Brink

There's nothing more frustrating than trying to keep a diary in this place. I tried once, then quickly abandoned the idea when I realized it was more trouble than it was worth when the light is so scarce. Of course, what would you expect when you live in a sad, dirty, subterranean settlement?

It's cold down here. And the air is always dank, stale, and… earthy. You're never completely clean. I'm convinced I may actually be white as a sheet under all this grime. But we've lived this way for about eleven years now. Some people have adapted to it, accepted it, become content with it.

Maybe it's because I was too young. I wasn't able to fully comprehend the horrors that came with the Catastrophe. All I can really remember is stumbling through red mud with the panicked crowd that was fleeing the village. My mother was gripping my arm and dragging me along while my father followed behind. When I looked back, he was gone and the crowd surged forward with a renewed urgency.

By the time I reached the underground shelter, I was alone. I can't really say what happened to my mother, but I knew she gone. No one paid me any mind.

There was just Maya. A small girl around my age with dark curls and big brown eyes.

"Your hair is pretty," she said with a tiny smile.

I reached up and touched my fingers to the braid that was surprisingly still intact.

"My mother did it for me," I told her.

Maya looked around me, tilting her head when she realized that I was alone.

"Where is she?"

"She's not here," I said.

"Oh, what about your father?"

"He's not here either…"

Maya seemed stricken and she clutched her mother's hand tighter. She looked so frightened and remorseful that I immediately moved to change the subject. I didn't like her to look at me that way because I knew I was likely to start crying myself.

"My name is Mnemosyne," I told her. "What's yours?"

"Maya…" She offered.

Over the years, I grew up alongside a number of other orphans, but Maya was the closest thing to family. I never really got along with anyone else aside from her. Maybe because I hate remembering that I ever had the things that I lost. I also hate living underground with a passion. Although the memory of the Catastrophe still lingers in the back of my mind, the memory of my childhood is more vivid than the bloody dusk of that fateful day. I miss the soft grass and the gentle breeze. I miss playing with the merchant's fair haired son who used to entertain all the silly fantasies of a seven year old girl.

"You're thinking of someone again," Maya's voice whispers teasingly.

"What are you talking about?" I scoff, turning away from her to sift through some loose rocks. "I'm not thinking of anyone."

"But your mouth always curves a certain way every now and then," she points out. "You can't hide these things from me."

"I'm thinking about getting out of here and slaying some demons, that's all," I insist. "If I have to sit here and hammer rocks open for much longer, I just might take this spike to my head."

"Do you ever stop thinking about the surface world?" Maya frowns, chucking a small pebble at the back of my head. "It's so dangerous up there, Nem."

"But we're not meant to be down here, Maya," I told her, shaking the pebble out of my hair and scooting around to sit knee to knee with her. "We need sunlight and space and freedom."

Maya snorts aloud and I direct the light attached to my forehead into her eyes. She playfully pushes my chin away and I turn my attention back to the mound of pebbles in front of me.

"I'm going tomorrow to join the Scavenger team," I say, spreading it out and plucking out tiny specs of silver to drop into a tin cup. "Don't try to stop me."

"I can't stop you anyway," Maya sighs. "I've been trying since you first mentioned it years ago."

"I'll bring you souvenirs," I assure her. "Flowers don't last long, but they are pretty."

"Don't worry about any of that. The only thing I want is for you to come back safe."

"If you're down here waiting for me, I'll always come back."

I look over and give her a smile because she is the only one who ever worries about me. Maya gives me one in return despite the concern lingering beneath the surface of her eyes. Then there is a momentary spark as she is reminded of something she had forgotten in the moment. Maya digs through the numerous pockets lining her jacket and pulls out a set of two thin ribbons threaded through small opalescent trinkets.

"Take one, I made them for us," she says. "It's useless, really. But I want you to remember that you have to come back for me."

"Where'd you get the ribbon, Maya?" I ask, pulling the smooth fabric between my fingers. "Did you steal it from someone? And this is Cardium. Where'd you find such big pieces?"

I take the purple ribbon and knot it securely around her left wrist, then I extend my right hand for her to do the same with the yellow one. When she is finished, she takes my hand with hers and grins.

"There," she whispers. "I cut these from the same stone. I found a pretty big one a few years back and saved it... I asked Bran to help me make these. Now we're connected and my prayers will always reach you."

"Thanks, Maya," I say quietly. "It's pretty."

"Come on, let's finish up here and grab supper," Maya urges. "I'm starving."

I nod my head in agreement, staying silent as we returned to our tasks at hand. This time I can't help but feel a slight sense of guilt for being so eager to leave Maya down here on her own. But she isn't entirely on her own because she still has her loving parents and many friends she's grown up with. As for me, the orphans I lived with shared a sense of community and we looked after each other, but we were never close. Since we don't really have family or friends, most of us end up volunteering for the Scavenger Team, much like I'm planning to do tomorrow.

But now I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to live with myself if I come back to Maya dead or not at all.