No Place

TW: Death, suicide

This is no place for the weak.

This is no place for the cowardly.

This is no place to be taken for granted.

These rules have been engraved in my mind for as long as I can remember. Over and over and over again. It’s the first thing I hear when I wake up, the last thing I hear before my eyes wear out.

This is no place for the weak.

This is no place for the cowardly.

This is no place to be taken for granted.

I’m surprised I’m still alive. How am I still alive? Most children are thrown into the lake at birth, when the elders find them weak. They seem to have mostly guessed correctly. My bunkmates are all at least twice my size. They spear the training dummies so fast, not caring about the blood pouring out as they go from one to the next. When I spear one of the dummies and the red, iron-smelling liquid squirts in my face, I’m momentarily blinded, looking away, not trying to imagine the life within the wooden soul.

We don’t care about others here. We don’t long for sunlight on our faces, or gasp for precious breaths of fresh air. Should we ever leave this cave, we’ll be heading into battle. Or possibly marching up to the freezing lake Hecate, to get pushed into a chilling death. 

“Think of the monsters,” Trainer instructs us as we draw our arrows back. “Picture their faces on the targets. Aim for the eyes. Do not miss this chance.”

I will not miss this chance, I think to myself. I will prove myself.

The arrow flies out and hits the monster’s forehead. More than half of my classmates hit their monster in the eyes, but a forehead is acceptable.

“Those of you who successfully hit the monster’s eyes can now retrieve their arrows and step back,” Trainer says. “If you did not succeed, you have two more chances to redeem yourself. Fail, and you will have proven yourself weak.”

I shiver, knowing what “weak” entails.

I pick up a second arrow and string it onto my raggedy bow. I must resist the urge to tremble. Trembling would be my death.

“Draw your arrows back,” Trainer instructs. “Hit it between the eyes.”

I line my arrow up perfectly with the monster’s eyes. I smile. There’s no way I can’t miss this shot.

Right as I fire, though, a kid pounces on my shoulders. “Weak,” he snarls at me. He puts me so off-balance that my arrow doesn’t even hit the monster at all.

My shoulder is definitely bruised, but I must ignore it. If I miss this last shot, then… well…

I try not to think of the consequences.

I look down the archery range. Just about everyone who was left after the first shot had successfully hit their dummies in the eyes this time. There are only two other kids who aren’t retrieving their arrows.

Glancing around, I notice that almost everyone is filing out of the archery range, just leaving Trainer with the remaining three of us. That’s good, I think. No one to disturb my final shot.

This is it. Life or death. As I slide my final arrow into the bow and pull it back, I can’t help but feel a trembling sensation going through my body.

I’ll need to shoot anyway.

Closing one eye, I try to line the bow up perfectly. This is definitely it. I can do this.

As I release the arrow, it rockets ahead of me and nails the monster between the eyes.

I heave the deepest sigh of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever come this close to becoming a sacrifice. I may be underreacting. But I have learned to live with this fear, this shadow hanging over me.

I look down the archery range. Two of the three arrows are smack-dab between the eyes of a monster. One, however, skimmed right off, hitting the monster closer to the ear.

I see who it was. It’s a kid I’ve kinda known. I’ve been grouped with him a lot. He is staring at that arrow, that one little practice arrow. It looks as though the feathers on the end are winking at him. He stares, and stares, and stares. Not doing or saying anything. 

“Weak,” Trainer snarls, striding to this boy. “We do not have room for the weak ones here. Come.”

The boy follows Trainer out of the range, exiting on shaky legs. He knows his fate. Everyone knows it.

This is no place for resting.

This is no place to let loose.

This is a place for fighting.

We don’t use names here. Why should we? No one talks to each other. The Trainers always act like they don’t remember us. But I remember everyone- I know everyone. How could I not, after fifteen years with the exact same fifty people? At least, it started at fifty- now it’s more like twenty-five. I know the kid with the dark hair, the green eyes, who always puts more weight on his left foot than his right. That’s kind of weird to me. Is his right foot damaged or wounded or something along those lines? Why haven’t the Healers fixed it? 

Then there’s also the kid who sleeps across from me. Hulking size over me, a faint scar on his right cheek that I do not know the origin of. Based on his appearance, I would’ve thought of him as the most intimidating kid in the group. But when everybody else is asleep, I can hear him 

whispering, get me out of here. I don’t know how much longer I can take this.

I’m too sensitive. I know it. I should be rock solid, like the other boys. Unbudgeable. They could face a thousand monsters without panicking, and then proceed to slay them all without a twinge of guilt. I could barely watch as that one kid followed Trainer out of the miserable archery range. 

I always thought I was the only one who cared about seeing the sun, the only one who wanted a breath of fresh air. But then I started hearing that kid whispering in the middle of the night. Maybe we could be… I don’t know. Paired up, but by ourselves instead of assigned by Trainer? I don’t know how to put anything like that into words.

The sacrifice ceremony is held three days later. It seems extra cruel to give someone so long to think of their fate, obsess over it. That, in my opinion, is the part of the sacrificing that truly makes me shiver.

None of us are invited, of course. We would never be let above ground, where we could so easily run off. But the Trainers go, meaning that we are alone in our cave.

