Bonus Raven's POV ›› https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/653284186/ ────── • ─ ✦ ─ • ────── ~ For the JWC Writing Competition ~ Writing by @Astrid_da_potato Word Total: 1,341 words Excerpt from a longer still-in-progress novel, Illusion BLOOD/D3ATH WARNING (may be frightening to younger audiences 8 and under!) Some wounds never heal. They just stop bleeding. My heart raced as I dove back into the cabin, still trying to process what had happened. /I can't keep doing this./ The hallucinations were getting so much worse. Dreams and memories blurring with reality. I shook myself and firmly reminded myself why I was here. In the wild, there were only two options: hunt, or get hunted. I clenched my lucky necklace tighter and took a deep breath. I couldn’t let fear creep up on my face. I couldn’t let them know I was afraid. That was the thing about war. There was no such thing as remorse or pity. Out on the battlefield, you couldn’t care about your enemies. You couldn’t think about how they had their own lives. People who cared about them. I released my breath. I shuddered. /This is for my family and my country,/ I reminded myself. /I have to do this./ I tugged my tangled brown hair into a hasty ponytail and turned, tucking away all the emotions from my face like I’d been trained to do. The past and memories didn’t matter right now. It didn't matter that I was the "broken child" who had been deemed unqualified. Nor did being the youngest soldier in the legion, at only 13 years old. All that did matter was fighting for what was right. As much as I tried not to, I still remembered the day it happened. The memories of that day flooded back. The day of the Takeover, when one of the artificial intelligence experiments went awry and started a full-fledged rebellion. My father died in that war. /No, not dead,/ I thought. /Just changed. He’s still up there, in the stars./ I refused to cry. I wasn’t that weak little girl anymore. But the flashback continued on. I had broken out of my room and stepped into the war zone, disobeying my mother’s instructions. I had run out there on pure instinct that something was wrong. And then I saw him. His hair had been cut shorter than I last saw him, in a buzz-cut. His eyes were completely blank, staring into space. Everything about him was just . . . /wrong./ His limbs flailed at an unnatural angle. His blank face was devoid of his usual kind and teasing smile. A gun was abandoned on the floor near his limp body. And then there were his injuries. I screamed when I saw the blood. Dark, coursing crimson, slowly draining through his ragged abdomen, pooling at the ground beneath his stomach. He was fading away right in front of me, the life slowly dying from his eyes. /No . . . / I was well aware of the agony in my throat as scream after scream pummelled my gullet. I just couldn't stop screaming. Everything seemed to be just spinning, spinning, and spinning. And then there was the big question: /How?!/ He couldn’t be gone. A few weeks later, though, the change was immediate and drastic. The memories kept replaying over and over in my head like a radio stuck on repeat. Back then, I could almost convince myself he was still at war, braving the challenges and will one day come back victorious. Even with all my hoping and dreaming, he never came back to us. The dark red spot on his abdomen had haunted me ever since. Even during the worst of my hallucinations, I could never escape this grim reality. But either way, one thing was for sure: My father would not die in vain. When the signal came, it was loud and blaring. /RINNNGG!!/ All the soldiers who weren’t awake already snapped to attention. The enemy had stepped on our turf. The quiet barracks had suddenly become a thrum of activity as soldiers all around me tugged their uniforms on, grabbed their guns, and headed outside. I slid my own gun out of its holster with trembling hands and tried not to think of all the family and friends I’d already lost on the battlefield. Their faces arose in my head and I closed my eyes, choking back unexpected tears. Among them all, my father’s face floated past the clearest in my head. (CONTINUED IN NOTES & CREDITS)
“Katrina!” I spun around as I heard my name and did my best to wipe my tears away. It wasn’t a good idea to show weakness--even to your own cabinmates. I breathed out a sigh of relief when I saw it was only Justin. His disheveled black hair seemed even messier than usual, as if reflecting his agitated emotions. I couldn’t read how he was feeling as I could usually do when I peeked at his ice-blue eyes. I didn’t dare make any direct eye contact, especially with what had happened. “What’s up?” Justin crossed his arms across his chest. “So . . . this is it, is it?” He didn’t finish his thought, but I knew what he meant. /This is the final endgame. The battle that ends it all. The battle that will bring us either victory . . . or death./ “Yep,” I ran a hand through my hair, trying to act casual. Justin flinched and it was like every emotion he had been holding back burst through at once. His eyes flooded with everything he wanted to say. Everything he still had to say. Everything he couldn’t say, now that our time was up. I stared at my former best friend--my best friend even now--and thought about how it had all started. We had gone through so much. And now our journey would end here. “We might not make it through this time,” he began awkwardly. “So I just wanted to say--” “Don’t think that way,” I suggested, cramming into my leather boots. My stomach fluttered and I tried to suppress my nerves. The warning bell was getting louder now, more insistent. And sounds of battle were now sounding outside. Justin’s arm twitched, like he was thinking of reaching up to stroke my cheek. My thoughts darted back to our kiss last night, and my heart fluttered against my rib cage. /No. I can’t get distracted now./ I shoved that thought away. Justin bit his bottom lip and gave me a small smile. “Well, see you on the other side.” For the first time, I looked up and stared straight into his eyes. The eyes of the person who had helped me go through this entire journey. The person who had stuck through all my foolish fears and nightmares. I wanted to throw my arms around him--but that would probably bring back the awkwardness. I hoped this wouldn’t be the last time I would see him. /Only fate can tell,/ Raven had said. And now she was gone too. “See you on the other side,” I echoed softly as he turned to leave. I finished holstering my gun and glanced at my cabin one last time before turning to leave. The organized sheets, lined bunk beds, and carefully arranged uniforms--as crazy as it sounded, this was my home. This was where I belonged. “I hope you’re proud of me, Dad.” The words slipped out of me before I could stop them, and I realized I’d been meaning to say them for a long time but just couldn’t find the right time to. I raised my face to the sky. To the stars. “I love you.” A million years’ worth of pain and worry seemed to lift off my shoulders at once, like a caged bird finally given permission to fly free. I set my path, determined. /This had been my choice/, I reminded myself. /I was the one who chose to be a part of this. To fight for my country./ This end was my choice too. I was ending this war--or my life--on MY terms. I thought of the numbers in the history books I had seen just a few months back. Those numbers didn’t just represent fatalities. I understood now that each number was a brave soldier who had sacrificed themselves for the good of their country. A soldier who had given up on their family. Friends. Opportunities. A life they could've had. A soldier who had sacrificed everything for the chance to fight and push back. A soldier like me. And with these final thoughts, I charged into the war zone.
