Shepard

(Sorry everyone! This isn't a poem, it's just the only way I can share something I wrote on facebook as I am not that good with computers. Again, I am sorry!)

Commander's Log 2186

I'm Commander Victoria Shepard. I command the Normandy SR-2 with a multi-species crew. The Reapers have arrived, and it is up to me to get all the species to work together. We won't survive otherwise.
But this isn't why I started this journal. My therapist, Ilia, an asari, told me that I should write down what has happened to me. She claims it will help me heal. Ilia is dead now. She must be, the initial attack on Earth was so brutal. But I must try to get better, if only for her. And Garrus. I have to get better for him.
Ilia told me to start at the very beginning, so I guess I will. I was born on April 11th, 2154 on the planet Mindoir. My parents, Liza and Mark Shepard, were farmers, like nearly everyone else in our colony. I grew up helping out best I could, when my mother could get my head out of the books. I read everything I could get my hands on.
Nothing really happened until I was sixteen, when Mindoir was attacked by batarian slavers. I still dream about it. Ilia said I have to write it all down. Every single horrid detail. 2170 will always be a black year.
I was a freckly brown-haired girl with my father's brown eyes, every inch of a gangly teenager. That day didn't start any differently than usual. I had woken up early to sneak off behind the orchard and read, I just found another book buried in a box full of parents' belongings from Earth. Poe's Short Stories. I had begun to read The Masque of the Red Death when I heard the screaming. I dropped the book and began running.
The scene that greeted me was horrific. Batarians were incinerating people, my friends, my family. I saw my friend Mealine go up in flames when she resisted. I don't know how, but I ended up at my home, searching frantically for my parents. I found my father's body in the bedroom, a bullet through his forehead. I still see it in my dreams, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. His blood soaked through my pants. I think I was shaking when I closed his eyes, but they wouldn't stay. They kept popping open. I choked back a sob, and ran out of the house, dripping with my father's blood. Instinct took over and I wedged myself under our pre-fab. The ground had crumbled and given way, leaving a small gap. I could wait here, wait until help came. But where would the help come from? And how long would it take? Our entire colony was being attacked, and I didn't know how to contact the Alliance.
I had crawled almost completely under the pre-fab when something grabbed me and pulled me out. I clawed desperately at the ground, trying to break free. A batarian loomed over me, holding a weapon unknown to me. He shouted something, I don't remember what. I began to thrash and scream wildly, kicking myself out of his grip. He lifted the weapon as I scrambled to my feet. I don't know what had come over me, but I leapt at him, scratching his face, feeling contact with his eyes. He yelled and set off the weapon. Flame spurted from it, inches away from my flailing arms. I clawed his face until he was hunched over, blinded in two of his eyes. I ran then.
I flew back into our home, past my father's body. I slipped a little on his blood as I dug through the drawers of the wardrobe. I was looking for the heavy pistol that my parents had kept, "just in case." My hand bumped something hard and I wrapped my hand around the handle. It was loaded with a few thermal clips. The gun felt foreign in my hand, and I didn't know how to handle it. While trying to pull it from the drawer, it went off. Shot through the wardrobe and lodged in the wall. Terrified that the shot would alert the batarians, I shot out of the back door. The batarian who had grabbed me was still hunched over. In a panic, I lifted the pistol and fired. I fired until the gun was almost empty. By the time I was done, he was a bloody mess riddled with holes. I screamed at him while I fired. Cursed him for what he did, for my father's death, for Melanie. For everyone. When I was done, I made my way to orchard, and climbed one of the trees, tucking the gun into the waistband of my pants. I don't know how long I waited there. It could've been days for all I know. When I saw the Alliance cruiser landing in an open field a few miles away, I was too terrified to move. I think it was a few hours before the marines made it to the orchard. I drew the gun with a shaky hand, determined to not be taken. One of the marines saw me perched in the tree, and called to his fellows.
"S-stop!" I screamed at them, the gun wavering between the three of them that approached.
"Holy shit, it's a kid," I heard one of them say. He motioned to the others to stay back and removed his weapons. He approached me slowly, hands out. "Calm down, we aren't going to hurt you. Just come out of the tree and put the gun down."
I shook my head frantically. They were going to take me to wherever the batarians had taken my mother and the rest of the colony. "No!" My hand steadied for a moment before the weight became too much and the pistol dropped to the ground. I must have emptied the clip because it didn't go off when it hit. My mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments before I began to sob. I slid out of the apple tree, hitting the ground with a soft fwump. The marine, who I now saw was in his mid-twenties, crouched next to me
"Hey kid," he said gently "What's your name?"
"V-Victoria." I hiccupped, my head pounding. I also realized that my ankle was throbbing.
"I'm Major Brown. Are you hurt, Victoria?"
I shrugged. Who cared if I was hurt? Everyone was dead. Dead or gone. And I was all alone except for these strangers. I touched my face and felt something flaky. After scratching to remove some it, I saw dried blood encrusted under my fingernails. I didn't know whose it was- my father's, the batarian I had killed. It could've been my own for all I knew. I began to cry even harder. Why hadn't I died with my father?
"Kid, you gotta get up. We need to get you to the med bay." Major Brown stared at me, his hazel eyes concerned. I didn't understand. Med bay? There wasn't a med bay in the colony. We had one doctor, Constance Yung. She ran a clinic out of her pre-fab, administering medications when necessary. Was she dead too? Taken? Maybe she was still alive; maybe my mother was with her.
"Do you mean Constance?" I asked, hoping against hope that someone was still here. That I wasn't all alone. "Her clinic is over towards the northern edge of the colony." I pointed with a blood-stained hand. The look the major gave me told me everything. "I. . . I can't be the only one left!" I wailed in terror, jerking back from this stranger. I was dreaming, I told myself. Any minute now and I am going to wake up in the orchard with my book, hearing my mother call for me.