Lost Within

When the school found out, they removed his cold body, hanging almost like a protective charm wielding off evil spirits, except it didn't wield off anything. The harsh winter blizzards tossed his body around, swinging it like a pendulum. The never ending snow battered his rag doll of a body. I could do nothing but grip his limp hands tightly in mine, hoping some of the heat would transfer over.

His body was transferred to the hospital where they dispose of it. I sat there, dazed, holding his suicide note, a mountain of fresh snow surrounding me, in a landscape of white, in my last moments with Darren. We never had a funeral for Darren, and very few people acknowledged the fact that he was gone. The school never disclosed the real reason for his death. Officially it was announced that he slipped on ice, and fell to his death.

As usual I attended all of my classes, although there was very little purpose of doing so, because our futures were already decided for us. My words felt lost in my mouth, whenever I was forced to speak, which was only to the lunch lady serving us food. For the remainder of the time, I spent in my room, isolated from the world, headphones with recordings of sombre piano sonatas playing. The empty ambience of the room only served to worsen my mood. Soon enough I discovered that I was unable to eat. The sight of food revolted me, everytime I forced food down my throat, I would instantly regurgitate it back up. Then on Sunday, when school was cancelled, I grabbed a small backpack, stuffed it full of necessities and left.

As Seniors we were allowed to leave the campus. I walked outside the tall black gates of Cransfield. The view from outside made Cransfield a prison. I wandered to the train station in District 4 and got on the first train that arrived. With no particular destination in mind, and nowhere to return to, I simply stayed on the train, staring aimlessly outside the window at the endlessly scenery. The irrigated fields of Districts 1 and 5, for the first time seemed meaningless, grey and lifeless within the excess layer of snow. They weren't shined upon in their usual golden blaze. Even the beautiful, perfect shores of District 2 and 3 appeared unbalanced in an odd oversaturation of ashes.

I can't remember exactly how I spent the night, but I remember the blinding light, the bustling of feet in the morning and the painfully strong bite of the beagle, so I assume that I got off the train at District 0, and sprawled myself on the floor, without anything to cover myself with, and slept. I was wearing a quilted puffer jacket, so I don't remember freezing to death. I woke up to the chilly wind and the bite of a beagle, along with its owner, a public security officer, yelling at me to get out. I didn't want to bother anyone so I got up and left. I remember climbing onto the train again, to begin another cycle of aimlessly circling the dome. The tiny gap between the train and the platform, was but a tiny crack, compared to the deep abyss of my heart.

With no tears left to cry, and such intense anger to direct at everyone, my life was in shambles. I sat on the edge of the train, eyes drifting outside the window. Sometimes I would randomly fall asleep and dream of much simpler times, with the nameless girl, Darren and Hannah, but every time I awoke from the dream, I would be left with an overwhelming feeling of bitterness and betrayal. As I reached my hands into my backpack for water, I realised how deathly thin I had become from not eating for four days.

The anger that built up inside me was like a dam. I had no one to direct it to, but all the same it was ready to burst out at any second. Who was to blame for Darren? No one could predict how he chose to end his life. Not even the one closest to him, me. Was it the society we lived in? Was it too cruel on a gentle boy like Darren? Could he not bear the pain from the disappearance of the nameless girl and Hannah? Did he still vaguely remember them, just like I did? And the nameless girl? What caused her disappearance and my memories of her to disappear?

Time passed very quickly on the train, to me, every sound, movement was enhanced. All of them felt so clear to me, although not even once did I try to look around. The world was a blur of movement and sound. What was going on? How much time had passed? Why was I doing this? I didn't understand. It was night time when I finally got off the train in an unfamiliar district. Judging from the sharp scent of salt in the air and the harsh wind, tossing my unruly hair about, I figured that it was one of the ocean districts.

I walked on the shore, completely covered with ashen snow, my boots making soft crunching sounds. I found a large rock, brushed some snow aside and sat down on it. The night sky was clear, revealing the many constellations of stars that illuminated it. Like little flames they shone on for an eternity. Examining them closer, I was suddenly brought back to my childhood when Beth was telling us about the stars in the sky.

There was a lovely old lady called Ms Francis, I think that was her name, but I called her Granny Fran. She visited us at the House a lot, because she was a previous manager of the place, and her husband had died many years ago, so she was often lonely. I can briefly recall her kind wrinkly face when she mischievously smiled at us everytime we caused trouble for our caretakers. Every time they scolded us she would always come to our defence saying that, kids are just kids, let them do what they want to. She would often sit down outside on the porch, facing the field of lavenders, with her cat, Blacky rested on her lap, telling stories to us, excited children.

