Becoming Read Online Free Page A

on the fringes, much like Gaia, respected for his skill, but not courted. There was a mystery, something compelling, and for some reason Gaia had been drawn to him. There was a story with Aran, something more. He intrigued her, made her want to find out more.
    Aran and Gaia rested for a while, drifting in the comedown, the aftermath. The community would regroup soon and consider the attack together, looking at lessons for the next time. The rats would return, and the community must be ready.
     

 
    3
     
     
    Gaia lay in her bed staring at the base of the bunk above. The wire supports stretched across the metal frame bulged and creaked. She had looked at them a thousand times, studied every detail, reached up and traced the weaving line as it spread across the divide. Hooking her fingers under each, Gaia would allow the wire to take the weight of her arm. She had threaded string through to create ornate patterns, turning the cold, grey metalwork into a sea of colour, like an exotic snake. This was her nightly view, her routine and shell. This was Gaia’s moment alone, her time to think.
    It was a large dormitory with twenty bunks, filled with thirty nine girls. The room was dark and silent, oozing a damp and musty odour. The building was made of timber, and had a varnished, wooden floor and high pitched ceiling. Each bed had a table next to it and a wardrobe at its base. Clothes and belongings were few, so their was ample room for storage. The dorm had been an outward bound centre in the old days. The island was popular with holiday makers. They would come in organised packs, tribes of young people in uniforms and ties, singing bizarre songs, and performing strange rituals. Gaia had found a magazine behind one of the wardrobes and read about the world before, the now lost and distant past. The dorm had toilets and shower rooms at one end. At the other was a doorway to the entrance hall, and a room where the leader slept.
    Gaia was having trouble sleeping. This was not unusual. Her mind would not shut down, often bursting alive in the last few hours of the day. In that time just before sleeping when you are meant to unwind, a charge would shoot through her, like an electric current. Thoughts would race through her head, pounding from all angles. She would try and catch them, order and contain them, make some sense of them. Sometimes there would be moments of perfect clarity, where the light would blaze, and everything would slot into place. Those rarest of moments when everything would make sense. More often there would be the demons and darkness, the anger and hatred, the hunger and thirst for revenge. There were often thoughts of conflict, a longing to strike out against those that wronged, controlled, and oppressed her. Gaia longed to destroy the ones that prevented her from breaking free. There were often visions of the pain she would bring upon those who stopped her from finding herself, and the parents never known. She often thought of killing.
    Most of the mental venom was thrust towards Kali. The one that pushed her, ordered her, commanded her, dictated to her, and abused her. It was often the smallest of things, the looks, the things said and even unsaid, the body language. Gaia knew Kali hated her, and always had to put in extra effort to impress her, never managing to. At least Kali never acknowledged it. The day the rats attacked, Gaia had killed far more than the others, and had saved Aran from certain injury and possible death. She had fought as hard as ever, maybe harder. Kali wandered around in the aftermath, and laid reassuring hands on weary heads and shoulders. There were whispered words of comfort, and thanks. Yet when Kali came to Gaia all she could ask was what had happened with the young girl, the one who Gaia had allowed to die.
    Gaia explained everything, but it was not enough for Kali who moved on. There was no comfort or reassurance, no thanks or commendation for the bravery Gaia had shown. All