Genesis ➳ Bellamy

1. The Day Stars Fell

"The sky breaks

Light reaches for me

The future waits

Oh, it's calling

My Genesis

This is where it all begins."

The first and last thing Atlas Arkinson thought before being locked up was how she was a criminal. Had she broken the law? Certainly. Would she do it again? In a heartbeat. The girl she saved had been malnourished, beaten and was dying from an infection when she was brought, strapped to a gurney to the Medical Station. 

Atlas didn't even bat an eye; she jumped at the chance to save the girls life without getting her mentor or best friend involved. She might have been arrogant, an emotion she only ever felt when working with the sick or hurt but it didn't change the facts. The girl would live, locked up until she turned eighteen, but she would live to argue for her life. 

As Atlas was being escorted to the skybox, the following afternoon, she kept her chin raised. She wasn't a criminal, not in the traditional sense. She had saved someone and if she was to be floated upon turning eighteen, then she'd die knowing she did something right.

Or at least. These were the first thoughts and feelings she had when she was shoved into the drab, cool cement room. The first month she kept firm of her belief. By the time a year had passed and she was seventeen, she was fairly certain she was a moron. Who was she to take life into her own hands? 

To think she was above the law and could do as she pleased? Being in a confined room for a year tended to make even the sanest and just person question not only their sanity but their motives that landed them in such a position. 

Atlas was no better, some days she praised herself for remaining human and doing the right thing. Other days she wanted to bash her head against the wall because she was exactly what her mother said she'd be: weak.

No longer did the thought of her mother enter her mind did she smack herself in the forehead with her book. It was the only pastime she was allowed, the only thing that kept her sane. The Hobbit. It was a book her grandfather read to her father and her father read to her. 

It brought her comfort and solace. It was all that remained of her father, all because of her mother. Her thoughts threatened to run rampant, diving down the rabbit hole of her mind. She wanted desperately to not remember and that was why she resorted to standing from the dingy bed. 

Her joints popped from how long she had kept them bent and in the same position for hours on end. She tossed the worn copy onto the mattress and paced.

Pacing helped. Not that she could pace for very long. Even with the technological advances of what was left of the human race, a cure for asthma was never found. And for Atlas, she was unfortunate enough to be the only person she knew who had it. Then again, her family name was marred with tragedy. 

Success followed by tragedy, the Arkinson name was nothing short of a running joke. From the first to engineer a way for the Ark to be created to the first to be floated, her legacy was tragic. There wasn't any other word for it, which led to her grandfather coining their family motto.

 'We are tragically hopeful, we are Arkinson.' Atlas had scrawled the motto all along the walls of her cell. If she closed her eyes long enough she could hear his gruff voice telling and demanding she never forget it. She had promised and still kept true to her word.