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The florescent glow of the television Was the only light in the room. It cascaded a visor-bleeding light blue over the piles of trash and various items strewn about on the floor of Purple’s apartment. They weren’t really paying attention to the tv. They just never turned it off. They barely got out of bed some days, so why bother? The background noise offered some peace and consistency to their life.
Things had been very different since the reactor incident. Of course they would be. Their colony was destroyed, their only friend— the crewmate they really thought was the love of their life— had left them to rot.
Literally.
They smelled of blood and unwashed clothes, their hair was greasy and clung uncomfortably to their scalp. Fresh scarring covered their arms and dried up blood stuck to their couch.
They haven't had a shower in a while, couldn’t name the last time they’d washed their clothes— and wound care was nonexistent. Sometimes cuts would heal into their sleeves and they would have to rip the scabs off with their hood.
Purple had barely eaten enough to keep themself alive. They could feel their ribs and still felt like the ugliest fatass in the world.
They honestly looked forward to death.
The television caught their attention when a missing person’s poster was flashed on the screen.
The name read as Violet. Went missing as a teenager, so says the age section stating they’d be in their early twenties by now.
Beside the text on screen was a picture of a young Crewmate with long hair that was tied back in a low pony tail that made the roundness of their face stand out. They seemed of an average weight, but Purple couldn’t help but make a disgusted face.
It was a picture of themself from their intern years. How long had they been considered missing? Who knows. Who cared?
Actually, that was a good question. Red didn’t file the report, They didn’t know Purple’s name had been Violet.
Maybe their parents? No. God, no. They wouldn’t, Purple was certain of it.
They gave a small huff of amusement at the thought.
Then who?
Maybe a sibling. Their brother would’ve.
It made them sick.
Purple’s phone lit up on the table in front of the couch.
They didn’t move to grab it, though.
They couldn’t.
It was probably just spam.
They did lean over to grab the remote to the tv, though, turning it off with a quick click of a button, before turning over on the couch and nestling under their blanket more.
It was probably an old poster recirculating or something.
Even if it wasn’t, they knew no one would actually look.