Turmoil - 'First Breath'

Omnelle was experiencing a new emotion.

The name of this feeling was not at all as delicious to say as the word 'curious'.  It was not something as clear as 'certain'.  It was not something as silly as 'amused'.  It was a very, very ugly word – with an even uglier, more horrible, terrible, terrible meaning.

It sounded like 'born'.  The word was 'bored'.

The silly man with the big ears had had to leave.  He couldn't tell her why, because he couldn't tell her why, because he couldn't tell her why, because he –

Well, so on.

And it was frustrating.  That was another new emotion.  Frustration.  But she was mostly just bored, because she was in a room that was all blackish that she could hardly see in on some sort of platform.  The smiling man had said that she wasn't supposed to move.  But she was frustrated, because he couldn't tell her why.  He couldn't tell her many things, which almost made her feel like he just didn't know.  But how could that be possible?  He created her.  Of course he knew. He just had to know.  If he didn't know, who could?  She and he were all there was, right?

Well, he and this darned black cellar.

But he'd left her.  Why would he leave her all alone?  Omnelle sniffed.  

Here was another emotion.  This was a terrible achy feeling in her chest.  Well, it was another emotion, but this one she could divide into several different bits:

First there was loneliness.  She was all alone, in this emptiness, her legs swinging over the edge of the table idly.  He wasn't there.

Then there was dejection.  Was she not worth his time?  Why did he have to disappear?  Didn't he care about her?

Then there was frustration: he had created her!  He should set aside some time to take care of her, shouldn't he?  What else did he have to do?  There was just her, wasn't there?  So he'd left her all alone feeling dejected and horrible and –

But really, it all could be wrapped up in one word: sadness.  Complete and total sadness.  She was devastated, heartbroken.

Omnelle sniffed.  She wasn't sure why.  She couldn't help it.  She sniffed again, and blinked frantically as her eyes started to water.  What was wrong with her eyes?

Oh.  That's it; she must be crying.  She knew that word, somehow, like all the other words she somehow knew.

Crying.  What a horrible, horrible word.  She hated that word.

"I – don't – want – to – be – al – one," she sobbed, sliding off the stiff bed and wiping the strange wet streaks from her face.  One dripped into the corner of her mouth. "Salty… tears are salty," she observed, lifting and twisting her tongue to lap up a few more drops.  Hmm, she'd never tasted anything before.  Funny, how that felt. "Omnelle is lonely and tears are salty and everything is dark," Omnelle continued, starting to stretch her legs across the room.

"I am walking!" she laughed.  She'd never walked before.  "I am moving.  Walking is fun and tears are salty and I am lonely!"

That's when her foot caught, her body jerked, her face fell – and slam, she hit the floor.  Omnelle spat, pulling her stomach off the ground.

"Trip," she choked out. "I have tripped and fallen."

She reached out blindly, trying to find something to help pull herself up.  Her fingers grasped some sort of glass casing.  She stood, clinging to case and squinting in the dimness.

"What is this?"

Inside the glass case were many different types of bottles, each a different funny shape.  The bottles were filled with all sorts of pretty liquids of all sorts of different colors.  Some had powder inside them, too.  The powder sparkled.  Omnelle laughed, biting her lip and giggling.

"Pretty!  They are pretty.  What are these?  They are very pretty…  They are in a case.  I want to get inside.  How do I hold the pretty bottles?" She started brutally mutilating her lower lip with her teeth, contemplating.  The case jutted out form the wall slightly, the things inside glistening and glowing.  She pressed her fingers against the smooth surface.  She pressed her nose against it too.  She wanted to hold the pretty bottles.  She sniffed again, her chin trembling. "I can't hold the pretty bottles!" Omnelle wailed.  She was about to burst into full on tears once more, when suddenly she noticed a little imperfection in the side of the case.

"A latch!  It is a latch… I know what a latch is.  I can open it!" she giggled, opening the case and beaming at the beautiful bottles inside.  She grasped a glowing one, passing it from one hand to another.  She gazed at the now empty fingers of her left hand, covered in some sort of florescent blue substance.  The liquid must be outside the bottle as well, she deduced.

Omnelle lifted the container up to her eyes, gazing.

