This was supposed to be a place of peace, a place of learning and practicing the ways of pleasure and companionship. This was not a hospital, not a place of pain of suffering... or.. it wasn’t, until the war came. It was supposed to pass us by, the fighting expected to occur on the main planet nearby, leaving us virtually unscathed. That was why we didn’t abandon the place and head to the core. It was supposed to be safe.

Najii closed the door behind her, leaning against it, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. The hands that pressed against the intricately carved and meticulously oiled door were wet and shiny with grisly red paint – fresh blood, dark and messy. Her eyes were squeezed shut, makeup smeared by tears. The cool night air greeted her, but she couldn’t quite shut out the noise from inside, the groans and moans and occasional screams of pain.

Her breathing slowed, and she opened her eyes, moving across the small walkway to the railing. The valley stretched out, far below, and at the furthest edge, she could see the flashes of light, hear the booms. People were fighting and dying only miles away. She dropped her eyes to her hands. He had been so young – younger even than she was, and she was quite young, herself. In the dim light, her eyes appeared nearly all white, like crystal. She stared at her hands, at the blood, but only saw the wreckage of the poor boy’s body. She’d been visiting with some of the boys, trying to bring some vague bit of comfort, when they’d brought the boy in, moaning and bleeding. The doctor, in a rush, had shouted at her, demanding she assist him.

There was no hope. She did what she could, feeling the life slip from his body and knowing she could do nothing. The doctor yelled at her throughout, blaming her for her uselessness. When the boy had finally died, he'd snarled at her to go, to get away and stay away from his patients. She’d gone, running headlong, crying silently. Now she went along the walkway, finding her way to her "room" – once a simple privacy a