One Minute

Chapter Sixteen- 48 Hours

The sun hid behind ominous storm clouds as I walked out and back to my room. I couldn’t stand to stare at anybody—not without showing them the tears in my eyes. The only person I could watch was you as I stepped down the platform. Your eyes locked with mine for a second and I could see my sadness reflected off of them. Tearing my gaze away painfully from yours, I walked back with Nikolay and Eric back to my residency.

            My chains began to get harder and harder to walk in, and so Nikolay carried me the rest of the way after I had scraped my knees on the cobblestone. I looked up at him before down at my wrists, sniffling, cheeks growing moist as the salty tears trickled down my face.

            “What are they going to do to me…?” I looked back up at Nikolay, who refused to look at me.

Eric adjusted his shades and fixed his collar before speaking, voice a little hoarse, “They take you down to the basement where it’s pretty much empty and it’s as cold as the North Pole with so many cameras that there’s no blind spot. Down there, you’re pretty much hung by your wrists so that you can be hanging or on the ground—depending on where they decide to adjust the chain. Then Roivas has to tears your clothes off with his blade and rape you with this special type of toy—I can’t really describe it to you because I haven’t seen it. But, from what I’ve heard, it’s supposed to attach to his… yeah… and then once he’s penetrated you, some sort of razor’s supposed to come out? And so practically while you’re being tortured internally, the Cadre will come in and they stone you to death. It’s a slow and painful death—we haven’t done it yet, but other clans have, and many people have to take a week off because they become so sick from watching it.”

My eyes widened and I began to shake. Nikolay held me a little closer to him, trying to calm me as Eric opened the door. Nikolay set me down on the bed and Eric bent down to take the shackles off of me. My hair was all tangled up and my body was shaking. I reached out to hug Eric tightly. He froze.

“What are you doing?” He stammered.

“Thank you… for everything.” I let go of him and hugged Nikolay next. Nikolay sniffled and hugged me back tight. I could tell that Nikolay was a very sensitive guy, despite the fact that he was an assassin.

Letting go of one another, I smiled at both of them to let them know that I would be okay. They both tried to smile back at me, but we all knew my fate. We were all clearly aware that I was going to die in two days.

I remained in my room for the rest of the day and the day after that, only getting up to get water and to go pee. Only on the second day did I shower.

The whole time I was alone I laid down on the cold, oak floor, staring at a blank white ceiling. I watched the fan spin in slow cycles, dark, Nestlé chocolate powder colored eyes following the fan in its clockwise motion. I could have done this for hours, laying down on my bed, purple comforter out of place, hair splayed upon the mattress, laying in a supine position with my legs slightly tucked in close to my bottom, fingers caressing my stuffed lion Rey, who rested upon my stomach. Dubstep music would play loudly on my Beats until all the sounds were drowned out and I was riding on waves of sound, trying to forget about it all. But that never seemed to work because of you.

I thought about you a lot—I thought about what you might be thinking. I wanted to think about you all day—but something tried to push you away. I was hurting, badly. Oh how you made my heart ache, as if I was being stabbed by millions of needles all in one moment. I didn’t want to believe that you were going to kill me. I didn’t want to believe that you were going to hurt me again.

I wish it wasn’t you.

I had cut a couple of times here. It was always during the point where the fan finally stopped and the realization of hopelessness struck me. It was then when I’d cut myself with a jagged and sharp piece of broken glass because everyone refused to put blades in here like in my actual room. Raymond always had to rush in and try and keep me from going any deeper, but at that point, I honestly hadn’t given a shit. I was going to die anyways.

            Falling face first onto the bed, I listened to the creak it made when I made a plop on the mattress. I shifted and the comforter moved with me as I curled up into the fetal position, fingering the purple fabric in between my thumb and index finger. I reached to move the curtains and something fell out of one of the blankets that I moved—it was a piece of folded up binder paper. Unveiling its contents, I sat up and gazed at the neat, italic handwriting. On the paper, it read:

            When night comes,

So does my shooting star.

High above the others,

So tall and far.

Yet she shines the brightest on the darkest nights,

With no fear she is my light.

Without her I will never find home,

But I will always find where I belong.

I read this a second time—a third, and I still did not understand who this was for or who wrote it. Could it possibly have been you? I tried to think about it, but I didn’t see you as a poet. You looked too tough to be one. Too badass.

But you did lie to me, so, well, hey, shit happens.

Looking at it again, I tried to look at it like some sort of clue.

When night comes, so does my shooting star.

During the night, everybody is awake and alert—ready to attack. What kind of shooting star would that be? A fucking ninja star?

“Fuck this,” I sighed and put it into my pocket. Even though it probably wouldn’t help me with shit, it still made me feel warm and fuzzy inside, like it was made for me.

There was a knock on the door, and I went to open it. And Nikolay stood there. “What is up?” He tried to say with an American accent—I smiled a little.

“Just kinda sitting here…” I replied casually, arms crossed, “Why are you here Nikolay?”

“I gotta watch you tonight, because tomorrow is well… you know.”

I took in a deep breath, “Yeah, I know.”

“Why don’t we go sit down on the couch and talk or something?”

“Uhm,” I rubbed my arm, “okay.”  Both of my arms were wrapped up in thin white bandages because of all the cuts that I engraved into my flesh.

I welcomed Nikolay in and closed the door behind him, going to sit down on my couch, hugging my knees, lower back resting against the armrest. “So how is he? Roivas?” I said in a soft voice.

“I haven’t seen him or talked to him since we turned you in. He hasn’t been around. That, or he’s just trying to avoid us all.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a little uncomfortable with this topic.

“Oh…” I said, a little disappointed with the answer. I wish Nikolay knew how you were, I really wanted to know. Frowning, he rested his hand on my shoulder.

“Everything will be okay.” He said this with a perfect American accent. I looked at him, and he smiled at me. I smiled faintly.

“Thank you…” I whispered, laying my cheek on his arm. He looked down at me and kept me close to him. His lips were resting on the top of my head as he spoke.

“There is no need to thank me… I just, have a need to take care of you. You remind me of my sister Kira when she used to be with me. Maybe when all this assassination business is over, I can find her.”

“I think that would be really nice, to be reunited with your sister, but how do I remind you of her?” I gazed up at him and he looked down at me.

“She was stubborn like you, always determined. She was a dreamer—that was for sure. She always talked about having the perfect first kiss and she always wanted to have her Prince Charming sweep her off her feet and take her away from this life. She was shy, and always scared...”

I closed my eyes as he spoke, and I remained silent in his presence, drifting slowly to sleep. I tried to keep my mind clear of everything, but for my last day, all I could think about was you.

I wish it wasn’t you.

I wish it wasn’t me either. I wish my number never popped up on that damn computer. I wish you never were an assassin. I wish I never met you.

I wish I hadn’t fallen in love with you.