Panicked
The story thus far: The protagonist Gemma is a 16 year old who was kicked out of her world's Church for failing to make a ceremonial orb glow, despite thinking she would join the elite like the rest of her family. Gemma was declared a "no-soul" because the Church says people with non-glowing orbs literally have no souls. Gemma was also kicked out of her home and sent to live in a group home for no-souls. She recently attacked her sister, who was visiting her home on a charitable outing, for being fake and self-serving. She also just got invited to an anti-Church party by an ex-friend of her sister and had a dimension-hopping misadventure.
This section takes place right after the previous section.
This is also very spoilerrific.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14 (flashback - might not be canon), Part 15 (time-skip), Part 16 (time-skip), Part 17 (time-skip), Part 18 (time-skip), Part 19 (time-skip), Part 20 (time-skip), Part 21 (time-skip), Part 22 (time-skip)
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After a panicked run, I found myself at Dean Marins' house. I banged on the door, forgetting there was a doorbell, forgetting she might not even be home. I could barely breathe. When the door opened, I nearly crashed into the person who opened it. That was Felicia, who looked almost as panicked as I felt.
She asked, “Gemma, what are you doing here?”
I panted, “I need to talk to Diana, now. It's an emergency.”
Felicia shook her head. “Your emergency will have to take a number. We're already having one.”
I screeched, “Does your emergency involve several people being dead and one almost certainly arrested? Because if it doesn't, your emergency needs to take the stupid number.”
She looked confused. What?” she wondered.
I demanded, “So take me to your mom, now!”
Felicia shook her head more violently. “You don't understand. She's gone crazy.”
Now?
I wanted to strangle something. “Tell her to stop it. We have bigger problems that require the dean to be as sane as fucking possible.”
Felicia looked skeptical. “I can take you to her, I suppose. Though good luck getting her to do anything besides stare at the wall and say 'my soul is dead' over and over.”
My stomach sank; I thought I might know exactly what was wrong. I followed Felicia to Diana's bedroom. It was decorated with more of Samantha's paintings, which made me chest tighten because she was dead. An ornately carved wooden bed sat in the middle of room. On the still-made bed lied the dean, who faced us without seeing us. Her brown eyes were vacant and glassy, reminding me entirely too much of the eyes of everyone at the park. She clutched the rich red quilt and muttered “my soul is dead” repeatedly. Even her voice was disturbingly distant.
I snapped at her, “Diana!” Maybe using her name would get through to her.
It didn't.
I grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her, harder than I should have.
Felicia gasped, “What are you doing?”
I said, “Trying to get your mom to wake the fuck up because Brandon killed four people and got his dumb self arrested.”
“What?” Felicia shrieked.
I let go of Diana. She lay absolutely still and for a sick moment I thought I might have killed her. She blinked; sat up; and made something like actual eye contact with the two of us. “What are you doing here? My soul is dead.”
I yelled, “I don't care how dead your soul is, we have bigger problems. Brandon flipped out. He lost control and now Ellie, Samantha, Jeremiah and Wren are dead. As in not breathing, as in they were fucking murdered. And Brandon turned himself in out of guilt, which is the worst possible thing he could have done because the Church is going to get him and I don't know, use him to take over the world or something.”
That was perhaps an exaggeration, but Samantha had been collecting odd rumors. They certainly had some nefarious plan, or at least possessed few enough scruples to think a god was some kind of science experiment. Diana stared at us, not quite understanding my words. She whispered, “What does it matter? My soul is dead.”
I wanted to shake the dean again. “What does it matter, Diana? What does it fucking matter? It fucking matters a lot. Samantha is the one who collected knowledge about the Church. You know how against their finding out about Brandon she was. Would she want him in their clutches? Of fucking course not. She would want you to do something and not besmirch her memory with this pointless madness.”
Voice strangely empty, she said, “He killed her. He deserves it. My soul is dead.”
I said, “Yes, I fucking know that. You can beat him with a bicycle chain or whatever you want when we get him back, but letting the Church have him is not appropriate punishment.”
I fixed her with my hardest stare. Felicia piped up, “Gemma's right, Mom. I've read things on the CompuNet.”
Felicia's eyes watered, but she stared resolutely at Diana. I was glad to have her backing me up.
Diana stuttered, “I-I s-suppose you're right. But w-what can we even do? They have him.”
