Eᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ: Jᴏɪɴ Oʀ Dɪᴇ (ғʟᴀsʜʙᴀᴄᴋs ғʀᴏᴍ S3 ᴇᴘ 13)
According to the novels and vids, humanity had dreamed of going to space for generations. The reality of life in a space station has, however, not met the expectation. When Earth declared nuclear war on itself, our ancestors watched from their separate ships in horror as the planet beneath them burned. In order to survive the 100 years that it would take for the planet to become habitable again, they joined together to create a single station and due to the makeshift nature of its creation, it needed constant work to remain functioning.
To combat the limited amount of supplies and oxygen, laws were put into place which created an environment that few are able to thrive in. A council was elected to lead the population, and it was decided that crimes of any kind would be punishable by death. This left an entire generation of children parent-less from desperate acts such as stealing sorely needed medication. The only mercy was imprisonment pending trial if the perpetrator is under eighteen years of age, resulting in an entire wing of young people in a death row environment, praying for a pardon once they reached the age for review, instead of a death sentence.
Two years had passed since my imprisonment and I was rapidly approaching my eighteenth birthday. There was something freeing about knowing that my end was near and I'd become frank when discussing the my sentence, many of the other inmates avoided me due to the severity of my offence. They considered me more dangerous than most, but their judgement had never bothered me.
My time was eased by a single friend, who in my isolating time behind locked doors had become my only remaining family. Unfortunately, due to the circumstances of her upbringing, she hadn't been well socialised and as a result, the others shunned her too, treating her like an outcast. We clung together for survival and I had made it my personal mission to protect her.
This commitment required me to challenge her in many ways, guiding her to toughen her exterior and encouraging her to develop instincts that would serve her well in the future. Unlike myself, I was confident that at the end of her sentence, she would be released into the general population and for my own peace of mind, I needed to know that she was capable of taking care of herself once I was no longer around.
The factor that bothered me the most was that she would remain in custody for several months after my death and I was fearful that she might fall prey to the other delinquents in my absence. I knew that throughout her youth, she'd relied on her older brother Bellamy to protect her and was able to utilise her desire for independence to convince her to absorb my teachings.
During our lunch break, we sat in the prison cafeteria across the table from each other and had devolved into cackling at a series of terrible jokes.
"Okay, so. You have to fuck an inmate to save your life. Who do you choose?" Octavia observed me over the table with a face full of mischief, something I had grown accustomed to in her company.
There was a sparkle in her light hazel eyes from the earlier laughter and I tried to commit the way that she looked in this moment to memory. Her long, walnut brown hair was like smooth honey that dripped over her shoulders, framing her pretty face and she batted her long, thick lashes coyly at me as she awaited an answer. Though I would never admit it, I envied the natural beauty that kept her glamorous even in prison. It certainly helped that her skin glowed a warm, tawny beige color that implied she had caught the sun despite living in space.
"Oh, that's terrible!" I hissed, as I subtly scanned the crowded cafeteria with it's overflowing tables and not for the first time, felt relieved that we were isolated from the others on our own table. "I choose death." I answered with a deadpan tone and she rolled her eyes at my reaction.
In my mind, I knew that choosing wouldn't be the issue in this hypothetical situation, but rather finding someone who was willing to do the deed with me. I wouldn't describe myself as unattractive, but compared to Octavia, I was a scrawny weirdo with dark circles and a menacing expression. My appearance hardly placed me as the first choice for anyone, even within the limited numbers of prisoners. Octavia slapped my arm in annoyance and the contact snapped me from my thoughts.
"Cop out!" She gasped, seeming utterly offended with my simple answer. She scrutinized the surrounding inmates thoughtfully before speaking again and I had the dreadful feeling that she was mentally seeking a match for me.
"You know, I really would've thought Murphy would catch your eye." She turned back to face me with a suggestive wink and I had to remind myself that she hadn't intended to be offensive.
I glanced past her to the miscreant in question, only to discover that he was predictably engrossed in his usual exaggerated activity of arrogant humor to amuse his table of inmates. His medium length brunette hair sat at his cheekbones, only further emphasising his sharp features. He was a troublemaker with a stinking attitude that made him popular amongst the more devious of the prisoners and everything about his demeanor got under my skin.
