Intertwined: Miharu try-out

As I’ve mentioned in my co-creator post I am working on a story called Intertwined with a co-creator. She, Amy, is responsible for one of the main characters. We’re kind of having a hard time to try to fit her into the story. I’m too afraid to mix things up and change her whole personality. I have promised Amy that I would write from her perspective, so here’s a little something I tried. I won’t say I’ve succeeded, since this heavily relies on Shogo’s storyline, but I’m proud of it nevertheless. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to post this, but I’m just really looking for some feedback on this one. Is it any good?

The woman sits strapped in the chair. Her eyes are placed on the cameras that zoom in to her every movement. She licks her lips and smirks. Men with masks try to calm her down with needles. Or women. Maybe there are also women. Their white attire blends in perfectly with the entire wall of white light behind them. Where have I seen that before?

A mother holds her hand before her child’s eyes. I wish she could shield mine. I see him standing amongst them. A pink-haired girl clings onto him, but he has no attention for her. He looks straight at the screen, while clenching his fists. The woman seems to stare right back at him.

The white figures leave the room. Someone pushes a button. It’s not red, but green. An invisible toxic starts to creep up to the woman, just as she did to all her victims. The women starts to laugh hysterically and spasm in her chair. Digital numbers appear on the white wall. They are counting down. Only sixty seconds to go. Forty. Twenty. Then it happens. As she breathes out her last breath all the screens fade to black. But it isn’t over. He knows it and I know it. The white figures appear again.
“Is her heart still beating?” whispers a man that couldn’t have been older than twenty. He doesn’t dare look at the corpse.
The other man leans into her chest and checks. Nothing.
“No, she’s-“
The younger boy gasps.
There is a hand around the older man’s neck.
“Hello, there”, the woman says in a raspy voice.

I hear heavy breathing. It takes me seconds to find out it is my own. I look up and see the wooden ceiling. Quickly a little owlet appears before my eyes. I smile.
“Hello, Shannan.”
The owl pecks lovingly at my head. Then he hops on over to my nest of red curls, where he decides to make himself comfortable.
“I’m okay. I’m sorry if I worried you.”
He doesn’t need to say it. I know it’s okay.
“I hope Shogo is alright.” The words escape my mouth before I can hold them back.
What am I saying? Shogo told me not to worry about him, so I can’t.
“Should I call him?” I stutter.
Shannan makes a sound.
“You’re right”, I mumble. We don’t really talk much. He’ll really think I’m weird if I call him now. But I know that look of his. Something is off.
“I wish I could still believe it’s all just a dream”, I whisper. More words that I didn’t mean to say out loud.
“I know”, Shannan whispers.
We both know that somewhere in Kurogane a woman that was executed on live television is somehow still alive right now. Or at least… she’s still moving.
“All those people”, I let out.
I try not to think of all the thoughts. All the pain, all the fear, all the relief when it’s over. But it’s not over.
I pick Shannan up and hold him in a cup of my hand. I sit up and hold my hands close to me. I try to hold back all the tears, but there is something that has to keep me from bottling up all of their emotions.
“It’s okay. We’re safe”, Shannan tries to reassure me.
I can only nod.
“But they’re not.”

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