I introduced Ever a while back, well here is a little bit more of her story. I’m still not entirely sure where she fits in the grand scheme of things, but she sure wants her story told, even if it is in fragmented pieces:
The mist from her breath turned to baby ice crystals as she sat crouched in the snow, bracing herself against a tree with one hand. Her knees were aching from staying in the same position for too long. Her feet were numb as were her hands and her nose. She was just betting something was frostbitten and prayed it wasn’t her cute little nose. No matter how numb she was or how her knees ached, she couldn’t move. Not yet. A predator was stalking its prey, only Ever wasn’t entirely certain if she was the predator or the prey. She started out as the prey: running from the shattered ruins of an unknown urban shelter. That is how she ended up in some desolate forest, surrounded by skeletons that were once vibrant living trees, crouching in 18 inches of snow. Fucking freezing snow at that. She had just kept running, not knowing and not caring where she was going. She just knew she had to get away from him. Was it even a him? Perhaps a her? Maybe even a them? Could it be an it?
Her mind raced—not stopping, not stalling, not even a little bit, not even long enough for her to focus on one of the thoughts that was making her want to drive an ice pick through her temple. She was sure she could find one too in this frozen hellhole. Her chest felt heavy, as though a hundred hummingbirds were in her chest, flapping their wings, causing heaviness and a speeding heart. She knew she was having a panic attack or damn near close to having one. Maybe this will show them, those self-righteous bastards. If the good in her doesn’t prove she’s human, maybe the crappy parts will.
She could hear their voices amidst the tumultuous thoughts, “She’s a clone, she’s not even human, what does she have to panic about?” Well, I am panicking. It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the fact that I’m in a frozen nowheresville, turning into an icy-pop. Or maybe it’s because I’m being hunted. Like an animal. Because, in the end, that’s all I really am to you pious assholes, an animal. Less than, because even animals were created by God.