rose lilah nash.

HIGH QUALITY MEMES ——> accepting. ( OLIVE NASH. )

Sitting on the edge of her incommodious cot, Rose took in the surroundings as she did every morning after waking. Gray walls that matched the rest of the drab decor that she was given, covered every inch of her room. Color was non-existent and unallowed in Dema thanks to a law passed upon the sects by the Bishops. She turned her head slowly to look out of the window pane that was streaked with rain to further indicate inevitable bleakness from beyond its protection. A heavy sigh emitting itself, she forced her tired body up and padded her bare feet across the cold cement floor, past the neon light source placed in the middle of her room that her eyes had temporarily given a look over -- the only thing relatively close to livening up space.

Now standing in front of her dresser, she looked down to the top drawer for a few moments before lifting her pale hand to open it, revealing its contents -- two flowers that were yellow in color. There was no lying… She had tried to escape Dema before and there had even been a time where she thought that she would succeed. But, Nills kept pulling her back with the invisible leash that he had attached to her neck. He had a power over her that she couldn’t explain and he had known all of her weaknesses since day one; reading her as if she had been an open book. It was always a game of cat and mouse with him, but in the beginning, she had wanted to obey him -- please him. The very thought alone disgusted her after all of the abuse that he put her through, all of the mind games to make her feel like she amounted to nothing. That she was a failure that had been defeated and there was nothing that she could do to show him to realize she was broken. Emotions being portrayed were prohibited, as well. She wanted, no, needed to denounce vialism.

Luckily, before she had been caught to come back to Dema after her escape, she had managed to find the beautiful flowers that she hid away for safekeeping. Somehow, Nills hadn’t seen it after gathering it in her hands as she made the walk of shame back to her life behind the prison walls of her own mind. She was thankful. Staring at the delicate petals, her fingers barely touching along them in fear of it breaking, she bit her lip and placed it back in its home. She turned in her spot and moved back to the bed to slip on her shoes, preparing for her day (not having to do much of anything to finish).

As she was walking out of her “cell”, she kept her main focal point down the hall in case she was stopped by another of the other residents in her area. She couldn’t be distracted today. There wasn’t time. Exiting the cold building, she entered into the damp exterior; instantly wishing that she had some sort of jacket in her possession. It had been ruined in her last attempt to escape and needed to be fixed, so she decided it best to just leave it behind. “It’ll work this time…” She mumbled to herself beneath her breath as she hid out of sight in order to make way to the tunnels that led out of Dema. Many people had tried using this route and discouraged anyone else to try as they would get lost and captured by the only ones who knew the way. The Bishops. At least, that’s what they thought. As she arrived, she was surrounded by darkness and made her way ahead, using her hands to feel for a few items she had left behind after having scouted a few weeks prior. She grabbed her map, which would be essential for this journey and then her primed torch. She would make it this time, now that she had a safer passage.

‘Rose, where do you think you’re going?’

His voice echoed in her mind like a reminder of a bad dream. Shaking her head to clear her mind, she lit her torch and tried to ignore the voice that continuously haunted her. Then, she heard it… Horse hooves. Quickly looking down to the map she held in her shaky hands, her eyes scanned over every route that she had to go down in order to properly escape. She made sure that she had everything memorized, backing up first, then turning on her heel to bolt down the tunnel at full speed. If she didn’t move quick, the all too familiar tug on her leash would take over and she would be punished once more. Her mind and body couldn’t take that again.

She knew that they were right behind her and heard the noise that she was making as her feet slammed into the ground beneath her, breathing heavily. Her heart was racing in her chest both out of fear and exhaustion, but she needed to push on and not stop until she was safe. If that were even a possibility. Just when she thought that the tunnel would never end, she saw a light ahead and let out a sigh of relief, keeping her running pace. As the outside neared, she almost had to stop to admire the beauty that was unveiled to her once again, having only made it this far before. She had to make it farther… She had to push herself, no matter how tired she was. Running into the wilderness, into the trees, down one of many dirt paths, she had no clue where she was going. She just knew that if she didn’t, she would suffer a fate much worse.

After a bit more time passing, Rose could no longer hear the Bishops behind her. She couldn’t even hear Nills anymore and that alone made her feel so free. She decided in that moment that it would be okay for her to take a breath and relax, her eyes also catching sight of a small creek ahead. She fell to her knees before it and cupped her hands, capturing the water inside and bringing it to her lips to drink; the cool and refreshing water gliding down her parched throat. She wiped her hands on her pants and let them sit there for a moment, trying to calm her breathing as it was still ragged.

The more she sat there, the more she had time to think about things she had heard during her time in Dema -- whispers of a group within Trench that saved lost souls like her. The Banditos. Were they real? Or had they just been a mythical tale for those who needed some hope to get through the awful lives they had to suffer through? She needed them to be real. She needed them. She needed cover. Protection.