Chapter Text
It has been three weeks since we started orbiting Erid. It took god knows how long to get here. I had stopped counting after the third Earth year. My brain has been foggier and foggier, almost as bad as when I first woke up from my coma. Sometimes I wake up screaming, confused, and scared, which really freaks Rocky out. The confusion seems to subside after a while as I remember the basics of my life, but the fear never leaves me. My name is Grace (although I know it is not my given name; I'm not sure what my given name is, and I am only ever called “Grace”). I was sent to space on a suicide mission, but I survived, and now I’m dying again. I think I can be forgiven for being afraid, this being my life. At least I know who I am, where I am, and why I am here. That's… not much, but it's better than nothing.
My days mostly consist of being force-fed taumoeba and expelling said taumoeba. It tastes like car tires and moldy fruit, and refuses to stay in my stomach. As soon as I taste the stuff, I start wretching, so I've taken to using a syringe to shoot it directly into the back of my throat to avoid the taste as much as possible, but it always ends up creeping in, and I have to fight to keep the food down. If I don’t keep it down, I have to eat more in order to fill my stomach, beginning the cycle over again. Some days, I try to refuse food altogether, as water is much easier for my body to keep down. “Stupid. Need sustenance.” I am told any time I try to resist meals, and then they are shoved down my throat by Armando, under the command of my alien companion. Once I have eaten and managed to keep it down, I am finally allowed to sleep, under careful supervision.
This is my life now. Eat, puke, sleep, and occasionally use the bathroom. I have tried to maintain some semblance of privacy during those times, but Rocky has taken to watching over me constantly. I know he can see me wherever I am on the ship, but lately it seems like he wants to crawl inside my skin to be as close as possible. I strung up a bed sheet vaguely covering the area where the wall-toilet sits, and I made Rocky sit on the opposite side, for my own comfort. I think he’s worried that if he's not constantly by my side, I’ll die, which might be true. I know there’s a gun and enough heroin on this ship to kill me three times over. I’m not sure how I know that; they must have belonged to my crewmates, but I can’t even remember my crewmates’ names.
I have tried to discuss euthanasia with Rocky, but he won’t hear it. Even though he’s so close to home, he refuses to leave the ship without me. He’s made contact with Eridian scientists and leaders, and supposedly, they’ll find a way for me not to starve to death or die in their atmosphere. I don’t really care what progress is being made; it's happening too slowly. All I know is that I am in pain and I want the pain to end. “Friend Grace live. Friend Grace safe now.” Rocky tells me, and I desperately want to believe him, to cling to hope. I can’t. No matter how much I try, I can't see a future for myself outside of dying on this ship. I wonder if Rocky will go home if I die. He can take me with him and bury me on Erid; there's no need to worry about my survival or leaving me behind.
Death is the only thing I can think about most of the time. My head is either completely empty or swimming with thoughts on how I can kill myself without being stopped. It occurs to me that I used to be chatty, and Rocky used to get annoyed with my yammering when he was working on something important. Now, I'm the one getting annoyed with him. His words always invade my thoughts, leaving no time for peace. “Grace eat,” “Grace drink,” “Grace toilet,” “Grace sleep” is all I hear every day of my life. He's so bossy. Occasionally, I consider turning off the computer that translates his speech into English, so that I can only hear the music that is his speech, instead of listening to his beratement. Can't he see that I'm busy? But I guess he can't. I don't look busy. I look like I'm lying in bed staring at the walls, my only movement being the constant trembling that I can't seem to get to go away, no matter how hard I try. Oh yeah, that's another thing that annoys me. My body seems to be giving up on itself; all it wants to do is shake until I force it to do something else. I know that Rocky should be getting tired soon; he has been refusing to sleep in order to keep watch over me, and I know it’s only a matter of time until his body gives out on him, which is when I can make my move. I’ll need to decide whether to shoot myself or overdose before he falls asleep.