart had once again pushed her to do a bad thing.
S T A T U S: P A S S E N G E R D I S C H A R G E D
BAE JOOHYUN // TWENTY-TWO
LOTTERY WINNER
LOADING PASSENGER INFO E0981...
0. she wasn’t supposed to be born. her parents were barely adults, both eighteen when they messed up and the lines on the pregnancy test told them she was pregnant. she never learned the fact that her parents wanted to get rid of her, but once they heard the steady beating of a heart and the movement of cells through the sonogram, a decision was made.
eight months later, bae joohyun was born.
she was a fighter, fought against the crashing of her underdeveloped lungs and heart that barely thumped. she wasn’t crying when she came out into the world, and everyone was worried she was dead, but joohyun fought. fought and fought and fought.
it was two weeks later when joohyun finally came home. if a rundown apartment that could barely hold a family of three could be considered home by the societal standards.
this was how her life began.
1. joohyun learned how to walk, scraped her knees and fell on the floor. but she was a fighter, and by the next week she was running around the living room.
5. she could distinctly remember wanting a toy that everyone in the neighbourhood had—it was new, proposed many great ways to enjoy and to a child of five years old that didn’t understand the reason why her father came home exhausted late at night and why her mother had to wash the neighbor’s laundry, it was all joohyun ever wanted.
she could distinctly remember her crying, the tears that she shed as she begged and begged and cried to her mother to buy her the toy. there was a heartbroken look in her mother’s pale face, and joohyun was too young to understand the remorse of denying your child something they really wanted for something you needed.
it was the first time her father hit her. “no means no, joohyun.” he said, the stinging feeling of his belt was red against her skin. she was still crying.
“we don’t have all the money in the world, joohyun. don’t ever do this again. you’re stressing your mother out.”
it was that day when joohyun learned the truth.
being poor meant not having any luxuries in life, and being poor, she couldn’t ask for more than what she had. and this was what they were.
at five, joohyun promised to work hard to be able to afford the luxuries of life.
7. she learned how to befriend the made up people in her mind. in the afternoons she played with a girl named sally and she was her bestfriend. joohyun was never good at making friends, the kids at school and the kids at the playground never wanted to talk to her. she didn’t know what it was about her that was so repulsive, but all the seven year old wanted was a friend.
and hence a friend she made.
made up in her mind.
10. when she was ten, her mother gave birth to a little sister. she never felt alone again.
12. she was twelve when she first got her first job at the store a street away from their house. her little sister was growing, and they needed to put more food on the table. joohyun wanted to help out as much as possible. the owner was nice, he had white hair and yellowed teeth but he treated joohyun well. she didn’t know what it meant when he said “you could come to me if you needed anything” as his hand smoothed down her long locks and rested on the small of her back.
she smiled at him anyway, thanking him for the job.
a week later, she found a co-worker crying by the backdoor. she said the owner touched her without her permission—nobody believed her.
and joohyun finally understood what it meant.
at twelve was when joohyun learned the dynamic of power. the rich was the ventriloquist in this eon long puppet show.
15. it was when she finally quit school, not because she didn’t want to attend anymore ( oh no, joohyun wanted to get an education—you see, she wanted to be a politician—she wanted to change the world like many wide-eyed children hoped to do ) but simply because her parents couldn’t afford to send her to one anymore.
at this time was when joohyun realized she could never change the world. punching in the merchandise into the register and saying “thank you, come again” to the line of customers ahead of her as if on auto-pilot was what her life had been.
16. she kissed a boy for the first time. he smelled nice and treated joohyun well, he held her hand when they walked but he had friends joohyun didn’t like. when she found out that it had all been a bet, when she found out that the rich kids were preying on the pretty girl that worked in the convenience store—-she punched a boy for the first time.
18. “woah, humans had really gone a long way, didn’t we?” she heard her mother say as joohyun served them coffee during breakfast. the news talked about avalon and how it had been pioneering space travel, providing the most luxurious spacecrafts to take people into their new home.
she rolled her eyes and sat across her parents. “only the rich could afford it.”
her mother frowned. “you don’t have to be so pessimistic, it had always been my dream to go to another planet.”
joohyun shook her head, playing with her food and appetite lost already. how could she dare dream about something so farfetched when they had troubles paying the bills and putting food on the table? “at least dreaming is free.” she commented.
her father slammed his fist on the table. “joohyun, enough.”
19. her mother gave birth to a little brother. she argued with them when she learned her mother was pregnant, they could barely afford to feed a family of four—what more another mouth to feed? but when she felt that tiny fist wrapped around her index finger, joohyun wanted to work even harder to make sure this little boy grew up well.
she worked extra hours, stayed up extra late and realized that she would do anything for her family to survive.
20. a fight broke out in their household the night her mother came home, the bills unpaid and her siblings starving but she held five tickets to a lottery to the avalon in her hands. but it wasn’t between her mother of her father, it was between her and her parents.
her mother had been talking about space travel for the longest time, saying how a new planet would be the best start for them. but joohyun always knew they couldn’t afford a billion won ticket to a new planet. it was ridiculous how her mother was blinded by her dreams that the woman joohyun looked up just looked like a complete fool to her.
“you spent the money we earned to pay the bills for these tickets?!” her hand reached for the tickets in her mother’s hand, her eyes teary and ears fuming.
her mother turned away, protected the tickets with her body as her father meddled in between them. “it’s our only chance to get into the avalon, joohyun.”
she was close to tears, in disbelief at how the strongest woman she ever knew came crashing down into desperation and hallucinations of a better life. “what happens if one of us win then? what’s going to happen to the rest of us?”
her mother gave her a weak smile, but it didn’t comfort joohyun at all. “don’t think about it.”
21. her number, her face and her name flashed on the screens. the stub held in her mother’s hand shot up in the air as she pushed joohyun through the crowd. “you won!” she exclaimed, her expression euphoric as she took her brother away from her arms and replaced him with her ticket to the rest of her life. he’s crying, her little sister is holding on to her hand but her father held her back.
“mom—-i don’t want to leave!” the noise as the kaleidoscope of people pushed her to the stage drowned out her desperate pleas. she just wanted to go home with her family. but here she was now standing on top of the stage, facing thousands of bitter faces.
the memory ingrained in her mind as she struggled to look for her family in the crowd. and there she spotted her mother waving towards her, her little sister asking her father something she couldn’t make out. she felt as if she wanted to cry.
but she didn’t.
the man in the suit handed her a microphone, flashed her a smile that felt threatening. “how does it feel to win an elite ticket to avn 063?!” he asked her, briefly turning to the crowd to list the luxurious amenities and benefits she just won. but she didn’t even catch any of it as she stared at the microphone, her hand trembling.
“terrifying.” was the only word that escaped her mouth.
this was how the rest of her life began.
terrifying.
22. her eyes opened, her lungs began to expand as she took in a great inhale. there was a dry feeling in her mouth as if she had fallen asleep for a very long time. she blinked, closed her eyes and opened them once again when the light she was facing on the ceiling blinded her.
it took her long before she realized where she was.
“welcome to avalon.” said the screen presented in front of her.
