Evanescence

"Wahhh! Wahh!! Wahh!"

The year was 2061. Squeezed in a desolate corner of the obstetrics ward, a wailing baby's screams echoed through the halls, hollering in surprise at its entrance to the world. A lanky, raven-haired nurse bursts past the doors with a deliberate indifference to aid the mother caring for her infant. Her heels click against the linoleum flooring, announcing her arrival. The woman's lips turned into a pout, cooing at the newborn as she shushed her as if she were her own. The new mother noticed a small twitch in the nurse's left eye and a light airiness in her step. Clearly annoyed by the child's lung power.

"What a nice set of lungs your little one has there. Real loud. The doctor hasn't administered any Zavirin yet?"

Clanking over to the clipboard hanging from the mobile workstation, the ravenette flipped through the pages carelessly. On the whiteboard across the room, the information portrayed the young woman's biographical data. Luvelle Drew Somersette. Her eyebrow raised in suspicion as she analyzed the page. Interesting. She has been given the drug already. For a moment, she stayed still. Halted in confusion. With a cold gaze, she turned to the blonde mother resting tenderly in her blue cot. It was an abnormal reaction, to be sure. The baby shouldn't be crying. Luvelle, shaking in nerves with a bloodshot gaze as she stiffly cradled her baby girl, refused to answer the nurse for some reason. She didn't trust her. Not in this built, walled-up society, where not a single soul could function without Zavirin. She shook off her anxiety as just nerves; The nurse was there to help, right? Maybe it wouldn't be such a big deal.

"T-the... The other nurse," She began. "She couldn't get the baby to take it. She just... threw it up."

And as Luvelle spoke, the ravenette's pupils dilated in shock. With a rushed haste, the attendant dropped the clipboard and scurried from the room. She quickly drew the curtain, peeking her head from a small circle she'd left to somehow think of something to say to Luvelle.

"T-The Doctor will be with you shortly!"

With that, she darted away. Her heels clicked and clacked with a harrowing pace down the hallway. Luvelle nestled her baby with a board-like hold, solid white tears dribbling down her face. An intravenous drip was deposited into her right arm, a 1000 mL bag of Zavirin. The baby had already been gone for hours. At birth, the child was pale-white, already sick from the constant abuse of Zavirin that Luvelle and everyone else in the world consumed. White, creamy tears were basic now; a simple side effect of the usage. The young woman sat for a moment, thinking of what on earth she could do to deal with this girl. Would they kick them out? No, they wouldn't dare. Not with Luvelle's husband's social status.

Just as she thought of her husband, waiting impatiently for his arrival, the man himself came busting into room 5007. Dressed in a brown suit and tie, wrists adorned with only the fanciest of watches, a 30-something man hustled to Luvelle's side. He ignored her tears. Must've just been hormones from the birth. Kissing her cheek harshly, almost with ownership, the man squeezed her cheeks without a single look to the child. "Evias, you're late. I've been here for hours," She scolded him, turning her body, and thus the child, from his impending stature.

"I know, my love, but you know how those Faders are. They think they can have what we have, and the revolts are getting more frequent. Who else would be able to deal with them if not me? I'm a voice of reason. You should be so lucky as to have me by your side, as the only one who can protect you. Protect you against them. They're neurotic, you know, they're not like us. It's a wasteland out there. You wouldn't last a second." Evias lectured her like a five-year-old, talking down to her like he always did, with an uncaring attitude. "What's got you in such a sour mood, anyway? Is your drip empty?" The man flicked recklessly at the drip of her Zavirin IV, earning a flinch from the young woman.

Luvelle Somersette wasn't born inside the citadel. Her family had been reduced to ruins after her father gave in to the drug trade, administering it to outsiders. Evias labeled himself as her savior, having rehabilitated her and settled her back into the good life, where she was meant to be. Evias never really wanted an heir. Not in this world, anyway, where he could so easily lose his power. Luvelle was more or less alone in this battle, if it wasn't evident already. Usually, she didn't mind. The drugs kept the worries away. But now, as tears streamed from her eyes, annoyances and worries of the future filled her mind, newfound sensations that she never had to worry about beforehand.