Unfortunately, he noticed me studying him, causing his face to fall into an egotistical smile and I felt my stomach flip at the sight. In all honesty, most of the time even catching sight of him made me irritated and I could consider my day a success if I managed to avoid any of our snarky interactions.
"Why?" I groaned, equally bemused and insulted by her comment. I couldn't imagine how she had paired us in her mind, especially as I'd never given an indication to my preferences. Though I would sooner die than admit it, Murphy and I had quite a lot in common. We were both short tempered and defensive, and our personal styles were well matched, but she knew as well as I that I couldn't stand him.
"I don't know." She confessed, chewing her lip as she considered her reasoning. "I guess because he's tough and resourceful. Even looks a little alternative?" She spoke with an amused tone as she attempted to justify her logic and I could tell from her expression that she knew she had made a mistake in mentioning him. For a moment, I suspected that she might have misinterpreted my disdain for him as sexual tension and almost gagged at the very idea.
"And that's all of my requirements is it?" I replied teasingly as she squirmed in her seat in embarrassment and I chuckled under my breath.
Most of all, I had calculated that my hair was the feature that lumped me into the alternative category alongside Murphy. Though I was a natural redhead, I'd taken to dying it a more extreme, blood red colour and it had grown to reach my waist in lockup. After a particularly rebellious moment in my preteen years, I shaved the left side right up to the parting and I'd kept the unusual style ever since. Despite my best efforts to tame the rest of my locks, they always appeared wind swept, which I suspected stemmed from the slight curl that was natural for me and this volume only added to the punk reputation.
My complexion was a pale, fawn shade that I felt closer resembled a corpse beside Octavia's natural glow and the obnoxious shade of my hair clashed wonderfully with my cool complexion. Octavia often complimented me on the way that it drew focus to my eyes, which she described as a beautiful lagoon blue. Often, I wished I could see myself in the flattering light that she seemed to, but self confidence had been a lifelong battle of mine that I continued to fight.
I rolled my eyes as Murphy's table cheered in response to some dramatics of his and his popularity only further confirmed my negative impression of him. Octavia seemed exasperated by disinterest, pouting like a child whose parents had refused to engage in their games.
"Well. There must be someone?" She stated as she surveyed me with a hint of disbelief and I didn't hesitate at all before correcting her.
"No. No one. There never has been. If you didn't notice, there's not exactly the greatest selection of men on the Ark." I explained, as I strained not to feel insecure about this confession.
I directed my attention to my hands, which I wrung together awkwardly on the table to avoid the surprised expression that I suspected she would be wearing. It was uncomfortable for me to discuss my lack of attraction. I didn't know why I hadn't ever felt it, or what it was that I was looking for. For many years now, I'd fallen into the habit of avoiding it, instead focusing my efforts on survival as my father had always encouraged. Honestly, I expected that it was my realistic, driven attitude that negated any suggestion of romance.
"Have you ever thought ..." She began with a teasing smirk that I knew could only mean some sort of mockery was coming and raised my brows at her in anticipation. "That you might be just a little bit gay? I mean, I know that you love me to death. Maybe that's a hint?" She displayed bashful behavior as she spoke and I was impressed at the standard of her acting, as I knew her to be far from shy. I snorted in laughter at this suggestion and hit her playfully.
"Well, there's never been anyone female either! So I don't think it's that." I laughed heartily and felt myself relax at her easy-going response to my embarrassing revelation.
In my mind, I had always imagined that if I told anyone how I felt, they would either laugh, or think that there was something wrong with me. At times, I certainly felt there was. Instead, Octavia responded to this new discovery about me with understanding, as she always did and it gave me a sense of peace to find that my expectations had been incorrect.
"Anyway, how about you? It's your question, so you must have an answer in mind?" I enquired without considering the door that I had just opened and even as the words left my mouth, I dreaded the answer.
"Oh, that's hard. There's so much choice!" She crooned as she glanced around with wide, interested eyes and I felt my stomach drop. Octavia had always been painfully interested in the male population and I lived in fear of the day that she became involved with some brainless pretty boy who I would have to begrudgingly interact with to keep her happy.
"God! You're actually serious." I groaned in disappointment, having hoped that she would indicate she was joking, but she continued to examine her options with a conflicted expression. For a moment, I allowed my face to fall into my hands in exasperation, feeling as if I'd completely lost hope in ever guiding her to a better path, but I quickly returned my gaze to her for an answer.
