Chapter Text
My feet were uncomfortably slipping on the damp tiles of the greenhouse, which hadn't been cleaned for several weeks. No one had actually come here much. People use it to grow plants and vegetables. I use it for hiding. The voices don't reach me here. I don't know if they're just in my head or not. But I don't hear them here. I don't have to be, afraid here.
"Stellan?" A weak voice broke the silence. My mother. Her voice never haunts me, it exists in harmony with mine. "Yes mother?" She loved the greenhouse as much as I did, maybe even more. I turned to look at her. "Come sit here with me." She clapped her hand on the floor beside her. The dirt on the floor didn't tempt me much but I sat down next to her anyway. How else, she was sitting in front of the white roses. Sometimes I think she loved them more than me. "I used to grow roses in my garden." Sad smile creeps on her face as she reached over to a rose petal. Her hand was as porcelain white as the rose. Radiation had caused her big problems in the past but now it was worse. It's like she's slowly fading away. She's aging so much faster and her body is wasting out.
"I've grown other things," she said. "Peppers, for example! Yes, your father loved peppers..." She was lost in memories again. I could see it in her eyes. I actually felt quite sorry for her. She loved her life before... This. The world was already in the shits before she was born but after the Global Nuclear Meltdown, everything seemed to go even further downhill.
Some blame God or a higher power. I blame the people and their stupidity. But apparently I have no right to talk about it because I'm the "new kid". That's what they call people born after Meltdown. As if it wasn't the adults who caused this. About twenty years ago, nearly five hundred nuclear power plants exploded, and that caused this. We have to live in bunkers hidden away and with almost no resources and pretend that everything is fine, that this is normal.
"You know, when I was your age, I was going out with my friends to clubs, getting ready to go to university. Life was so much better..." She said. I don't know why I enjoy hearing about things I'll never have. Maybe I'm a masochist. "Too bad you won't experience that." She sighed and plucked a rose.
"You know I had a dream today." She twirled the rose between her fingers. "A dream or?" I asked. "A prediction. Yes, it was a prediction." A small stream of blood trailed between her fingers, staining the rose. The thorns dug into her thin skin, tearing it. "What did you see?" Actually, I don't know if I want to know. My mom's predictions are mostly bad, and what's worse is that they mostly come true. "You, Stellan." My breath caught in my throat and it felt like my heart stopped. "You're going to save us. I can see it. The new land. You'll find it Stellan."
She smiled, watching the drops of her blood on the tiles. "I... What?" I stammered. "You have to help us!" The door to the greenhouse suddenly opened and the woman who had been taking care of my mother walked in.
She was a middle-aged lady with a tight ponytail of thick brown hair. "Mrs. Grimmsson! It's time to go back to your room." The lady smiled unpleasantly. "Come on Mom!" I smiled at her and helped her stand up. Her Supervisor shot me a scowl that made my blood freeze. "Mr. Grimmson you know you're not supposed to talk to Mom without professional or other adult supervision." She basically growled it at me. I never liked her very much and honestly now I hate her. Everyone acts like I can't take care of my own mother. Or like she's going to hurt me. Her mental state isn't the best, yes i will admit that, but she would never, ever hurt me. I don't believe that. "Come on Franchesca, I'll take you to your room." The Supervisor said, reaching out her hand to my mom. Mom nodded absently. "To my room.... we're going back to Stockholm?" Her eyes brightened with joy and hope. At least it held something for her.
Maybe it was unhealthy but if it made her happy, what was wrong with that? The Supervisor no longer corrected her either, she found it unnecessary. Mom loved Stockholm. She loved roses, Stockholm and freedom. She can't have either. Not anymore. Mum and her Supervisor slowly leave the greenhouse and I'm left alone again. As always. Sometimes the idea of life without Mom hurts. Very much, actually. But not much will change. There'll just be one less voice. I looked down at the sleeve of my shirt and noticed that Mom's blood had stained my sleeves red. They're finally something interesting.