Setting
INK
Before and During the Illness.
Eris Becker lay sprawled out on her torn, 1980’s vintage couch, positioned in front of the very old television (2005) she bought at a Good Will for a steal. It was turned off, for she never really watched TV much, expect for America’s Most Wanted which she had made several premieres on. Eris’ right leg hung over the side while her other was tucked behind her head. Her long frame took up the whole length of the couch, feet putting pressure on the armrest opposite of her head. She was in a white t-shirt and some men briefs (more comfortable than a thong, she believed). The temperature in her cabin was scorching, which was very odd for where she lived, high up in the mountains. “Some crazy heat wave,” she murmured to herself, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, collecting tiny beads of sweat. Today she wanted to go hiking through the trails, maybe hunt a couple of deer or rabbit. Yet, when she woke up this particular morning, she felt off. The same way she began to feel before she would get real sick. Having to give up medical trips went along with being a wanted criminal, so she had to lay low. Which meant ride out every illness till they pass. Eris was lucky that she was an overall very healthy woman, but no one is perfect.
I must be getting pretty fucking sick, she cursed, never seeing it that strange that she talked out loud to herself. Getting out of bed was more than a struggle that morning. She couldn’t even change out of her night wear into an outfit for the day. It was obvious she was going to spend her enitre day on the couch in bitter, hungry annoyance.
As the time passed though and it hit mid afternoon, what seemed like a normal flu turned into a full blown body hell. Eris Becker was smart, a genius in fact, even if she was just as much crazy. The quiet crazy type. She didn’t need to have anyone else around or a doctor to tell her this was no ordinary illness. Running through her mind of anything it could possibly be, she could think of nothing, or what on Earth could of caused it. She hadn’t had anything rotten to eat, or been around a city population to catch something. She was trying to hold the pain she felt in as best she could, biting down on her lip. Showing pain, admitting that she is weak, pissed her off the most. This whole experience was a slap in the face, for there was nothing that she could do to make herself feel better. She was convinced that even the euphoric rush she got from watching someone bleed couldn’t make her feel any better. That was saying a whole, whole lot. Her legs soon enough began convulsing in waves, unable to control the shakes. And it was so unbearably hot.
The heat combined with the headaches and seizure shakes was making Eris delusional. Forget talking to herself now, she was talking to an empty room, expecting answers. As she gripped a blanket, she wasn’t sure if she was going to make it. “Tell me this will end tomorrow, TELL ME!” she cried in broken shrieks, gasping for air in between sobs. Her skin was too on fire to absorb any miniscule air whatsoever to her her off. Day one of this disease ended in Eris passing out on her couch, surrounding by torn pillows and broken glass from throwing everything in the cabin around to try and feel better. Nothing worked.
Day two consisted of even more screaming, this time for help. Help to the nothingness around that could hear her. She managed to roll off the side of the couch, crawling as if a toddler all over again to her bedroom, avoiding some, but not all, of the broken shards of glass on the floor that once made up her cup set. Who needed cups anyway when they were experiencing hell inside oneself? It took her almost two hours to muster up the will to stretch her muscles enough to climb her bed. Eris was unbelievably toned, so for her to doubt her capability to pick herself up made her frightful. “Help... please,” she whispered, rolling on top of her sheets, face up, glaring at the ceiling. She passed out that night in more pain than Day one.
Day Three. The final day of her suffering. She woke up, or at least she hoped she did. This, after all, was what death must of felt like. Maybe she slipped in the shower a couple days ago and died, and she was just now realizing it. There was no more screaming going on this morning. Her throat was in lockdown after yelling in agony during her sleep. Her eyelids shivered as the pain ran up and down her spine, through her veins, into the very breath she took. It wasn’t until the sun rose around 8 am that she came to turns she was still alive. It blasted through her cabin window like a beam from heaven itself, if there was such a thing. Almost regretting the fact that she was indeed still alive. She didn’t know how much longer she could handle living life like this. Death seemed more convenient. The delusions only started to get worse as her chest raised up and down heavily. Her ceiling was so bright, so incredibly bright. Her hands that had been tearing at the sheets all night were still bleeding softly.