"I mean, Atom's not bad." She winked back over her shoulder at me and I rolled my eyes. Atom was a prime example of the beefcake with a hint of self obsession that Octavia was drawn to, with his perfectly styled hair and confident manner of holding himself. "But how would I ever choose just one!" She spoke with such authenticity that it disturbed me and I felt a new level of terror forming in my stomach at her statement.
"You see, this is exactly why I worry about you." I declared with stress in my voice, as I pictured her cycling through a selection of unsuitable partners in my mind and a shudder ran down my spine. "Apart from the fact that there are multiple people in this dump that you'd consider, the fact that Atom is your first suggestion is deeply concerning." I clarified with a tangible sense of disapproval and Octavia simply shrugged carelessly at my criticism, clearly unaffected by it after almost a year of enduring it.
She continued assessing her options for the situation eagerly, wearing the kind of expression that you would expect to see at an all you can eat buffet. The fear struck me that her suggestion of hooking up with an inmate wasn't as hypothetical as she first implied and I tried my chances at a more sensitive suggestion for her.
"What about Jasper?" I attempted to sound casual as I spoke, but wasn't sure that I had successfully managed to disguise my interest in this pairing. Octavia turned in her seat to face me and raised a single brow in suspicion.
"What about Jasper?" She remarked with an immediate lilt of scepticism as she scrutinized me and my mind rushed with panic, as I considered how I could make use of the opportunity to discuss him without seeming as if I had an ulterior motive.
"He's cute in that dorky, skinny kind of way." I smiled as I spoke and she regarded me as if she were awaiting some kind of punchline. "He also seems nice. The kind of guy that would be good to you. Unlike any of these jock types that you're always staring at." I argued, hoping that I didn't sound condescending, but I couldn't keep my annoyance at her taste in men from seeping into my words. She rolled her eyes in a bored manner and I felt like a prudish mother scolding her rebellious daughter.
"It sounds like you like him." She retorted with a sly smile, attempting to turn the tables on the conversation, but I remained determined.
"I do like him. As a person. He seems kind and fun." I confirmed with a shrug and I knew in an instant that she was disappointed that she had failed to fluster me with her insinuation. "Plus, I think he kinda likes you." I teased, careful to keep the suggestion light and she cringed at my words, much to my annoyance. "He's someone that I could trust to look after you once I'm-"
"Don't say gone!" I started to justify my suggestion and Octavia sharply cut me off.
"You have got to stop talking about death, Indigo! You don't know that they'll float you. You just have to wait until your review comes and have faith." She spoke with evident frustration and I shivered at the mention of the method they used to execute us.
In an effort to waste as little supplies as possible, the council had taken the decision to launch criminals from the airlock to suffocate in the vacuum of space; we referred to this as floating. Though I couldn't speak for everyone, I was confident that most of us had always harboured a healthy fear of being faced with this experience and I tried not to remind myself that this was the only birthday gift that awaited me.
I took her hands over the table in a silent apology and sighed deeply.
"Octavia, I killed a man." I pointed out, causing her to flinch instinctively. "I murdered a guard and you know that they are the most treasured people on this station other than the council themselves. There is no chance of me receiving a pardon for that." I detailed firmly and I couldn't deny that I was annoyed that she was still fighting me over this.
It was painfully evident to me that this was a fate I would be unable to escape and although I was not fond of considering it, I had come to accept that it would happen. Once I had accepted it, I was able to focus on more important things, like preparing Octavia for an independent life. My biggest obstacle though continued to be her insistence on believing that I would be pardoned, which often prevented me from reaching her.
"He was raping your mother! For years!" She exclaimed in an outburst of fury, before quickly lowering her voice again. "They might show mercy considering the circumstances." She muttered, wearing a guilty expression following raising her voice, but I smiled reassuringly at her.
I wasn't ashamed of the events that led to my arrest, nor did I consider them a secret. Most of the other inmates knew that I was here for murder. In fact, I was sure that it was the cause of their avoidance of me, but I wasn't convinced that most of them knew the whole story. I didn't like to think about the fantasies that had likely been invented about me in place of the truth.
