ill face myself to cross out what i've become
erase myself and let go of what i've done
Alana's blue eyes stared out into the gloom, cutting through the musty darkness as sharply as a knife. One finger came up to disinterestedness twirl around a strand of straight blonde hair, and her fingers tapped impatiently against her thighs. God, how boring was this ship? She'd been onboard for two days now and was being driven out of her mind from bordem. You'd expect on a lavish, five star traveling ship that there'd be something to do -- but no. Keep quiet in the halls, stay in your cabin out of hours, don't bother other passengers. This place was too strict; one look at the rules and you'd think it was school. Eyes trailing lazily around the small cabin, Alana wondered if there was possibly anything entertaining going on around in this dull place. She doubted it.
Alana had been sent here by her parents. Too rebellious, they'd said, too "out-there"; Alana agreed whole-heartedly. She'd never been the normal child of her parents's four; always the one to oppose the norm and to go against the mainstream. Alana had made it her lifes goal to be naturally opposed to what the majority had to say, and went out of her way to get into trouble and make her personality stand out. There wasn't any purpose in it, and that was why Alana had made herself such an unpredictable figure. She liked being spontaneous -- it made her feel like a ticking time bomb, something people would avoid at all costs. Knowing she could make things so corrupted was a nice feeling. Alana grinned at the thought.
Either way, she didn't care that she was being sent away. She'd lived in a small town in northern Oregon, cut off from the busy entrepreneurial world that seemed to exist everywhere else. It been awfully annoying, having to spend each day doing the same things on the same routine, over and over again. Alana lived for excitement, and when her parents had told her that she was going to live with some distant relative for the next year, she'd almost burst with elation. It wasn't like anyone would miss her, anyway.
Deciding that sitting around in this cabin wasn't going to suffice, Alana pushed open her door and strode out into the hall. Her parents had booked her the cheapest ride they could get their hands on, and thanks to them Alana was trapped in the stuffy cabins on the bottom floor, three stories below the main deck. The air conditioning worked only part time, and now it was lifeless and unmoving; Alana glanced at it in irritation as she passed, already feeling beads of sweat forming on her neck. She didn't let it dampen her spirits, though -- Alana planned on finding some way to entertain herself and not giving up until she did.
As she ascended a flight of stairs, Alana passed the control room. She stopped, listening curiously as a series of urgent beeps erupted from behind the door, followed by a husky yell of alarm and following yell of anger. She couldn't make out what the two people were saying, but their tone frightened her; confused, angry, scared, and, overall, very, very worrying. What were they yelling about? Certainly the ship wasn't malfunctioning? Biting her lip in sudden nervousness, Alana stared at the door for a moment longer before continuing her way up the stairs. She wasn't so sure she wanted to be jovial and happy, now -- she was more paranoid and nervous.
Alana tried to forget the incident as she made her way onto the deck and crossed over the railing. She wasn't paying any attention to the people around her as she braced her arms against the rail, leaning over slightly to stare down at the choppy waters below. Fascinated, she watched as the waves slammed against the hull of the ship, sending a spray of salty sea water to fly up in the air before crashing back down again. So in awe at the intricate pattern of the waves moving unsteadily back and forth across the surface of the ship, Alana had almost forgotten the unsettling scene she'd witnessed a few minutes before. She was hastily reminded, however, as the ship suddenly lurched forward. Alana stumbled away from the railing, barely able to regain her balance to prevent herself from crashing down on the floor. Looking around in frightened confusing, her eyes wide, Alana wondered what had just happened. A voice came over the intercom, high pitched and calm, but Alana couldn't even make out any of its words as the ship lurched forward for a second time, tables and chairs scattering across its deck. Rushing forward, Alana gripped the rail to steady herself. People were emerging from the halls and rooms reserved for the wealthy, some of them curious, others panicked; Alana just tightened her grip on the railing.
What was happening?
some sort of window to your right where she goes left and you stay right
along the lines of fear and blame, you begin to wonder why you came
Jeremiah winced and cursed under his breath as the box fell from the top shelf, smashing against the ground in a serenade of musical tinkling. He cautiously peeled away one edge of the box, a string of profanities spewing from his mouth as he observed the shatter contents of its insides. Well, there went his mother's parting gift. Kicking the box away, Jeremiah crossed back to his bed and sat down, running his hands through his hair in frustration.
Though he'd been on this ship for two days now, Jeremiah had only just starting unpacking. When he'd first come here he'd been so angry, so frustrated, that he'd just shoved the suitcases and boxes under his bed or on top of shelves, particularly the gift his mother had tried to give him as compensation for all those nasty words they'd exchanged -- like some dumb present would solve their problems. Curiosity had started to get the better of him, though, and Jeremiah had just tried taking down the box his mother had given him; unfortunately, he'd stumbled and ended up dropping the thing on the ground. He stared morosely at its shattered remains wondering what it could have possibly been. Nothing useful to him, certainly, but a tiny twinge of regret prickled at him. Even if it wasn't totally his fault, he felt bad for not caring for the item with utmost caution. His mother had just been trying to make amends, was all.
Jeremiah pushed the thoughts from his mind; he wasn't here to wallow in self-pity. Standing up, he made to go pick up the box and throw it away, but was stopped as a strong shaking sensation gripped the ship. Jeremiah stumbled at the cabin floor tilted slightly, churning beneath his feet as if it had turned to waves. He grabbed onto the edge of the bedpost, wondering what was going on. Were they stopping? Had someone fallen overboard? Was a huge storm bearing down on them? A thousand scenarios crossed Jeremiah's mind, but not once did he consider that the ship might actually be having a control malfunction. He was too naive to realize something might have gone wrong.
The moment the shaking stopped, the buzz of a large crowd filled his ears. Even with his cabin door shut, Jeremiah could tell a large amount of people were making their way down the hall, curiously filing around in hopes that they'd find out what had caused the shaking. Jeremiah had picked up the box and was about to go throw it away when the shaking started again. His eyes narrowed in annoyance as the box clattered out of his hands for a second time and Jeremiah stumbled sideways, colliding with his bed. What kind of games were the captains playing? Swinging his door open, Jeremiah stood in the door frame, waiting for some announcement. He wanted an explanation.
