Bright. | Wren

Instructions

"Please I'm begging you... kill me, I don't care, just please spare my daughter..."  ... Stars certainly are bright.  Finch could hardly even focus on what was happening. She just kept staring at them. . . . They started calling her Wren after they took her to the little cell.  She wasn't sure why. Mom had always called her Finch. But she didn't say anything. She didn't really mind.  . . . The food they fed her didn't really taste like much. It just tasted like pavement.  They told her she'd be there until she was offered up. There wasn't much she was really exposed to in that little cell.  So there was never really much to think about. It was so quiet.  . . . After a few months, she was finally offered up. A staff member of the Halo Park took her in. They said their name was Lamp.  Wren thought their name was pretty.  Lamp didn't look at her much.  The only time she had looked at her while walking her was when she was greeting her for the first time.  . . . Lamp never really let her do activities like the other kids.  Lamp insisted on training her. It was a constant loop of training, feeding time, more training, and then finally rest.  The training hurt a lot.  It'd leave her sick sometimes. But Wren didn't really mind.  . . . She could never really focus much.  Her mind always seemed to wander off somewhere where she couldn't get a firm grasp on it. Everything always felt really hazy. They thought they could fix it.  . . . Wren was in the infirmary again. The migraine they induced for her focus training made her get sick again. Lamp was ranting to the nurse about something. Something about her. Wren couldn't make out the words though.  Lamp was so bright. She just stared at them. The nurse told Wren she'd get to play in the main area soon.  Wren wasn't sure what they were talking about. The nurse talked to her gently though. . . .  It was the first time Wren got to sit next to another kid.  They told her that the other kid's name was Striker. Or something like that.  They told her they were going to train together. Wren got curious about the other girl really quickly. She never really got to talk to the other kids much. She never really thought about talking to them much. But for some reason she really wanted to talk to Striker.  . . .  So that's what they meant by the main area.  Wren could do nothing but stand and stare when they let her out. It was so colorful.  The cells and the training rooms tended to be purely white or purely black.  . . . The Striker girl was sitting beneath a tree. Wren felt that feeling again. It felt odd to approach her.  Wren had heard the other kids introduce themselves to each other so she gave it a shot. . . . Striker didn't ask her a lot of questions after Wren's silence on the first one. She just talked to her about other things.  Wren appreciated that.  Wren... liked being around Striker? She wasn't exactly sure what liking something was like, but this seemed like it.  . . . Wren often lost track of herself.  Just like time.  Sometimes hours would feel like minutes. Sometimes weeks would just feel like a day or two.  And sometimes Wren couldn't really make out what she felt.  It was odd. She didn't know a lot about herself. The other kids seemed to know about themselves. But Wren wasn't sure. When she told Lamp, Lamp didn't look at her.  Lamp didn't say anything.  She quietly escorted Wren to the training room. The room that made her head hurt when she came out.  . . . It hadn't taken long for her to forget what Mom used to call her. Or Mom's face. Or Mom's voice. The only thing she could remember about Mom was how bright the stars were and the sound of Mom's crying and her shaky voice.