One day she suddenly stopped showing up at the House. When I asked the other carers why she stopped turning up, they told me that she had passed away. At that time I did not understand the meaning of 'passing away', but for some reason I knew that it was something very sad. Afterwards I ended up crying until my throat was all swollen. Nothing any of them said could console me. That night Beth pulled me out onto the very same porch that I had listened to so many of Granny Fran's stories on, and we sat down. For a while none of us spoke. She then pointed upwards at the sky, the far off sky. It was a starry night above.

"Granny Fran's up there now?" She softly wrapped her arms around me.

"Up there, among the stars?" I sniffled a little, about to burst out in tears once more.

"Yes. She's become a star. She passed on to a much better place. And she will continue to watch over us, people still in this world, and protect us from above. In a way she is a guardian angel. I'm sure that she loves you very much, and that she will watch your growth." She let out a puff of silver-white warm breath, into the cool night.

"That can't be. Our stars are artificial lights cast by the weathering team, so she can't have become one." My sniffling got worse as tears threatened to spill."

"Our stars might be illusions cast by the weathering team, but the emotion behind them is every bit as real as us. They might be illusions, but yet they are indisputably real, because as long as we humans exist, we can give meaning to it. Just like how you children, gave meaning to the final years of Granny Fran's life, we can give meaning to those countless stars above. As long as we continue to believe, I'm sure sure that our prayers will be heard. I'm sure that Granny Fran is watching over all of us up above." She smiled ever so slightly, her eyes smiled too, revealing a few small imperfections on her face.

I felt relieved when she said this. That's right Granny Fran was still alive somewhere in the stars, where she was breathing, watching over us, guiding us. "Does everyone who passes away become a star?" I asked wiping away all my tears.

"Ah, of course." Beth replied, her dreaming expression taking over her face. "I'm sure that there are enough far off stars for everyone who has moved on. There's no shortage of stars in the sky and there's no shortage of human imagination, so I'm sure that as long as someone remembers them, carries on their legacy, there will be a star for them. I suppose that goes for you and me too..." Her long fingers grasped my tiny hands tightly, as if the summer winds of that evening would blow me away.

The memory brings a bittersweet smile onto face even in the darkest of times. I wondered if among the thousands of stars that were reflected onto the dome tonight, one of them, just one of the could be Darren, watching over me, guiding me from above. In the far off sky, in the distant depth of night, I could spot a star that emitted a light far brighter than any other. That was Darren. I was so sure of it, he was watching me from above now, caressing me in his warm light.

I finally found the courage to read his last note addressed to me, his suicide note. I stood up and walked closer to the crashing sounds of waves. I clutched the note for the longest time, but found that my fingers went numb every time I tried to open it. My eyes were dry when I read the letter. It was surprising short, and yet brought me to my knees.

Dear Layla,

I leave to you the rest of my belongings which I have not thrown away. If you don't want anything, feel free to throw that away. My CD player, pens and unused notebooks could prove useful to you in the future. Anyways I would like to apologise in advance for my selfishness.

I'm sorry.

Yours truly, Darren.

He left me with no explanation, no answers and more grief. I angrily closed the note, and burned it with a match, which I got from my backpack. He never explained his actions, and any reason behind them. It didn't serve to give me any closure or to alleviate my pain, but it only made my rage explode within me. My mind at the time was consumed by only one thought. Why did everyone have to leave me alone?

The realisation only occurred to my during the course of writing this book. I was flipping through a book of psychology for reference when I realised that I was the one who never truly understood him, or tried to. There was always an insurmountable barrier between us. Darren was far too kind an individual, he was far too kind to reject the system, unlike Kim, but also too soft to coexist in such a cruel system. Just like the author Anna Mariana, people as gentle as him were forced to take their lives. The realisation always brings me to tears because if I had found out earlier, maybe, just maybe, I could've averted his death or at least prolonged his life...

I spend the rest of the night drifting along the beach, watching the waves crash into the silver snow. The stinging salt would enter my nostrils and lungs alongside the wintry winds, and suck my body dry of any moisture. That night I decided that what I was doing was self destructive behavior. I didn't want to go back to Cransfield just yet, however I knew that doing this for an eternity wouldn't benefit anyone. I didn't want to continue on living this way. My mind was anguished, in a tug of war between the past and present. Deep inside I knew that moving on was the only choice I had.

Right before dawn, I hopped onto the first bullet train of the morning. My surroundings were eerily silent, only the occasional hoots of snowy owls could be heard. I stared out the window, this time my mind fixated on a destination, my eyes focused on a goal. I got off at Station 6, and trekked along the same abandoned trail, near factories with black smoke touching the yale sky above. District 6 was the only official exit out of the dome. The guards seemed to be asleep on the job, and seizing this opportunity, I snuck outside.

I was greeted by a blood red sunrise outside. The sight of the dark crimson sun burning brightly unsettled me. The red was too reminiscent of a certain someone for my comfort.