Ella 20

I crack my back as I sit up. My shoulders hurt, and so does my neck. It's not as bad as it could be though. I remember worse.

I remember.

Leo, Dawn, Michelle, and Ella. Eli, Sheil, Jay and Lott.

I don't understand how I didn't see it before. I was too focused on the past. I am still focused, but I missed that one important detail.

What are the odds that we rebelled against WICKED with a group of girls named after renaissance painters? Slim to none. So small that they are practically nonexistent. It didn't happen. Obviously, it couldn't have happened. I don't remember the rest of that story though.

I get why me, but why the others?

Leo is still sleeping, although it isn't peacefully. From here, I can see how her face has been spoiled by the heat and exhaustion. Maybe this is her normal face. I don't know if I've ever looked at her before.

Leonardo Da Vinci. My doctor, who was always calm until yesterday's detonation. I don't get how she can be wrapped up in such trivial things, especially when the mystery around us permeates into our skin.

Michelangelo is across the room, lying by herself in a corner. She seems at least a little bit aware of the situation which drowns us, but not enough to question it. No one is as awake as I am.

Donatello is the furthest gone. I don't even see her in the room. Vaguely, I recall that she left the Violet girl alone. Probably for a reason I wouldn't get anyway.

Sonya. I have to repeat the name, over and over. Sonya is awake. She is here, and alive, and has forgotten me. Every time I awake, I must remind myself that once again I am alone. No Eli, no Violet girl. No one knows all that I do, which means that it is up to me to end the suffering that surrounds us. It's all WICKED's fault after all. They always seem to do stuff that causes pain. They took her away from me, after all.

She's gone now too.

I get up. Moving my foot forward, I realise there is a body in front of me. One behind me too. I kneel, forcing my hands to run along the ground until I find a bag. Inside, I grab a flashlight. The click is loud, and the light bright. The flashlight guides me through the maze of sleeping girls.

Here's the thing; I'm not used to being. Physicality is entirely foreign, so when I step forward and backwards, I must strain my eyes and legs to pay attention. One side effect of living in your head is the inability to interact with the environment. Sure, I know far more than everybody on the floor, but I don't know how to use my feet. These hands are useless too. They practically dangle on strings as I'm forced to drag them around. This whole existence thing is quite useless, if we are honest with each other.

I shine the light further ahead, finally past the bodies. Walking forward, hoping she is this way, since this is the way that feels most like her. The air is warmer, that I feel, and it is simultaneously lighter.

I stumble, shining my light down. Rocks. Right.

Up ahead, I hear a retching. I stare forward and cast the flashlights glow on her. Her knees are in the rocks, and her fists dig further into them. She is throwing up on the ground.

I bend over, placing a hand on her back, using the other to delicately hold her hair. Being with her reminds me that bodies are important. She is soft, and tangible, and real, even though she is sick. She stops, leaning backwards and sitting down. I move past her vomit, sitting next to her and holding on to her side.

She coughs, sniffling, before rubbing her face with her hands. Her skin is moist, and glistening. She takes off the bandana, refolding it, before putting it back on her head.

"I get sick when I'm hungry," she tells me. "Nausea. Counter-intuitive, I know."

I don't remember that about her.

I get up, moving past her. She needs fresh air.

Quickly, I flash the flashlight on the ceiling. I find one of the breaks, moving over to it.

"What are you doing?" She asks.

She's gotten up to follow me. I make my best effort to climb the wall, to no avail. She laughs, although her attempt faint.

"You need fresh air," I tell her, since apparently, she hasn't noticed.

She smiles, sniffling once more. She wipes her eyes dry with the collar of her shirt, before moving over to the wall. Carefully, she climbs. Once she reaches the ceiling, she seems unsure of what to do.

I dig my fist into the walls, struggling to find any grip. It takes work, and I actually have to look at the walls. My hand reaches upwards, and I feel Sonya's foot carefully nudge me into a grip. I look up, and she smiles down at me.

She guides my next hand, and I somehow make do myself with the footing, and after what feels like an excruciating hour I am up next to her. I used to be great at telling time, but whenever we are apart, even if only a few feet like just now, every second is agonizingly long.

Sonya smiles at me. "Now what?"

She still looks green, and is swaying slightly, but apparently, she is well enough to hold herself on a wall.

I take the flashlight, which I had stored in my jacket (it is only now that I notice that I have clothes on) and hit the ceiling above with it. There is hardly a sound from my hit.

Sonya takes the flashlight from me. She grips onto it, carefully, and with one quick gesture she smashes it up into the ceiling. With another, it cracks, letting in sunlight.

She pauses, breathing in the air, but it isn't enough. Though the light is blinding, she needs more access to clean oxygen. I take the flashlight from her, smashing open the roof.

"What are you doing?" She hisses.

With one more hit, it breaks open. I climb out, into the morning sun. It is barely rising, which is the only reason I don't collapse from the shining light. It hurts my skin too, even in these few seconds.

"Ella!" She calls after me.

We are in an alleyway. I climb up, boxes surrounding me. Stumbling forward, I look around. On the wall, in front of me, there is graffiti.

THOMAS, YOU'RE THE REAL LEADER.

I stumble backwards, colliding into the dirt ground of the hallway. My head is dizzy, and my head aches. I try to stand up, the Violet girl holding me at my side, and I fall back down. She manages to catch me. I can't really hear anything. Gently, I feel the ground rising beneath me. It meets my back, and I roll down. I feel drool coming down my lips.

I roll my head to the side, staring down the hole. The Violet girl is gone. Teresa pops up to the surface. She pays me no mind, running around. More girls are arriving, slowly they blur together until they are one hue of grey. Green and red mix in, moving with the crowd, but no blue. No violet. I peel myself off the ground. Teresa is yelling and pointing.

I stumble closer to her, hands guiding me the way there.

I stop in front of her, and she turns to face me. Clouds of smoke are rising around us.

My fingers tremble forward, as I shove them closer to her. Pointing at her. "I remember you."

Then, I fall.