“God!” she pleaded, as if she really believed in one, and right now she was convinced God did exist. This had to be punishment for her sins, for all her sick, sick sins. Yet what she was experiencing seemed like more pain than any of the 30 people combined that she had killed in her past. Her pain was more, it had to have been. “God, please forgive me! It was the anger inside of me! You saw what my father did to my mother and I, You SAW! He made me this way!!” she begged, glaring at her heavenly ceiling as if she could see God crossing his arms at her. She promised at that moment to the Almighty, her One and Only, that she would forsake her ways. Stop her killings. Make right in the world! As long as he let her live, to stop the pain. And He answered.
It was on the third evening of the third day of being struck up by the disease that it rapidly began subsiding. Thank the Lord, His will had been done! She believed this deeply, to her core. She was saved, and she knew she had been heard. All of her energy returned once again, and strange enough she was feeling almost better than before. Eris Becker got down on her hands and knees and kissed her folded palms, then raised her head to the ceiling she had been talking to that morning. “I will keep my promise,” she smiled devilishly, but meaning in all truth what she was saying. After all, if God saved her from this, and she broke her promise, what would stop Him from striking her down then and there. She finally had the strength to shower after three days, which was much needed because sweat and blood don’t smell too good together. The water in her shower made her feel cleansed. She sang loudly as she scrubbed herself down, singing made up Holy hymns like, “Thank you for saving my ass, la dee dah,” and her favorite so far, “God gave me hell, He gave me life, now the devil shall rest aside.” The latter was an eerie premonition, to say the least, for her inner devil was indeed at rest.
It wasn’t until she finally looked in the mirror that she finally noticed something had changed about her. She was putting on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt when she made eye-contact with her reflection. What she saw made her falter, tripping back a few steps in shock. Her eyes were the color of red. And though it was evening on this Third Day, and the sun had set an hour ago, she could see everything in her dark room clearly. Like fucking night vision, she thought to herself. Did the illness she had cause this change? Was there anything else it caused? This was just weird, and she was in no mood for making her confusion even more complex. “Television!” she yelled, as if hoping that might turn her brain to mush long enough for her nerves to settle down. Eris ran into the cabin’s main room, hopping around the broken glass on the floor and then landing like a plop on her old couch. She turned the TV on, flipping it fast through the stations. She skipped to CNN news first, for keeping somewhat updated on the current events was necessary when one lived in the mountains alone. What she saw didn’t turn her brain to mush, only made her jaw drop wider. What she had just experienced had not only hit her, but the WHOLE world. The caption that flashed across the screen said BILLIONS DEAD FROM KOREAN DISEASE! The solo new anchor looked as if he had been crying, and talking as if he was completely alone. He even threw in a few cuss words as he reported. This had to be real. He noted there was very were survivors that had let themselves be known. Those very few millions had banded together in a place called Exodar, seeking companionship and answers. Her new found Faith only grew at word of this. God had only chosen a small amount of humans to survive this, and she out of all people was one of them! “How amazing!” she giggled, strangely collected at the realization that so many people died. That didn’t bother her one bit at all.
“I will go to Exodar, and find my own answers!” she cheered, patting herself on the back before jumping off the couch again. It took her a very short time to back up a duffle bag of her favorite weapons (she couldn’t find the heart to abandon them) and some clothes. After a quick PBandJ sandwhich, she hopped in her car and began her long, mountainous journey to the nearest airport she could find on her GPS.
Eris Becker’s adventure begins as she arrives at the airport. Scattered people, all complete strangers, were collecting in circles with what little belongings they had. These others must have also seen the news and had the same idea as her to find a flight out of the US to go to Exodar, where ever the hell that place was. Luckily a pilot had survived the disease and was waiting around for enough people to fill his one plane before taking off. Eris had made it there on time it appeared, “Thanks again God!” No one checked her duffle bag of weapons. No one cared. Security guards were out of the question. Of course those dumb bastards wouldn’t survive. Eris made her way on the place with ease, sliding her bag in the overhead compartment. She sat down in her chair against the plane’s window, watching as everyone filed in on the plane. This would be a long, long ride, she thought. And it was.
