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Chhatha (Chutt-thaa) [The Chutt is pronounced like "Shut"]
Groan. Rattle. Coughs. Squawks. The sounds that he could hear... The ache for more rest. He didn't want to get up to–
Wait... To what?
He jolted, his bloodshot eyes singing with fear. He made out floorboards, that led to massive poles, could see he was on a wooden ship, kept in the most pristine of conditions. The sound of seagulls chirping their choir affirmed to that, the slow rocking of the grand platform, along with the quiet trickles of waves crashing against its hull.
It was quiet. The first sign of danger.
Between the vast blue above, below, and around him, he searched for someone– something that could help him. He searched, hoping for an answer of sorts.
That was when he found it.
A great mast that held an emblem. A triangle, with a star trapped inside of it, its light desperate for freedom.
He knew he should look for help. He knew that he had to keep moving, but something was so... so... alluring of this... icon.
Without knowing, his hand reached beyond his chest, his face, and stretched towards it. That's when he could hear it.
The presence in his head. He could feel it, a phrase, a moment of recognition. It was whisked away with the wind.
She woke with a start, but she was unmoving. Her eyes closed shut, tears rolling down from her sides. Where am I? She tried to get up, but she couldn't.
Her pulse quickened. Sweat dripping down her face. She tried to scream for help, but she couldn't move a muscle. Her mouth and arms refused to move. She was frightened.
She was paralysed.
Then, she could hear a flurry of footsteps. She started to shake. Someone was here, and she couldn't move.
Tears rolling from her shut eyes. She was begging for forgiveness, for hope, for rescue.
Anyone. She screamed in her head, Please, just anyone.
Twelve heartbeats had passed. Thirty-nine. Fifty-six. Ninety-three. Hundred and twenty-four. Keeping count soothed her, but it was still rapidly pumping.
She could hear wood moving across the floorboards, scraping sounds like nails on a chalkboard.
The sounds moved closer. Closer. Closer.
She was frightened, to say the least. She couldn't move, she felt surrounded. Words were exchanged, but it sounded like nonsense speech to her.
At that moment, she could feel someone pressing against her back, caressing her cheek, and whispered something in her ear.
She couldn't make out the words, but she just knew that those sounds were so... so horrible.
She felt her little finger twitch. It twitched again. She felt her eyelids, her entire hand. Her sense of feeling slowly spread across her whole body. Clenching her fist, bit by bit, to not alarm the people around her, preparing to defend herself.
"Hey! I think she's awak–" By reflex, she opened her eyes and punched the person behind her. The person yelped in pain and shouting curses.
She searched around for an exit, finding a stairwell to her right. She ran towards it, stumbling from her slumber and blood rushing quickly through her body. She raced up high, she could make out shouts for her to return. She raced up and found two girls standing at the top, wary of the shouts from the girl's prison.
The first girl had monolid eyes, with pale skin and a very loud, colourful scarf around her neck. The other was a dark-skinned girl with a dark blue hijab and a pair of ruby red goggles on top of them to match her full lips. Their hands were tightly intertwined, they held themselves between the girl and the entrance. She knew that she couldn't take them on.
She slid down the handrail back into the room. Finding two people, on guard, waiting for her. Reaching the bottom, she grabbed the wooden frame of the door and pivoted herself into the room, hitting them both with their legs. Landed square on her feet, she raced.
She quickly gazed around. She was definitely in some kind of infirmary. Either that or a shared room. There were rows upon rows of beds, and at the very end was a cabinet. A weapon, She thought, I need a weapon. She broke it open, searching.
She heard a voice. "What is she doing?!" She couldn't tell if it was one of the girls or the guy. Pills and syrup bottles clanged onto the ground. She held a small pair of scissors and pointed it at the two girls with her back against the cabinet. They immediately raised both their arms in surrender, but they were eerily calm.
Escape. She could hear in her head.
"Who are you all?!" She yelled. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears. The murderous aura radiating off her was enough to power a vendetta. "Where am I?! Why can't I remember anything?!"
She heard a groan and shifted her weapon to the sounds. A boy with coco skin got up from the floor of a nearby bed, holding his face. "Did you have to punch that hard?"
"You want another?"
"Yeah, like you can come here." He scoffed, "You're shaking like a maraca."
She suddenly had the urge to throw her only defensive weapon at him.
Goggles Girl held herself between the two, her eyes burning into the boy. "Vyf." She said to the boy, "not helping."