All Maggie heard was the sound of lapping waves. They didnβt crash on the shore with defining noise, nor did they hit a daunting cliff face while lighting cracked, as if it were a perfect soundtrack to a gothic novel. The waves were simple. Soft. They chilled Maggieβs toes.
As her gaze slowly moved up from the sandy ground, her eyes traced over a lake that reflected the sky so well it could fool her into believing she could swim through the clouds. She felt a sense of wonderment fill her chest, as if filling a hole that had been missing for quite some time. Everything around her made her feel warm, from the birdsong that floated through the air to the flower beds spread wild. She hadnβt even minded the pollen that tickled her nose.
After a few minutes, she began to notice chatter and laughter behind her. Her reaction was odd. That pure wonderment she experienced soon turned to a feeling of love. To a feeling of being at home, to being at peace. Sheβd felt a happiness she couldnβt recall feeling before.
βMaggie?β someone called from the noise behind her, snapping her out of the daze sheβd enveloped herself in. A small smile inched from the corner of her mouth as she began to turn around to face whoever had called her, but the scene faded away the second she caught a glimpse of brunette hair.
Rubbing her eyes, she slid from under the scratchy grey blanket that did shit all to keep her warm. Her bare feet touched the concrete stone under her, and even after three years of being here, that sudden chill of cool stone still sent a shocking shiver up her spine. As if on cue, the little slot on her heavily locked and mechanically powered door slid open, and a tray of mush food was slid under.
The only time Magnolia ever hears someone call her Maggie anymore is in that dream. It reoccurs nearly every night; sheβs standing in front of a lake, someone calls out to her, and she wakes up just before she can look to who it is. That warm feelings always vanishes as soon as reality awakens.
She doesnβt get called Maggie by anyone here. Hell, not even Magnolia. Sheβs just an orange, a prisoner. Not like she has much interaction anyways. The only time she sees anyone is when guards file in after knocking her useless with the white noise.
She hates the white noise. Though, she can't imagine anyone liking it if the effects work on them. She has no idea how they even created such an awful thing, how this certain high pitched noise could be so hurtful and ear bleeding that all Maggie can do, all anyone under the IAAN colour classification field can do, is crumple to the ground ground, covering their ears and scream and throw up from the shear pain. It was like your head exploding but it hasnβt brought you death. Just the inability to do anything except focus on your brain as it keeps getting bombed even after itβs turned to liquid.
Yeah, sheβs in no state to use her powers when thatβs going on. Bastards in the Camp: 1, IAAN Kids: 0.
Maggie chose to ignore the metal platter at the base of her door. When youβre fed the most basic, non-nutritional food that was cheapest to provide, oneβs appetite just dissipates. She was fourteen when she came here. Though she grew taller, she still fit the grey sweats that had been issued to her. If anything, they were a little too big for her frame.
Pressing the button at the side of her door (meant to alert whoever was outside her locked door that she was finished), the metal slot slid back open and she pushed the tray out without a second though. She clambered back onto her bed.
Just another day in her orange issued, isolated, concrete room. Truly a perk that no one could come near her while she was cognitive in fear that she would control them. Not like she would stupidly try like she first had when sheβd gotten here. There were too many people. She could break one mans mind at a time, only to have to do it over and over again. As soon as she was caught, theyβd shoot her on the spot, no questions. Sheβd heard the occasional gun shot outside her door. Didnβt take her much to figure out what had gone on out there.
There wasnβt much to do in a bland room by oneβs self. Shocker, she knows. Occasionally they slipped in a few things. A piece of paper. A torn book. But really she was just left with her thoughts. She barley even had any memories to keep her entertained, to recall in order to pass the time. She remembered her parents, bits and pieces of her childhood. But after she left her window to run away there was justβ¦ silence. Blackness. It was like sheβd been asleep from that point on until she was fourteen and entering the camps electric fenced gate. She didnβt know who took her memories, or what happened. Maybe it was the camp. A form of taking away what little freedom she may have had during that missing time period. Maybe the dream she always had was a memory. It seemed too real not to beβ
White noise filled her room, and Maggie let out a high pitched scream as she lurched over and hit the ground. No matter how many times this happened, it was just as worse as the last. Covering her ears, she couldnβt breath, couldnβt think. Her stomach lurched as her eyes were downcast on the grey floor. Too soon, the noise stopped, but the effects lasted.
There was a swift kick to her side where she had curled up in a ball. She grunted, but even the hit to the ribs wasnβt as painful as the throb in her head. βWhen we give you food, you fucking eat it,β growled the guard. Turning her head with a painful groan, Maggie drank the feeling now of cool concrete. The guard was young. A shiny newness was written on his face. Excitement. Maggie had never had a guard enter her room before alone. It was a rule to go in pairs when encountering an orange. This guy was reckless. Stupid. He was power hungry, looking to excerpt dominance over anyone he could. He just picked the first target he could; Maggie.
Stupid move.
Slipping into his mind, she felt as if she was pushing through gross sludge. She wasnβt interest in looking at his memories or listening to his sickening thoughts. She just had one goal.
βBack away now,β Maggie spoke, as she pushed the action into his head. She envisioned him doing it, projecting it to his mind. No room for him to ignore the compulsion. βIβll kill you, you stupid bitch-β, βyou will not hurt me. Keep yelling useless threats.β Maggie stated intensely, though her tone was hushed. Maggie was still playing fear. There were cameras in her room after all. She had to be careful.
As the guard continued to rattle off aimless yells, Maggie continued speaking, facing her head away from the camera so they couldnβt see her lips moving. βyou arenβt ever going to enter my room again by yourself, nor will you enter any other room. Do not hurt or kill any of us.β Maggie had to stop to suck in a sharp intake of breath. She was starting to feel the pain in her ribs as she whispered. βIf you are ordered to hurt or kill someone, fake it. Now leave my room, and forget this conversation happened. You came in here, hit me, yelled at me, and left. Thatβs it.β The man obeyed without another word, turning away.
Just before he left, Maggie quickly muttered, still very much in a painful heap on the ground, βdon't lock the door.β