Eris Becker lay sprawled out on her torn, 1980’s vintage couch, positioned in front of the very old television (2005) she bought at a Good Will for a steal. It was turned off, for she never really watched TV much, expect for America’s Most Wanted which she had made several premieres on. Eris’ right leg hung over the side while her other was tucked behind her head. Her long frame took up the whole length of the couch, feet putting pressure on the armrest opposite of her head. She was in a white t-shirt and some men briefs (more comfortable than a thong, she believed). The temperature in her cabin was scorching, which was very odd for where she lived, high up in the mountains. “Some crazy heat wave,” she murmured to herself, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, collecting tiny beads of sweat. Today she wanted to go hiking through the trails, maybe hunt a couple of deer or rabbit. Yet, when she woke up this particular morning, she felt off. The same way she began to feel before she would get real sick. Having to give up medical trips went along with being a wanted criminal, so she had to lay low. Which meant ride out every illness till they pass. Eris was lucky that she was an overall very healthy woman, but no one is perfect.
I must be getting pretty fucking sick, she cursed, never seeing it that strange that she talked out loud to herself. Getting out of bed was more than a struggle that morning. She couldn’t even change out of her night wear into an outfit for the day. It was obvious she was going to spend her enitre day on the couch in bitter, hungry annoyance.
As the time passed though and it hit mid afternoon, what seemed like a normal flu turned into a full blown body hell. Eris Becker was smart, a genius in fact, even if she was just as much crazy. The quiet crazy type. She didn’t need to have anyone else around or a doctor to tell her this was no ordinary illness. Running through her mind of anything it could possibly be, she could think of nothing, or what on Earth could of caused it. She hadn’t had anything rotten to eat, or been around a city population to catch something. She was trying to hold the pain she felt in as best she could, biting down on her lip. Showing pain, admitting that she is weak, pissed her off the most. This whole experience was a slap in the face, for there was nothing that she could do to make herself feel better. She was convinced that even the euphoric rush she got from watching someone bleed couldn’t make her feel any better. That was saying a whole, whole lot. Her legs soon enough began convulsing in waves, unable to control the shakes. And it was so unbearably hot.
The heat combined with the headaches and seizure shakes was making Eris delusional. Forget talking to herself now, she was talking to an empty room, expecting answers. As she gripped a blanket, she wasn’t sure if she was going to make it. “Tell me this will end tomorrow, TELL ME!” she cried in broken shrieks, gasping for air in between sobs. Her skin was too on fire to absorb any miniscule air whatsoever to her her off. Day one of this disease ended in Eris passing out on her couch, surrounding by torn pillows and broken glass from throwing everything in the cabin around to try and feel better. Nothing worked.
Day two consisted of even more screaming, this time for help. Help to the nothingness around that could hear her. She managed to roll off the side of the couch, crawling as if a toddler all over again to her bedroom, avoiding some, but not all, of the broken shards of glass on the floor that once made up her cup set. Who needed cups anyway when they were experiencing hell inside oneself? It took her almost two hours to muster up the will to stretch her muscles enough to climb her bed. Eris was unbelievably toned, so for her to doubt her capability to pick herself up made her frightful. “Help... please,” she whispered, rolling on top of her sheets, face up, glaring at the ceiling. She passed out that night in more pain than Day one.
Day Three. The final day of her suffering. She woke up, or at least she hoped she did. This, after all, was what death must of felt like. Maybe she slipped in the shower a couple days ago and died, and she was just now realizing it. There was no more screaming going on this morning. Her throat was in lockdown after yelling in agony during her sleep. Her eyelids shivered as the pain ran up and down her spine, through her veins, into the very breath she took. It wasn’t until the sun rose around 8 am that she came to turns she was still alive. It blasted through her cabin window like a beam from heaven itself, if there was such a thing. Almost regretting the fact that she was indeed still alive. She didn’t know how much longer she could handle living life like this. Death seemed more convenient. The delusions only started to get worse as her chest raised up and down heavily. Her ceiling was so bright, so incredibly bright. Her hands that had been tearing at the sheets all night were still bleeding softly.
