C⃒H⃒A⃒P⃒T⃒E⃒R⃒ 5:
The Psychiatrist
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I lay on the ground covered by a thin blanket, looking around at the wooden shack. There was no roof, only a tarp. The walls were made of plank wood and looked sloppy. But it was do-able. It was better than laying out in the woods having to take shifts keeping watch.

Even so, I didn't sleep much the night before. I was too paranoid about being around a strange group of people. I was worried it might be a sick trap.

I checked on Ellie, who was sound asleep for the first time in what seemed like forever. I often wondered if she was aware that the world she lived in was wrong. That none of this was ever supposed to happen. If she did, she would think it as unfair as I did.

I rose to see my dad fully awake. He sat up when he heard me. We looked at each other but didn't say a word. We didn't need to. We have this sort of bond where we know exactly what each other is thinking; at least that's what mom used to say. She said it was because our brains worked the same way.

It hurt to think of mom. I pushed the sorrow down my throat and got up.

With just a few words we established that I could look around while he stayed there with Ellie while she slept. I went out to see the bustling crowd chatting, trading, and working. I turned to a group of people sitting in a circle. They all seemed young, or at least closer to my age which made it a bit easier to approach them. "Hey, could you guys tell me where I can fill out the form thing?"

For a moment they just looked at me without movement. Then a girl stood and stepped out next to me. "I'll take you," she volunteered. If I had to guess, I'd say she was about 4 inches shorter than me, average height. She had messy, shoulder length brown hair that glowed with a red halo in the morning sun. Her eyes, like her hair, were a mix of red and brown and were the focus of her small round face. She was pretty, in a kind of there's-no-makeup-or-skin-care-products-but-you're-still-cute kinda way. That was, admittedly, one of the most eye opening parts about the end of the world. It's no wonder girls would complain about the work put into their appearance. I never really noticed until it was gone.

I followed her past other people and let her brown hair lead me. "You probably don't recognize me," she said, keeping her back on me.

"Should I?"

"I was in the Recruiter party of people that took you here."

"Ah, the group that pointed guns at my head," I said bitterly.

"That's the one," she said with a bounce of cheer. "Look don't take it personally. We were just doing our job."

"Your job is to kidnap people?"

"It wasn't kidnap. You aren't a prisoner. You're lucky Atom even considered you and even luckier that Dragon accepted you." The cheer faded out of her voice and she became defensive and stern.

"I didn't even ask to be here. Why do you people assume we are staying?"

"One: you just asked to fill out a form." She smiled cockily, the light coming back into her voice.

"Well that doesn't mean I'm gonna do it. I'm just going to ask a few questions so I can consider it," muttered, now the defensive one.

Her knowing smile that peaked out as I caught up to her side irritated me. She continued, "Two: Would you rather go back to the woods where you fight every second you're alive?"

I didn't answer.

"Ok then. Since there is a big possibility you're staying what kind of person will you be?" The question by itself seemed incomplete, even in her tone. I cocked my eyebrow.

"I don't know what you mean."

She stopped in front of me and I exercised my brake system in trying not to run into her. She whipped her body around to face me and held a smug smile and two fingers up. "There are two kinds of people here; those who keep the past and those who leave it. People who keep the past are called Remenists. They are called by the same name they have always been called and are open about who they were before. The people who leave the past are called Obliterists. They change their name and don't tell anybody anything about who they were. The name they choose reflects the person they have become."

As I walked I thought about the names of the people I'd heard; Toxic, Dragon, and Atom. They were all Obliterists.

"Which are you?" I asked her as we began walking forward again.

"I'm an Obliterist. You'll find them a dime a dozen here. It's pretty rare now of days that someone is a Remenist."

She stopped in front of a large building with double doors. "Here it is." She waved her arm vaguely toward it as she looked at me.

"Here what is?" I asked, my eyes running up the sides of the building, thinking it looked like a satanic church. It had a dark exterior and the windows allowed no eyes inside to the black. The architecture was something out of Edgy Victorian Goth magazine or something along those lines.

"This is the Memory Banker's office. She'll explain things to you and she has the format for your form." The girl began to walk away, her job finished. I almost didn't want to go alone, especially into a place like that.

"What's your name?" I stalled, watching her slowly turn back to me with a smile.

"Diamond," she answered gently, her eyes sparkling like her name.

"May I ask why?"

She giggled. "The kind of person I wanted to be was a diamond in the rough. It's a little cheesy but . . ." She shrugged and glanced away before looking back at me. "Do you know what your name is?"

I thought hard about this. What I say next will be my whole reputation that I will be required to live up to.

"Corey," I told her. "My name is Corey Goldman."

She raised her eyebrows but then nodded with a smile. "Nice to meet you, Corey Goldman."

"Likewise," I said, opening the doors to the ominous building.

I was met with a rather dark room with a large window that didn't let in much light in. The dark walls left nothing for the light to reflect off of. It was dim but not in a particular eerie or threatening way. It was calming and the room was the perfect balance between warm and cool. There were two chairs facing each other in the center of the room but that was the only thing there. I did a few turns and noticed a door to the right of the entrance. I slowly walked over to it but didn't get far enough to even touch it when it opened.

A girl came out I a long flowing white dress that swept over the ground behind her. Her hair was blonde and wavy, her eyes a bright blue, like a starling's egg. She smiled at me and seemed to cast her own light into the otherwise dark room. "Hello." She said in a silvery voice. "My name is Rambelle. Who might you be?"

"I'm uh-" like an idiot I sat, gawking at her and not finding the words to say. "I'm-"

"Wait." Her voice came out softly and she held her finger to her lips. "Before you say anything, I don't want your name, I want who you are." She said. I had no response. This seemed to be a common question from people in this camp. Probably to avoid having them say their real names so they have the choice of what they will be called later. Or maybe so that they are identified not by just a label but with the essence of who they are.

"I'm a guy . . . who is over protective of his family. I'm a lot like my dad. I will do whatever it takes to keep them safe." I said firmly after finding my voice and will to look at her without gasping for breath.

She gave a slight nod and the corners of her mouth curled up in a soft smile. If wings had appeared on her back and a halo over her head, I swear I wouldn't have been surprised. If I had to describe her, I would say she was a motherly angel, though she didn't look much older than me.

"My name is Corey. I've been told about the Remenist/Obliterist situation and I made my choice. I am who I have always been and will continue to be." I told her, relaxing my shoulders a bit. Something about her gaze and sweet, innocent features was soothing.

"Good. I'm glad to have you here, Corey." She said, taking a few steps further into the middle of the room where the two chairs sat. "Please, have a seat." She said politely before turning to look at me as I followed her toward the chairs.

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Name: Corey Goldman
Age: 18
Height: 5'9"
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
O/R: R
Registered job: Recruiter