"You are very pretty.  My name is Omnelle.  Who are you?" she asked, tilting her head.  Silence was her only reply. "Are you not talking to me because my name is so silly?  I didn't choose it.  The Silly Man with the Big Ears and Smile gave it to me.  He likes it.  I think it's funny.  What do you think?  Do you have a pretty name?" Again, silence was all she got. "He might have left me all alone," Omnelle continued, narrowing her eyes, "but at least he answered me.  He might have said he couldn't tell me things, but at least he said he couldn't!  You're just being silent.  That's not very nice at all." Once more, the glowing bottle refused to reply. "That's it!  You might be pretty, but you are not nice."  

Omnelle threw it to the ground angrily.

I am angry, she realized. Anger is ugly.  Anger is hot!  Anger makes me want to scream.  I don't like anger!  Anger makes me angry!

But that's when the explosion hit, blasting her backwards and slamming her into a wall.  Her eyes were wide with shock, she was spattered in some sort of glowing blue substance – and she was burning.  She turned down to her chest, covered in a wide, horrible mark.  Tears that were salty streamed down her face, towards the red raw skin.

"What?" she gasped.  No one was there to answer her. "Why – …. I hurt.  Pain."

She sat there, gazing outward.

"Pain is worse than anger."

Something blinding filled her eyes – it was white… it was bright…

"Light.  I've never seen light before," she whispered.

Stairs; there were stairs.  The man with the big ears was coming down them.

"I'm sorry I was gone so long, but – Omnelle!" he called, skipping steps and running up to her.  He knelt down before her, looking her wounds up and down. "What happened?"

"The mean little pretty bottle hurt me," she replied with a sad voice, pointing outwards towards its remains.  The other glanced over his shoulder.  He sighed.

"Omnelle, I told you to stay on the table."

"Why did you leave me alone with something that could hurt me?"

"Well, I hadn't wanted to, but – "

"Why do you even have something that would hurt me?"

"I couldn't have made you if – "

"I was bored and lonely and tears are salty and walking is fun and I was sad and you left me alone and alone and alone!" she accused.

The man looked her in the eye.

"I'm sorry, Omnelle.  But I have responsibilities."

She sniffed.

"Aren't I your responsibility?"

"Of course you are."

"Then what else is there?"

He sighed.

"Well, it's… it's complicated.  How about I make it up to you?"

"Make it up to me?" Omnelle asked curiously.

"Yes.  Sure.  I'll take you somewhere new."

"What?" she blinked.

"You've got to know that there's more to the world than this basement, right?" he joked.

"What?"

He grinned.

"Come on, Nelle.  I'll take you," he said, standing and pulling her to her feet.

"Ah!" she called out. 'Nelle'? she thought. What's 'Nelle'?

"Oh, right… Omnelle, don't play with pretty glowing bottles or you might get hurt again. They're dangerous.  Now hold still.  Let me heal you."

He narrowed his eyes and mumbled, moving his hands strangely.  Omnelle laughed despite how much she hurt, then glanced down at her wounds.  They were slowly growing back, flesh stacking on top of flesh and knitting tightly.  It tickled.

"Tickle!  You're tickling.  You're healing.  Healing… tickles?"

The man shrugged.

"Sometimes.  But anyhow: please, from now on, do as I say."

"Or I'll have pain again?"

"Um… sometimes."

Omnelle nodded gravely.

"I will always listen to you." She paused, "I don't know your name."

He grinned sheepishly.

"Oh, yes, I forgot about that. Well, it's – "

"Can I name you?!" she called, jumping and clapping excitedly.

"No!" the man with the big ears protested. "I already have a name."

"But you named me," she pouted.

"You didn't have name yet.  I do.  I'm Collin."

Omnelle cocked her head.

"C…o…l…l…i…n.  Your name is nice.  Collin is nice." She smiled, "Collin made me.  Collin heals me, and Collin is nice."

Collin was beaming.

I told you so, he thought. I told you I could do it.  How's this for a science project?  Beats a floating model solarsystem, doesn't it?  Ha!

"So are you ready?"

"For what?  Will there be more light?"

"Yes, lots of light.  Come on!" he grabbed her wrist and ran for the steps.

Omnelle was experiencing an old emotion.  Omnelle was curious.  But she was experiencing a new one, too.

"I am excited," she whispered through smiling lips.