The first day was the easiest. Things went quickly downhill after that.
With nothing to do and no one to take care of, Ida found it hard to motivate herself to do much of anything, but nervous energy wouldn't let her sit still. She'd taken to wandering the halls and nearby buildings, feeling more like a ghost than a real person. Memories would surface from time to time, of a life she'd had here once. They were good memories, for the most part, of a life filled with service and challenges that were fulfilling to overcome. So many faces passed through her minds eye, all colors and shapes and hailing from all corners of the Galaxy. Those were the good moments, even with their nostalgic tugging.
There were plenty of bad moments. Every so often, something would remind her of a thing from the camp or a person who had died or some other small thing and suddenly she would be back in the midst of it, living it all over again. Pain, fear, loss... She'd feel it again as though it were real. Sometimes she struck out at the things around her, other times she simply stood shaking until the flashback released her and exhaustion rushed in to replace it.
It was after one of these, of the moment on the stage and the end of her life, that found Ida collapsed on the ground, her legs splayed to either side of her as she wrapped her arms around her chest. Her breathing came raggedly, shallow and rough.
Why? Why was this happening? It was moments like this she was so very sure she had gone completely insane. Who saw visions like this? Who thought they had lived five years that hadn't happened? She had never used to hate herself... She'd simply thought herself unremarkable... Average. Forgettable and unworthy. Now, shaking as she tried to calm herself, Ida well and truly hated who she had become.
She was so weak... Falling apart because of things in her head. They weren't even real. And if they were? How many times had she failed in the responsibility she had taken on? How many people had died because she had made the wrong choices? How could she have ever thought she could take care of other people when she couldn't even care for herself?
They had always said she worked to hard, that she wasn't careful enough... And it was true. Who wanted to be with someone who worked too much, pushed to hard, and looked like a wraith most of the time? No one deserved the waste of space and energy that she was. Even her planet deserved better, deserved someone who could do more for it.
Her breath caught in a sob as Ida dropped her henshin, huddling miserably in the tall green grass. Orah felt even weaker this way, but that was more proof, wasn't it? Any strength she had came from somewhere else, not from her. She had nothing... Was nothing.
She missed her family. She missed her friends. She had never been alone for so long and she hated it... She hated being alone with herself, but why go back? It's likely no one even missed her. It wasn't like she did anything useful... Anything that someone else couldn't do, and better. They were better without her and her stupidity, her childishness and blindness. Her stubborn clinging to things she didn't fully understand.
A slim hand strayed to her pocket in her cloud of despair, sliding inside to wrap around a familiar, heavy weight. The surface felt smooth, but chipped in places. Pulling it out, Orah stared at the switchblade in her palm.
She remembered the day Alois had given it to her... The first time they'd slept together. The day she'd given up whatever innocence she'd had left to reach for a lie she'd so wanted to believe. She remembered him showing her how to hold it so she wouldn't hurt herself, how to use it against someone. The knife made a soft click as the blade sprang free and she ran her thumb down the razor edge. She'd taken care of it... Found comfort in knowing she had it. It felt good in her pocket, in her hand. It didn't even matter that Alois had been the one to give it to her... The horrible things that came after didn't seem to cling to it and she only felt the strange warmth she'd felt that day.
Pressing her thumb harder to the edge, Orah felt the skin split and bright red welled up around the shining metal.
She already knew how it felt to die. It would not be so hard to do again. Ida was safe... She could be happy to rest here. Dying now, before all the terrible things she remembered would save her from them. She wouldn't have to watch anyone die, wouldn't have to feel that pain again. She could finally rest... And no one would suffer from her weakness.
Blood ran down her palm and Orah stared at it for a long time, just feeling the pain of the cut and mulling over this strange concept. To step forward and take control... To find peace and release... It was tempting. Probably too tempting.
Lifting the knife close to her stomach, Orah used the edge of her sweater to clean the blood from the knife and gently tuck it closed.
That would be running away, wouldn't it? It would be giving up, letting the bad things win out over her. The ultimate failure in her duty. Memories of good times, better times, ran through her mind like flecks of dust in the moonlight. The bad things would never happen... But the good ones wouldn't either, would they? She'd never see the people she loved again.
Orah wasn't sure she could keep going like this, but... Wasn't that why she was here? To figure it all out? Or something...
Dropping the knife into her pocket, she leaned back against the tree that was her tower and stared up at the impossible blue of Ida's sky. There was time. She didn't have to decide now... Though she had a feeling she had passed whatever point that would have allowed her do what she had contemplated.
Her eyes closed as she sighed softly, still tired and full of pain. There was time. She had come here to take it, after all. She just... Needed to rest.
Rest she could do. Peace was still far off.
Word Count: 1091
