On Borrowed Wings

[Dusk]

recording...
location: invergordon salvage Yards, inverness system
current date: 20.05.834
local time: 18:54
detected entities: locksmith

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He spent two days in silence. Trying to comprehend what was revealed to him in his dreams. And then trying to accept it. His mind, with the desperation of a cornered animal, tried to deny what he saw, to find another explanation for it.

But there was simply no other interpretation. And he felt in his gut that it was true.

“Entry three...”

The words were spoken slowly, reluctantly, quietly. Roland, sitting on the couch in a hunched position, covered his eyes with his hand.

He didn't just run away from his parents all those years ago. He burned them. Locked them inside and set the house on fire.

He heard them. Their curses, their pleas, their cries of pain. And then silence came. It would have reigned supreme if not for the crackling of the fire and the quiet sobs of the little girl.

Was it right? Was it fair? It didn't matter. Especially then. They would have killed her, so he just killed them first.

"It was survival... It was, right?"

He slowly got up and walked over to the table. He lowered his head, peering into the visor of the helmet lying there. As if trying to find confirmation of his words.

"It was... It had to be. It was us or them... Us or them! It was! IT FUCKING WAS!!"

His voice broke. His eyes glowed with a mixture of anger and pain, lost and found again. His chest heaved heavily, and he felt a treacherous weakness in his limbs. He had hardly eaten for the last two days.

Roland grabbed his head and sat down at the table. Several deep breaths and exhalations. His composure gradually returned, slowly allowing him to think.

"She probably doesn't know. Even if she remembers the fire, she doesn't know that I started it."

Fingers tapped on the table. Roland, looking thoughtfully at the monitor, sighed a few seconds later.

"And it will remain so. At least for now. She has the right to know, but... I can't risk worsening her condition. Not now, when she finally has a chance to get better thanks to the Technocrats."

His hands fell on his helmet as if of their own accord. He needed to get away from here for a while. To fill his head with something else.

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end of recording