Orpheus

29

The rest of her days aboard the Resilience floated away like a murky dream; Riley spent most of her time lying in her bed. The only times she left her room were to either grab a bite, use the loo, or do a quick check on the incubators. You'd be surprised by the lack of contact two people can have when they don't want to meet each other; the most contact she'd had with Owen after were small waves from afar. Neither of them seemed to try and spring a conversation, hence they never met. Part of Riley was relieved.

Part of her though; part of her ached.

'Why does it hurt so much; to not talk to him?' she thought to herself, staring out the window by her bed. The stars glistening in the night, almost flirting with the black.

'This is probably for the best... right? Soon, the rest of the crew will wake, and... and then what? It'll all go back to normal? I don't know... but this is for the best, right?'

She shook her head in disdain and turned her attention to the book on her lap. She'd tried to drown her days away in old hobbies: writing, sketching. She used to do those when she was a kid, but like so many other things of childhood, lost it while growing up. She hadn't written this much in ages, and found poetry as an old friend welcoming her; embracing her as if she'd never left. She flipped a random page and read what her heart had chosen to vomit:

-

I have a dozen feelings inside me
wresting control; it's about time we
made up our differences; mind and heart.
Being more rational for a start.
I feel too much, think too little.
"Try not to be so belittle."
The mind tells me, but my heart
with a dozen feelings tones apart
disagrees; for it's just a cart
full of dynamite, a fuse already lit.
The most you can do is just sit
and wait for it to blow. Then it
starts to mend itself again:
Fix an axle here, a wheel there.
Fill the cart with explosives again:
Love, compassion, anger, care.
And set the cart on its ride downhill,
and once again wait for it to blow;
standing ever so still...

-

The room is bright, but cold.
A refuge of hers from old.
She walks about in daze,
finding that her gaze
often fell on the pictures
on the wall.
They were her memories;
good, bad and all.

The bright light piercing her eyes,
she looks on, hoping to reprise
her roles in life, former.
She found the past to be a warmer
place than the present.
Though rose tinted glasses never represent
things as they were in actuality
she'd rather be in the
cold, bright room than reality.

-

Riley shook her head in dissatisfaction; she wasn't really pleased with her work, but it was a catharsis she'd relied on for the past few days.

'Sometimes, I wish I weren't so morbid... Other times, I just am.'

Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door.

"Riley?" she heard Owen's voice from the other side of the door.

A brief swell of emotions overtook Riley. "Yeah?" she managed to calm herself down.

"Well, two weeks are almost up, so... you want to go into cryo?" he asked; Riley thought she heard a twinge of hope in his voice.

'Maybe he wants me to stay?'

"Yeah," she replied back firmly, almost devoid of any emotion. Almost. "What time?"

There was a silence; it almost flared at Riley, before Owen replied: "As early as you want it to be." Riley imagined there was a hint of sadness in his voice.

She stood stool for a while, waiting, before she realized he'd left. She could almost feel something in her chest crack, slowly tugging at her throat; she didn't know why she felt so. 

'This is probably for the best... I was using him as a distraction. Humanity comes first; the mission comes first.'

She walked back to her place by the bed and looked at the stars for a while, before flipping to a blank page in her notebook. She let her heart dictate her words, hoping what she wrote might come true:

-

Move on.
Move on from the good and bad.
Let go of what you once had.
Life's too short to waste away sad.

Move on.
Move on from those shattered dreams.
Let go the futures you'd seen.
Life's harder than it seems.

Move on.
Move on from the memories.
Let go what once brought you ease.
Life's too short to not be in peace.

Move on.
Move on from the good and bad.
Let go of what you once had.
Life's too short to waste away sad.

-

She didn't even feel that bad when the cryo fluid hit her the next day; she almost didn't think of Owen.

Almost.