I answered, “We have to rescue him.” The dean was the one who should have had the plans, dammit.
She shook her head. “That's impossible, and you know it.”
I took a deep breath. “Then we make it possible.”
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written for 500themes prompt #439 - "A Soul Divided"
This section takes place right after the previous section.
This is also very spoilerrific.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14 (flashback - might not be canon), Part 15 (time-skip), Part 16 (time-skip), Part 17 (time-skip), Part 18 (time-skip), Part 19 (time-skip), Part 20 (time-skip), Part 21 (time-skip), Part 22 (time-skip)
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After a panicked run, I found myself at Dean Marins' house. I banged on the door, forgetting there was a doorbell, forgetting she might not even be home. I could barely breathe. When the door opened, I nearly crashed into the person who opened it. That was Felicia, who looked almost as panicked as I felt.
She asked, “Gemma, what are you doing here?”
I panted, “I need to talk to Diana, now. It's an emergency.”
Felicia shook her head. “Your emergency will have to take a number. We're already having one.”
I screeched, “Does your emergency involve several people being dead and one almost certainly arrested? Because if it doesn't, your emergency needs to take the stupid number.”
She looked confused. What?” she wondered.
I demanded, “So take me to your mom, now!”
Felicia shook her head more violently. “You don't understand. She's gone crazy.”
Now?
I wanted to strangle something. “Tell her to stop it. We have bigger problems that require the dean to be as sane as fucking possible.”
Felicia looked skeptical. “I can take you to her, I suppose. Though good luck getting her to do anything besides stare at the wall and say 'my soul is dead' over and over.”
My stomach sank; I thought I might know exactly what was wrong. I followed Felicia to Diana's bedroom. It was decorated with more of Samantha's paintings, which made me chest tighten because she was dead. An ornately carved wooden bed sat in the middle of room. On the still-made bed lied the dean, who faced us without seeing us. Her brown eyes were vacant and glassy, reminding me entirely too much of the eyes of everyone at the park. She clutched the rich red quilt and muttered “my soul is dead” repeatedly. Even her voice was disturbingly distant.
I snapped at her, “Diana!” Maybe using her name would get through to her.
It didn't.
I grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her, harder than I should have.
Felicia gasped, “What are you doing?”
I said, “Trying to get your mom to wake the fuck up because Brandon killed four people and got his dumb self arrested.”
“What?” Felicia shrieked.
I let go of Diana. She lay absolutely still and for a sick moment I thought I might have killed her. She blinked; sat up; and made something like actual eye contact with the two of us. “What are you doing here? My soul is dead.”
I yelled, “I don't care how dead your soul is, we have bigger problems. Brandon flipped out. He lost control and now Ellie, Samantha, Jeremiah and Wren are dead. As in not breathing, as in they were fucking murdered. And Brandon turned himself in out of guilt, which is the worst possible thing he could have done because the Church is going to get him and I don't know, use him to take over the world or something.”
That was perhaps an exaggeration, but Samantha had been collecting odd rumors. They certainly had some nefarious plan, or at least possessed few enough scruples to think a god was some kind of science experiment. Diana stared at us, not quite understanding my words. She whispered, “What does it matter? My soul is dead.”
I wanted to shake the dean again. “What does it matter, Diana? What does it fucking matter? It fucking matters a lot. Samantha is the one who collected knowledge about the Church. You know how against their finding out about Brandon she was. Would she want him in their clutches? Of fucking course not. She would want you to do something and not besmirch her memory with this pointless madness.”
Voice strangely empty, she said, “He killed her. He deserves it. My soul is dead.”
I said, “Yes, I fucking know that. You can beat him with a bicycle chain or whatever you want when we get him back, but letting the Church have him is not appropriate punishment.”
I fixed her with my hardest stare. Felicia piped up, “Gemma's right, Mom. I've read things on the CompuNet.”
Felicia's eyes watered, but she stared resolutely at Diana. I was glad to have her backing me up.
Diana stuttered, “I-I s-suppose you're right. But w-what can we even do? They have him.”
I answered, “We have to rescue him.” The dean was the one who should have had the plans, dammit.
She shook her head. “That's impossible, and you know it.”
I took a deep breath. “Then we make it possible.”
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written for 500themes prompt #439 - "A Soul Divided"