Three

Please read and review :)

Her dream is one of those ones that feels like a prophecy, rather than just a figment of her imagination. It starts in a cemetery. She sees herself, standing in front of a grave, crying. The sobs echo around in her mind, like a terrible song that just goes on and on and on. She’s scared. No matter how much she squints, she can’t make out the name on the grave. It’s like someone with a magic marker has purposefully marched into her dream and blurred out parts, just to keep her guessing. Then, suddenly, the scene changes. The cemetery’s there again. The same dead grass, the same ugly tree, the same dark sky. It’s the kind of setting where she knows something ominous is in the air. Everything’s the same, but she’s not there anymore. There’s someone else standing there, with their back to her. From what she can tell, it looks like a man. She can’t be sure, but she doesn’t think she knows him. He is standing in front of a grave, crying, just like she was before. And, once again, the name on the grave is unrecognisable. She is starting to really hate that person with the magic marker. And then, all of a sudden, she is awake.

 

She’s in a small room that smells like cinnamon and gunpowder. There are shelves lined up against the walls, full of various provisions. There is no furniture, and the floor is hard and cold- concrete, she realises, blinking. What a strange place, Kiana thinks. What am I doing here? Then it all comes flooding back: the Prime Minister, the almost-execution, the British men in helicopters, the Law Enforcement Minister with the handcuffs, the man with the syringe… Her head is over-flowing with thoughts… What is going on?! The door flies open, and there is a man in a blue and red uniform. He stands with his feet wide-apart and his shoulders broad. A fighting man. His face is clean-shaven, his nose slightly hooked, but the most captivating feature is his eyes. Blue, with a touch of green, and long lashes. They seem familiar. But it’s his voice that finally gives him away.

“Morning, kiddo,” he says softly. His voice is kind, with a strong Liverpool accent, rough but somehow soothing. The man with the syringe, Kiana recalls.

“Where I am? What am I doing here?” she demands, standing up and approaching the door. The man holds up a finger to silence her and retreats a few steps, closing the door further.

“Don’t come any closer. And keep your voice down. Look, it’s for your own good, alright? You’re not supposed to be here. If they find out I brought you over, they’ll murder us both.” He looks genuinely concerned, which scares Kiana even more.

“Can you at least tell me where I am?” she asks quietly, her voice pleading. The man is clearly torn. He glances behind him quickly, then leans in.

“Kiddo, you’re in London.” The door slams shut. Kiana hears him on the other side of the door, calling, “No brown sugar in there!” Other voices answer, but they’re too far away and she can’t make out the words.

 

She flops back against the shelves and tries to sleep. Why I am I in London? How did I get here? Who are these people? These thoughts race through her mind and she suddenly feels dizzy. Sleep is impossible. The floor is uncomfortable, and the stuffy air makes it hard to breathe. She’s not sure which is worse- her cell back in Canberra, or this tiny storage room. And she keeps returning to the thought of her brother. Where he is, how he’s doing… They have been living alone for years now, her and Felix. He had dropped out of high school and got a job to support Kiana. She was just thirteen at the time. Now, three years on, she’s half a world away, in some dingy storage room in London, and Felix is… well, who knows? She hopes to God he’s alright. He’s the only person that truly matters to her and she couldn’t bear it if he were gone.

 

It is an hour before the Liverpool man reappears, carrying a tray with some food and water. He sets it down in front of Kiana, shuts the door behind him and looks her in the eye.

“You must be hungry. Eat,” he says, pushing the tray closer to her. She shakes her head.

“Not until you explain what the hell I’m doing here,” she replies, her voice surprisingly steady. “I’ve gone from one prison to another and you took me away from my home, and my family!”

“What kind of home was it, Kiana? I saw it only once, and it made me sick,” he tells her, shuddering at the memory. “And as for your family, does it even exist? I’ve heard a lot about you, Kiana. All you have is a coke-snorting lunatic, not a family.” That strikes a nerve, and Kiana hates that he knows so much about her, and she doesn’t even know his name.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” she snaps.

“Maybe so, but I don’t you think you ever had a home.” He pauses for a second. “Kiana, I’m Lieutenant Chandler Darrel, and I’m sorry about all of this.”