Her first encounter with EmCee’s group left T265 with a lot to think about, especially EmCee’s idea of Joy being rebellious. Which was ridiculous. How could something so weak stand in the face of those who throw prisoners from the railing of The Spire?
It no longer amazed T265 that the stench of musk lingered in the barracks, even on a shower night. What else could be expected when over a thousand people are crammed into one floor of a building and stacked upon each other like that?
She did the math one night when sleep eluded her, as it did that night where her bunkmate, a heavy-set I with a bushy goatee, snored louder than normal.
Each barracks had seven floors with six rows of beds stacked six times on top of each other. With two people per bed, fifteen beds per row, and every space full, there were one thousand eighty people on any given night per floor.
It always came at night, the rumination. During the day, there was plenty to focus on, but the night left her to her own devices. In her old life, she’d imagine fantastic scenarios to coax herself into dreaming. In the four years since her last breakdown, she had not dared to open the Pandora’s box of her creative nature.
The horrors she locked away in there far outweighed any benefit of whatever she buried with them. The thoughts of Califax Ranch, however, remained a thorn she preferred to escape, so that night, she cracked open the lid.
Her mind created a canvas on the bunk above her filled with sorely welcomed, bittersweet memories. The echo of Christmas carols filled her head while the tartness of Cassie’s cranberry cookies teased her taste buds with a slight sting. Their second-to-last Christmas morning, when they curled together on the couch after opening presents.
Cassie twirled her fingers in Amelia’s hair while they talked about their future. It was sad how oblivious they were to the beginning of the end.
It was easier to watch the memory in the third person. Experiencing it any closer was unbearable; she wasn’t that woman anymore and knew the dangers of getting too close.
Amelia died years ago to help T265 survive.
“Hey, you,” Cassie whispered. When she had Amelia’s attention, she leaned over and kissed her. “Did you have a good Christmas?” While the peaks of Cassie’s voice blurred, T265 remembered enough for it to be crisp.
They were back in their bedroom across the bed from each other as Cassie took off her shirt. The hazy recollection of her naked body filled T265’s focus.
“I miss you,” T265 said, breaking the script.
Cassie pressed her lips together and nodded. Her sigh became a whimper.
“Not yet my love.” She crawled across the king bed they bought to have enough room to snuggle the babies when they came. “Stay with me a little longer,” she whispered with glossy eyes. At the edge of the bed she rose to her knees.
T265 interlaced their fingers. ‘Are you happy where you are?” The words fought against the lump in her throat for freedom.
“Never, but I’m safe.” Cassie’s fingers wrapped around the skin of T265’s bald head and pulled her into a passionate kiss that burned the soul.
“Make love to me,” she begged.
T265 realized Cassie held on to her, not Amelia, and turned away. “I can’t.”
“Please,” Cassie begged again.
T265 closed her eyes. The fantasy faded with Cassie’s final plea echoing in the distance.
“Come back to me.”
T265 wiped her eyes and cursed herself for inviting the sob that desperately wanted to taste freedom. The cadence of her bunkmate’s snores shifted to resemble an oversized cicada, but it had a consistent rhythm where the possibility of sleep was tenable.
On her side, her arm slid beneath her head while the sight of Cassie lingered in her mind. She knew what waited down that road paved with good intentions. The dance down that spiral was well traveled during her first year, and it almost consumed her. She didn’t want anyone to suffer because she chose to leave. So everything was locked away.
The stillness of the night crept upon her as breathing sank into that serene space between realities. That world before sleep remained the only moments of peace she found each day. With her eyelids heavy, she was back on her couch professing to Cassie that she wasn’t falling asleep. The playful arguments were what she missed the most.
Muse and Mischief 
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