The prodigal mother looked down at her baby girl. She wasn't sobbing and hollering as most people did without Zavirin. No, she seemed almost... Normal. Something in between the high that Zavirin gave and the normalcy that used to be, many years ago. Luvelle stared into the girl's emerald orbs. She had her father's eyes. She hated it. Luvelle was of Mexican descent, with naturally bleached locks, likely from drug overuse before her birth. Her skin was a natural tan, a tanness that only the noble could afford, as the sun outside the citadel was too harsh on the Faders' sensitive skin, and too hidden by the forest. She was young. Not even twenty-one yet. Evias was older. He was almost thirty-five, displaying his brown, slicked-back hair in contrast to his pale skin. They were polar opposites, and Luvelle likely wouldn't be with him if it weren't for his cushy job. Not only was he a well-known politician, a voice of leadership, but from family connections, he had security clearance to outside the citadel. That was where he worked, with enough power to decide who stays and leaves. Luvelle wouldn't dare defy him.

Some time passed. Evias rambled on about his job, about his distaste for the savage Faders outside the walls, about his plans for the city. Not a single peep about his newborn child, as if this were any normal Saturday. Luvelle tuned him out, the girl's abnormalities lingering in her thoughts. They'd already drawn blood. Perhaps the lab results would give her some relief as to why the drug that everyone in the world used, for some reason, didn't work on her. Surely, Evias could make it go away. The politician prattled on, and in her attempts to listen to anything else, her gaze shifted to the window of their 10th-floor suite. She hardly ever saw birds here. Almost as if they knew this society was unnatural. Still, she surveyed the buildings. The long, concrete wall, decorated by vines and moss at the bases of riverbeds.

Outside held a dark, mysterious forest, riddled with drug rings and the infamous Faders. That's what they called them, at least. People lost to the impure form of the drug that the outside world began administering when Zavirin became too expensive. The worst side effect of the drug was what happened if you dared to stop taking it. As new generations began who had become physically relient on it, the side effects of losing access were unpredictable. Their eyes become wild, unblinking, or glazed, pupils dilated in permanent panic or fear. Voices rise into shrieks, murmurs, or guttural growls, often mid-thought, and words lose meaning to anyone but themselves. Hunger, pain, and desire intermingle in irrational bursts, driving them to attack, hoard, or flee without purpose.

The land outside the citadel is a wasteland of these broken minds. They roam in packs or alone, terrifying and desperate, scavenging scraps and fighting over scraps of contaminated Zavirin. They are feverish shadows of humanity, their sanity eroded by a chemical storm.

As years passed, as the need for the drug grew, the batches became more unstable. More unrefined. The world had fallen into an apocalyptic ruin after the eruption of the Supervolcano in Yellowstone National Park. A volcanic winter blanketed the world, creating a basin for famine, sickness, and starvation to spread. Agriculture had become devastated, and as mass evacuations took place, in terror, the people of the world fell to their savage ways. In the depression of so much death and destruction, Zavirin became more widespread. Soon, within the next 20 years, nobody was able to live without it. The poor spent their money on the unrefined batches, doing anything for the high. It wasn't a euphoric feeling. Moreso calmness. Apathy. No panicking, no stress, no worries. Hospitals for addicts and victims rose worldwide, administering the drug to victims of the volcano, millions of burn victims. It seemed to be the only thing that kept them calm in the eye of such destruction.

It came in droves. Starting with the hostile reactions of the Faders, their bodies transfigured into monstrous forms, riddled by addiction. Their mental state had become fluid and unpredictable. On the other side of the extreme, those who became addicted to the pure form lost their emotions altogether. Succumbing to the numbness with a blissful ignorance. Zavirin had taken over the world, a dependency more common than caffeine. So why now, after decades of research and global addiction, was this little girl able to survive without it? Moreso, it seemed her body rejected it. And since her birth, Luvelle's body no longer accepted it. Not like it used to, anyway. She felt herself feeling strong, unforeseen emotions, riddling her body with shakes and tremors.

