Y i k e s.
★☽★☾★☽★☾★☽★☾★☽★☾★
Acacia didn’t want to “bond” with her fellow mutants. She wanted to be alone. It was times like these that she truly regretted her involvement with the MCC. While she certainly cherished some of the memories she had made, she was willing to give anything and everything to return to the life she had known.
But she found room 251 anyway and entered, settling by the door and crossing her arms as the other young women meandered inside.
It was difficult for her to focus in general, for some reason, and the meaningless chatter that occurred in the room barely registered in her mind. Her vision felt hazy and her head throbbed. When someone, likely Karin, touched Acacia’s shoulder and asked if she was feeling alright, Acacia brushed the hand away, rose, and snapped, “Bien,” before leaving the room.
There were more important things than gossip and conversation. Acacia longed for her garden in France, the flower shop where she was beloved by customers and employees alike. Her memories seemed distorted, but she didn’t mind the romanticism. With what she had endured, even fantasy was welcome, even delusion.
While wandering the halls of the bunker, Acacia found most communal rooms to be empty. The cafeteria, the training rooms. No one was to be found. Though this was peaceful enough, Acacia longed for something more. Her lungs ached. Her skin burned.
She found the door which led to the outside and, after making sure no one was around, fled above ground.
The night air was cool, and Acacia shivered, wishing she’d donned something more than a tank top before fleeing. But she hadn’t been thinking. Her body moved on instinct. As she welcomed the breeze, her breathing grew more ragged.
When her knees buckled, she didn’t realize something was wrong until her face hit the dirt. With shaking arms, she pushed herself up as far as she could, panting. Fingers trembling, she touched her face, feeling something sticky on her lips. She coughed, and the soil beneath her grew dark and damp.
Without warning, Acacia found herself laughing. “Alors, c'est ça,” she whispered. “This is it.” She curled her fingers against the dirt and tottered. Her back hit the ground, and she stared up at the sky. Clouds obscured the moon and stars.
As her vision grayed, Acacia rested her hands over her stomach and closed her eyes. A poisonous creature falls prey to its own poison. Ironique, ne c’est-pas? Such is my fate. I have known this day would come.
Her skin burned, but more than that, her very veins seemed burning with life. She gritted her teeth and opened her eyes, yearning for the stars to emerge, to give her some final comfort.
When she ceased breathing, the clouds remained. The grass by Acacia’s body swayed in the breeze, and the night carried on.
