Souls Awaken

Ashlyn Jenson was born the youngest child in a family of five children. This was ironic, as the number five seemed to influence most of her life, though she didn't know that then. She was born on the fifth day of the fifth month at precisely five minutes after five in the morning.

When she was five, Ashlyn had been riding home from little league soccer practice with her family. At the underpass, a tractor-trailer came speeding at them, and all she could hear were screeching tires and the endless screams of her siblings and parents before she succumbed to the darkness that threatened to surround her.

When she finally opened her eyes, it was dark and still. She knew it would take some time for her eyes to adjust. Then, she realized she was still in her seat in the family car. Ashlyn began fumbling for the seatbelt buckle on her car seat, finally finding the housing and clicking it open.

Her back hit the ground hard, causing her to groan in pain. She lay there, catching her breath and began wondering if her parents and siblings were safe and survived. It was too quiet.

Once she gathered herself, she climbed out of the car and around the rubble that encircled the car. She found her parents covered in blood. Too much blood, an obvious sign that they had been unlikely to have survived.

Looking around, Ashlyn couldn’t see her - three remaining - siblings. She caught sight of a sneaker in the road but couldn’t bring herself to see if it was attached to one of her siblings.

“Honey? Are you alright? Fred? Did you call 911?” Ashlyn heard from somewhere nearby. There was a face in front of her.

Someone wrapped her in a blanket. Someone was asking her questions. Someone was shining a light in her eyes. Someone was talking. She was being held by someone who was running.

Ashlyn didn’t see who any of the ‘someones’ were before she once again lost consciousness.

Years later, she would discover the truth about that night.

Twelve years later

Ashlyn woke up to the sun blazing in her face, brighter than usual. She peered out the window, the bars reminding her of the misery that had been her life.

Someone had died overnight. Ashlyn watched as Guards carried a body, wrapped in a white sheet, to a building across from her window. Smoke came from a chimney at the back. Rumor had it they burned the bodies of those who died.

As always, she heard the morning sounds of the hammering of batons against the prisoners' doors. She yawned, opened her eyes, sighed, and sat up on the rock-hard bed.

Owing to the circumstances of her imprisonment, she did not share a cell. This wasn't solitary confinement, as this prison didn't provide that. It was for her safety, so They said.

Unlike the cell at her hometown prison, she felt safer here. Welcome almost, as if she didn't have a care in the world. Of course, she had many.

Such was her life. She sighed, then looked up as her name was spoken.

"And this is Ashlyn Jenson, our youngest resident in this hall. This facility, actually. Actually, I think she is the youngest anywhere." It was the Warden, whom Ashlyn presumed was a new Guard. He sounded proud that Ashlyn was the youngest. Like she was the jewel of a collection or something.

"Isn't she the one whose Astral Projection was discovered near the body of that homeless man?" The new guard asked.

She wanted to mutter a defence. To blurt out, ‘but it wasn't me!’ However, no words left her mouth. No matter how hard she urged her brain and mouth to cooperate. To protect her. It just wouldn’t happen.

The same had happened during the hearing that led to her landing here. When she first arrived, she even attempted to talk with the visiting Correctional Counselor at the prison, but to no avail.

That conversation had been well, not torture. Not exactly. But close. She remembered it:

So, Ashlyn Jenson, right? Do you understand why you're here?”

I killed a man. I mean, thats what i was told. But I didn’t mean to!” She had been 13 during the conversation and terrified. She shook as she spoke.

Do you remember anything about your family?”

“I remember seeing them die. And their blood covering me. But nothing else.”

“Good. Do you remember their names?”

Ashlyn focused hard and tried But couldn't. She shook her head.

What do you remember about their deaths?!” The Correction Counselor demanded.

Ashlyn shook her head, fighting back tears

The trauma of what she had seen stuck in her head. Situational trauma, they called it. Just a fancy way of saying her brain couldn't handle seeing a decapitated homeless man.

Even the Correctional Officers here thought she had committed the murder despite there being no evidence of blood on her hands or clothes when she returned to her body.

Unfortunately, she couldn't astral project now. Unlike most of her fellow prisoners, she had discovered why her attempts were unsuccessful. It was because the entirety of her cell, from top to bottom, was made of steel. The bars across the front were a cross-section of steel. It was blocking her ability.

She sighed, stood up, and walked over to the bars of her cell to watch as the Warden continued to talk to the new Correctional Officer.

The Warden stood outside Ashlyn's cell, staring at her, making her understandably uncomfortable. He unlocked her cell, cuffed her and led her to the infirmary.

She was confused. She wasn't hurt. She wasn’t sick. So why was she here?

The doctor looked over her file.

"Jenson? The astral projector?" The Doctor asked Warden Masters.

"Yes. This is her. We doing it with her awake or unconscious?"

"Awake, but let’s restrain her," Masters replied. He grinned and looked at Ashlyn. “Please sit down, Ash. It won't take long. It's just a little tracking chip."

He lied through his teeth.

Ashlyn was forced down into a chair that reminded her of a dentist’s chair, and she was soon restrained.

She felt a pinch in her neck before she could even ask what was going on. She glared in disgust at the Warden. Needles were one of her biggest fears in the world.

"What? It's just a little tracking chip. Think you can behave long enough for you to eat with gen pop?"

She nodded, and he undid her restraints, helping her stand up. She swayed a bit. Then, she found her balance and followed him out of the room.

She had to prove she hadn't killed that man. That her spirit being found in that parking garage was a mere coincidence. It had been exactly a year since she'd been sent here.

Tonight. Tonight, she would prove her innocence, though she didn't know how.

In the early days, right after the accident, when she was first learning to astral project, she would mostly pull pranks. Toilet paper a house, leaving a mess in a home—simple things like that.

But when she turned thirteen, it got worse. She hadn’t been able to control it as easily. She tried not to think of those days. That wouldn't last long.

Soon, the Correctional Counselor would require her to be more honest about her past. He would make her respond, whether she wanted to or not.