“God!” she pleaded, as if she really believed in one, and right now she was convinced God did exist. This had to be punishment for her sins, for all her sick, sick sins. Yet what she was experiencing seemed like more pain than any of the 30 people combined that she had killed in her past. Her pain was more, it had to have been. “God, please forgive me! It was the anger inside of me! You saw what my father did to my mother and I, You SAW! He made me this way!!” she begged, glaring at her heavenly ceiling as if she could see God crossing his arms at her. She promised at that moment to the Almighty, her One and Only, that she would forsake her ways. Stop her killings. Make right in the world! As long as he let her live, to stop the pain. And He answered.
It was on the third evening of the third day of being struck up by the disease that it rapidly began subsiding. Thank the Lord, His will had been done! She believed this deeply, to her core. She was saved, and she knew she had been heard. All of her energy returned once again, and strange enough she was feeling almost better than before. Eris Becker got down on her hands and knees and kissed her folded palms, then raised her head to the ceiling she had been talking to that morning. “I will keep my promise,” she smiled devilishly, but meaning in all truth what she was saying. After all, if God saved her from this, and she broke her promise, what would stop Him from striking her down then and there. She finally had the strength to shower after three days, which was much needed because sweat and blood don’t smell too good together. The water in her shower made her feel cleansed. She sang loudly as she scrubbed herself down, singing made up Holy hymns like, “Thank you for saving my ass, la dee dah,” and her favorite so far, “God gave me hell, He gave me life, now the devil shall rest aside.” The latter was an eerie premonition, to say the least, for her inner devil was indeed at rest.
It wasn’t until she finally looked in the mirror that she finally noticed something had changed about her. She was putting on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt when she made eye-contact with her reflection. What she saw made her falter, tripping back a few steps in shock. Her eyes were the color of red. And though it was evening on this Third Day, and the sun had set an hour ago, she could see everything in her dark room clearly. Like fucking night vision, she thought to herself. Did the illness she had cause this change? Was there anything else it caused? This was just weird, and she was in no mood for making her confusion even more complex. “Television!” she yelled, as if hoping that might turn her brain to mush long enough for her nerves to settle down. Eris ran into the cabin’s main room, hopping around the broken glass on the floor and then landing like a plop on her old couch. She turned the TV on, flipping it fast through the stations. She skipped to CNN news first, for keeping somewhat updated on the current events was necessary when one lived in the mountains alone. What she saw didn’t turn her brain to mush, only made her jaw drop wider. What she had just experienced had not only hit her, but the WHOLE world. The caption that flashed across the screen said BILLIONS DEAD FROM KOREAN DISEASE! The solo new anchor looked as if he had been crying, and talking as if he was completely alone. He even threw in a few cuss words as he reported. This had to be real. He noted there was very were survivors that had let themselves be known. Those very few millions had banded together in a place called Exodar, seeking companionship and answers. Her new found Faith only grew at word of this. God had only chosen a small amount of humans to survive this, and she out of all people was one of them! “How amazing!” she giggled, strangely collected at the realization that so many people died. That didn’t bother her one bit at all.
“I will go to Exodar, and find my own answers!” she cheered, patting herself on the back before jumping off the couch again. It took her a very short time to back up a duffle bag of her favorite weapons (she couldn’t find the heart to abandon them) and some clothes. After a quick PBandJ sandwhich, she hopped in her car and began her long, mountainous journey to the nearest airport she could find on her GPS.
Eris Becker’s adventure begins as she arrives at the airport. Scattered people, all complete strangers, were collecting in circles with what little belongings they had. These others must have also seen the news and had the same idea as her to find a flight out of the US to go to Exodar, where ever the hell that place was. Luckily a pilot had survived the disease and was waiting around for enough people to fill his one plane before taking off. Eris had made it there on time it appeared, “Thanks again God!” No one checked her duffle bag of weapons. No one cared. Security guards were out of the question. Of course those dumb bastards wouldn’t survive. Eris made her way on the place with ease, sliding her bag in the overhead compartment. She sat down in her chair against the plane’s window, watching as everyone filed in on the plane. This would be a long, long ride, she thought. And it was.