"The circumstances are that I should have told someone and trusted the council to deal with things, instead of taking the law into my own hands. That is all they will see." I spoke resolutely and tried to convey an air of calm in the hope that it would pass on to her. My deeply ingrained distrust and hatred for council niggled at me under the façade, but I was determined to guide her into accepting that my actions were unwise.
"Trust the council!" She spat in an outraged manner, slamming her fist on the table and struggling to maintain her emotions. "The council would never have believed you! They think their guards are incorruptible." She growled, as her anger only seemed to build throughout her words and she pulled away from me in her frustration.
The distance between us felt like miles over the table, but I'd become accustomed to this feeling whenever we discussed the future. I sighed in an attempt to de-escalate the conversation and softened my voice.
"Maybe so, but this way hasn't been any better has it?" I suggested carefully and she glanced up at me with her brows deeply furrowed. "I'm in prison awaiting execution. My mother killed herself. The guard is dead. All I achieved was a whole load more death." I clarified, listing the points in as unbiased a manner as I could manage and she huffed in response.
We sat in silence for several moments whilst she absorbed my analysis and I tapped my leg under the table nervously. I hated the feeling of tension between us, but I couldn't ignore the pressure that my birthday approaching caused for me. I needed her to absorb the lessons that I had only learned too late and I was willing to endure many difficult moments required for her to understand.
"Well. I think it's better that you fought." She crossed her arms in annoyance and I couldn't help some slight amusement as I witnessed her behaving like a stroppy teenager, before being overwhelmed by her indignant attitude.
"Don't be naïve. More lives were unnecessarily lost because of my actions. If I'd taken a moment to think instead of following my emotions, my mom would still be here." I snapped at her for a moment and her eyes widened at the same time as mine. Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I calmed myself down and followed my words with an apologetic smile.
"You need to know when to fight and when to find an alternative. And that's why I'm scared for you, Tavi." I advised in a gentler tone, giving her an honest confession of the quality that I felt had been most responsible for my actions.
"I'm not a child." She growled, as her face turned dark with anger and I knew that I had pushed her too hard. It was unusual for her to respond in anger to anything that I said, but anytime that I became too condescending in my rants, it would usually result in a defensive annoyance that made it impossible to reach her.
"I know. I'm sorry. I don't mean to treat you like one." I sighed apologetically as I acknowledged that this was an ongoing source of frustration for her, after being coddled by her older brother throughout her childhood.
"There's not much time left until my review, Octavia. I need to know that you're going to be okay." I spoke softly, feeling the weight of my care for her pressing into my words and as our eyes met across the table, some of the tension gradually faded away. Silently, we acknowledged our care for one another and I found myself wishing that we could've met under happier circumstances.
"Of course I am." She finally smiled and leaned forward to squeeze my hand over the cool surface. "Because when I get out, you're going to be waiting for me." She added in a determined voice and I sighed in defeat.
I'd lost track of how many months I had wasted attempting to prepare her and I couldn't seem to prompt her to understand the reality of the situation. Only three weeks remained until my birthday, when I would have to face the inevitability of my death and I was terrified that I would walk to the airlock with my mind dominated by worry for Octavia.
Overwhelming noise interrupted our conversation, as we both glanced up to find the guards flooding into the room in force and I felt my spine straighten at the unusual display. There was an intimidating number of them, surrounding us like a pack of hunters.
"Inmates! You will be transported to another facility." The leader of the group announced, prompting a wave of shock amongst the teenagers. "Everyone will be searched. Line up against the wall!"
Many of us moved to press ourselves against the wall willingly, fearful that we would be forcibly pinned otherwise and I remained protectively close to Octavia. We held a panicked conversation with just our eyes as the guards made their way down the line, checking all of the inmates for some mysterious threat. This was a procedure that I had never seen implemented on this scale before, usually only targeted to one or two delinquents when suspected of foul play.
Once they had finished their investigation, they surrounded us with cold attitudes and led us in single file through the empty halls of lockup. We moved in tense silence until we arrived at a small room that vaguely resembled a makeshift classroom and were ordered to enter one at a time. Parting from Octavia even for a few moments felt gut wrenching in such an unexpected situation and the moment that she arrived in the room behind me, I grabbed her hand to lead her to a set of seats so that I could guard her from any harm.
"Welcome to Earth skills."