We’re all supposed to be practicing our hand to hand combat, punching the training dummies in their throats. Most people are. Whisper-boy is hitting as hard as he can. But I’m sitting aside, on my mattress. 

I know what my purpose is- to go to war. This is what the Trainers have been doing- building an army. Sometime in the next few years, we will be sent, above ground for the first time, to fight the monsters. We’ve all been training our entire lives for this- there’s no way we can’t win. And when we do, we go on to successful careers, making weapons or becoming Trainers. But I don't want to fight to the death. I'm scared, sure, but I just don't see the point in fighting this endless war. Why exchange bloodshed for bloodshed, with no end result or reward?

I have a plan, have had one since I was ten years old. I will hold on until we’re sent out, passing just above the surface. Then, when we’re on the battlefield, I will run, dashing towards a normal life without blood or brutality. I don’t want to die, that’s for sure. But I especially don’t want to kill one of the monsters. I don’t get what’s wrong with them. They seem just like us. Why should we be killing them?

I look around the cave. I wonder if all of these kids have these kinds of thoughts. I doubt it, since no one’s ever run away. 

Does that mean I can’t?

I don’t even know if I can make it another year. That archery test just proved it- I’m one of the next to go. Would it be best if I left now?

And why not now? There aren’t any Trainers here- it would be so easy to sneak away. But I’d have to hatch a plan- quickly.

I ease along the walls of the cave, the cave way too small for twenty-five kids punching the walls. No one’s looking my way- that’s a good sign.

I think about packing something. But what is there to pack? I don’t have any belongings or momentos. No, if I’m bringing anything, it will be for my survival.

My crossbow. That I absolutely must bring with me. My knife, too. I start digging through my weapons, leaving some in my satchel, and setting others aside forever. My hands brush up against every sword, every spear that I put away. It’s like I’ve grown up with these weapons. But now I will not touch them again.

With my chosen weapons slung along my shoulder, I inch out of the cave. I take one last look at all of the people here, all of these lives that are meant for fighting, not living.

I shake my head. I must not get emotional about this.

I start to walk along the corridor. It’s dark as the Underworld without any torchlight to guide me through it. I keep a hand along the wall, the plan racing through my mind.

I know that I will soon come upon the training grounds- the spear-throwing cave, the archery range. This will be vital to my plan. If I were to just walk along the corridor, then I would pass the Trainers as they came back from the ceremony. I must slip inside the training grounds, let them pass me, and then continue on.

When the corridor wall starts to curve, I know I am here. The training grounds. I turn right, into the spear-throwing cave. I make sure to stay in the center of the room, away from the racks of deadly points lining the wall.

Now I must wait. 

But I’m not able to wait long before I hear it.

“Weak.”

A kid pounces on my shoulders. I can’t make out who it is, but I don’t think it matters. The outcome is one and the same. I’ve been caught.

“What were you trying to do?” the kid asks me. “Escape?”

“I- I-”

“The Trainers will be happy with us when we hand you over,” he says. “You gonna act all smart now? Everyone else is right outside this door. You can’t get away from this.”

He is right. I can’t. 

I hear some scuffling outside, some raised voices. I see the glint of torches.

“Oh,” the kid says. “It looks like the Trainers are here.”

Indeed they are. They storm into the room, staring right at me, torches illuminating their faces.

“You tried to escape,” Archery Trainer sneers. “Don’t you think anyone’s tried that before?”

“I didn’t-”

“All of your comrades told us,” says Knife Trainer. “Come with us. You will be issued three-day solitary confinement before your ceremony.”

Ceremony. Of course, a ceremony. What was I expecting? Did I ever really think I could get away with this?

But the thing that’s truly haunting me as I walk out of the room is the thought racing through my mind.

I do not regret this.

This is no place for the weak.

This is no place for the cowardly.

This is no place to be taken for granted.

I can never escape these rules, can I? No one can. Escaping these rules would mean consequences.

I do not look at the lake behind me. I can’t force myself to. Instead, I’m facing the Trainers as I back up, surely getting closer and closer to the edge of the cliff.

What was the point in staying, the point in playing it safe? Would I ever lead a true life, free of weapons and bloodshed? Why not just quit while I am ahead?

At least this way, I get to see the sun. 

It is shining over me, brighter than I could have ever imagined. My eyes are burning, but I won’t stop looking at it. I’ve learned how it gives light and warmth to the entire solar system. But it seems… small. Too small to carry out such a big job. I am small too. Maybe if I were believed in, given a chance to shine, I could have done something just as big.

Sol. That will be my name, in these final moments of my life. It reminds me of the sun, what I could do if I could spread my wings, in that twinge of hope that has guided me for these past fifteen years.

I know the edge is almost upon me. I think of that kid, the one who whispers in the middle of the night. Get me out of here. Get me out of here. This can’t be the only way, can it? Up on this grassy meadow of death, about to fall into a lake littered with the weak?

Waves are splashing below me, the icy ripples of Lake Hecate. I start trembling now. This is really the end. I can’t-

This is no place for the weak.

This is no place for the cowardly.

This is no place to be taken for granted