Chapter 6

"Though I had never met this man, I had never seen his face, heard his voice, felt his touch, I felt I had a powerful connection with him."

 

Chapter 6

     I instantly drew back from my embrace with 57 and gave the man towering behind him a quizzical look, my mouth slightly agape in surprise.

     Midnight black hair lightly showered his head. Sharp jaw and cheek angles connected to form his weathered face. Though he looked not a minute over twenty two years of age, his green eyes, the color of forest leaves after a gruesome winter storm, looked as if they had seen the world and its secrets three times over. Worn hands were cupped in front of him. A deep red line, still healing from a tendon slicing wound, was embedded like a quilt patch on his left arm. Other minor cuts accompanied the parent. Most of his weight was on his right foot, the left one obviously injured. Another sign. The ultimate marker identifying this man was a thick slash across his throat, no more than a week and a half old.

     It had to be....

“Q...” I sniffed back blotches of snot creeping down my parted lips. The thought of my meeting with the Boss was still fresh on my mind, my tears had not yet abided. “Qui...Quijano....” My stomach turned and twisted.

Though I had never met this man, I had never seen his face, heard his voice, I felt I had a powerful connection with him. To me, he was like a long lost brother I had never found.

Until now.

A quirky smile lit up his darkened face and he nodded.

My chest heaved up and down as I tried to stifle my crying hyperventilation. It felt like someone had just shot me from the inside. He couldn’t talk; I would never be able to hear his voice. Every word I spoke to him, I felt I was insulting his injury, ridiculing him.

I could not bring myself to smile back.

For me, the only sound I would hear him utter would be an imagined voice lifting, ghostlike, up from the text appearing on a computer screen.

I couldn’t help myself; a tub of water spilled over and poured out of my weary eyes. My hand came up partially to touch him. I needed to feel if he was real. I... I had to....

My lips quivered like the string of a bow after an arrow had been released. “Q-“ my voice faltered before I could finish pronouncing the letter.  Q.... My arm went down back to my sides.

Q’s smile fell somewhat, as if to say, “It’s going to be alright kiddo... Shh... Everything is going to be fine... Shh...”

I couldn’t handle all of the emotion coursing through me. Everything was compressed; past and present had crashed through each other; a sword had penetrated my shield. I realized my helpless position in this place.

The Traitors... the Crew... my dead family....

... What will happen to me?

I forced my eyes closed and attempted to take a deep breath, but all I received were short intakes through hyperventilation.

“I-... I h-have to go...” I was about to finish with, “to my cell,” but the thought of me with no family, nowhere else to go but back to that coffin-like room, started to drown me in tears. I tasted the salt through my shaking lips as my personal rain storm flew down my ashen cheeks.

I sprinted down the corridor, jumped left into the next hallway, half bumping into the wall as I did. While one hand was at my eyes, attempting to clear my eyes enough so I could navigate, the other was in front of me to prevent slamming into my cell door at the end of the hall.

As I reached my cell door, I realized that my pathetic attempt to flee my emotions and everything in the world had been thwarted by the lock on the door. My back hit the wall and I slid down to the freezing concrete floor, pulling my arms around my knees.

It was all too... just too much.

Countless times I had thought Q had died. Countless. No one knows what it is like to be left one night... left to contemplate if someone had been killed or had miraculously survived. You just want to grab time by its collar and shake it... shake it and scream to it that you can’t wait one more second....

But then... there he was... standing there in front of me... alive... trying to tell me something, but instead of not being able to find the right words, the right words could not be spoken for another soul to hear....

A familiar headache began to slither up my neck once again. I held myself, whimpering in the dark corner of the hallway, trying to wipe the tears onto the back of my already drenched hand.

Why didn’t they chase after me?

Well, it’s not like I had anywhere else to go, that second, lighter voice chimmed in. Even if I did get past all of the locked doors, overpower every guard, and manage to escape, where would- were could I go?

My bawling continued for another half a minute until I heard a set of boots meet the concrete at the end of the hall. I endeavored to suppress my barrage of tears down to a minimum. Feeling to cool solid wall against my back assisted my efforts to calm myself.

I didn’t bother to look up and see who was coming. I didn’t raise my eyes until the five beeps sounded on the electric keypad and the door had been opened.

It was 57.

I unhooked my arms from my knees and pushed myself up almost losing my bala- 57’s hand was suddenly holding my own, helping me arise from my corner.

A faint zap bounced though as our hands connected. I was instantly calm. My breathing returned to normal as our eyes met.

“Thanks,” it was no more than a sigh I let fall out of my lungs. I turned to enter my ro- his fingers clasped tighter around my own. I took a gasp of air. My body circled back to his.

His eyes, searching mine.

His chest, so close I could feel its warming heat. I was frozen as he bent down and planted a soft kiss on my forehead.

My heart and limbs trembled as he moved closer.

I closed my eyes as his sweet lips gently came to mine. All emotion that had been ripping my tears unjustly from my eyes evaporated. The only sensation remaining was a soothing comfort- and his hand moving up my back.

My heart stopped.

My stomach abruptly repulsed.

What am I doing? He’s just like the rest of them.

A killer.

A murderer.

My eyes flashed open. I jumped back. My once fluttering heart was now pounding against its cage.

57 looked down at me, confused.

I shook my head at him. All I could get out was, “I...” My brows furrowed together. I stepped behind the door and shut it, a Th-Thunk sounding as it closed.

A murderer.

It kept repeating in my head.

A murderer.

I paced the room.

Everything was so confusing. I had been stripped of all emotion. From grief to pleasure to anger, I didn’t know how to feel now.

I slid into my sleeping bag, not caring that it wasn’t the time to sleep; I was beyond tired. My eyes swung closed, the world around me disappeared.

Though the door was thick, I could still hear 57 slowly walk away, back down the hall.

A murderer.  

Author's Note

Please comment.

Reviews

[Jennifer Negri]

Interesting turn. Jenny has been very collected until this point. I'm wondering if she was ever really controlled, or just playing a part which has now been destroyed. Good use of her emotion and connecting your reader to her feelings and thoughts. It also developed her as more vulnerable, since if the previous chapters she does not seem very vulnerable.

[Minki]

Poor Jenny . . . give her a hug from me? SO MUCH EMOTION I HAVE TO TYPE IN ALL CAPS! Sadness to love to anger! Wow. Good job. Why can't a muscular, sweet murderer kiss me? I wouldn't complain. What happens now? Does she get out? Why are they keeping her alive if she knows so much? Is she going to be initiated into their organization? ARG!!

[J.M]

This was a really good chapter, and you captured how people would feel in that situation very nicely. Well done.