For the first time in her life, Luvelle was lost to her impure thoughts. Evias attempted to get her attention as she zoned out to the blaring lights of the outside world. It wasn't until the sudden, boisterous entrance of a new figure entered the room that her mental focus shifted. The doctor, cloaked in white, with an aura of panic, crept into the room with an entire booklet of lab information. A new nurse, older and wiser, accompanied him. "Mr. and Mrs. Somersette, right? Doctor Rile, nice to meet you. I looked over your chart. Prior history of drug abuse, yes? Well, I'd be surprised if there wasn't." He stated with an improper chuckle. Clearing his throat as he saw the woman glaring in malaise, he pushed forward, clearing his throat as he trotted over to the man's side. For a moment, he stayed quiet. The silence was deafeningly loud.

"So, listen. Your daughter..." He sighed, adjusting his glasses along the bridge of his nose. "She seems to have an immunity. We found a new compound in her blood that rejects Zavirin. We don't know how, we-" He stopped in his tracks. Like he was hiding something he was too afraid to admit. They'd never seen anything like this before. "However, she seems functional without it. It's been a few hours now without any negative reactions, and, if anything, this is the most normal baby I've seen in years. I recommend consistent check-ups to monitor her serotonin and GABA levels."

Evias stood up sharply, back craning into position as he towered over the doctor. His hands took place in his pockets naturally, torso lifting upwards as his body stood confidently. As if he had no reason not to be. Finally showing some type of interest in the girl's life. "And I recommend that this stay between us. Right doc?" He said, plastering on his infamous, wide smile that won him elections and won the hearts of the public. This time, there was something menacing beneath it. A cruel stamp that sat in his eyes. Like a simple threat, reminding the man of the power he carried. The doctor's body hunched forward, trembling against his clipboard, while his spine bowed and neck dipped. All he did was shake his head fervently in response, and a hesitant chuckle erupted from the man's lips, followed by a charming laugh from Evias as he patted the doctor's back in nonchalance.

The new nurse scurried over to the mother's side, checking her IV, her vitals, and neurotransmitter signals on the screen. They were much higher than they should've been, spikes shooting dangerously into the top of the screen. With a simple hum, the attendant scribbled down notes before returning to Luvelle's side. "So, hun, have we thought about any names yet?" She asked genuinely, offering the restless woman a small smile and a brush of her fingers to the hair sticking to her cheek. "A-Aveline. Aveline Cress. After my mother." Luvelle whispered, aware that Evias was intolerant of Luvelle dwelling on her past life. She was with him now, and that's all she needed, right? Now she had a daughter, and she could stop worrying about silly things such as hobbies or friendship. "A child is a woman's purpose, Vellie. You will want for nothing." He said to her on the day they'd discovered her pregnancy, handing her a blue Zavirin pill in her distress. "You will want for nothing."

And that was the plan. But things don't always go as planned, especially with such an unpredictable little one. Luvelle was completely unaware that naming her baby girl was the last decision she'd ever make for herself.

Raising her baby in the quiet 'comforts' of their mansion, which had been bestowed upon them by the government due to Evias' large dedications to the city, Luvelle felt anything but comforted in her solitude. She felt herself dissolve into a gray fog of emotions, as if she were a stranger in her own body. Doctors told her it was just hormones, a woman's body struggling to regulate itself after birth. But she knew it was more than that. Her mind unraveled like a stray thread. Her clarity vanished, replaced by restless energy and dread. Incoherent babbles filled their sleeping chambers night by night, body twitching in inhuman intensity.

Three weeks had passed, and Evias grew tired of dealing with her insane ramblings. He tired of hearing his baby crying while her mother shook in the corner of her study, skin crawling with red splotches and eyes rimming with red veins. It was a cruel withdrawal that he no longer would permit. Luvelle's body erupted in hives, eyes popping from its sockets, screaming in terror as gallons of vomit and blood fell from her throat.

The man manipulated his way into the best underground facility he could find. Forcibly institutionalizing her, Luvelle wrastled and screamed, fighting back against the institution's security with an unimaginable strength for a post-partum woman. Or for any human, at that.