To Imagine...

Imagine Nine: Skylar

"That's what we need to talk about, there is a lot to understand." He faltered for a moment, his eyelids flickering. "And I do have an increasing amount of questions to ask you."

I sat back down against the stool, half-leaning, half-sitting on it.

"Well then ask me," I said. "I'm all ears."

Annoyance flashed across his features and I tensed again, heart racing. He looked about ready to take my head off, but in the same moment I didn't feel threatened. He seemed to stare at me for a long time, thinking. I hardly even breathed.

"Where am I?" He asked, very quietly, eyes sliding to the ground, away from me. I almost didn't hear him, and I blanched when I understood what he was asking me.

"Yutan, Michigan," I said, almost just as quietly. I stared at him. "We're in the northern parts of the United States."

I watched as the muscles of his delicate jawline tightened under his skin, and it took him a long time to look at me again. I found myself feeling bad for him, but his behavior sent off a thousand different questions, and a thousand different things told me that I was definitely in the middle of something that I wanted no part in.

"What are you united against?" The boy finally asked, leaning back against the bed to sit on it. His eyes would still not meet my gaze, and I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"United against? Why would we be united against anything? We're just the United States." The boy looked up at me then, his face a stone wall of emotion. I furrowed my brow deeper.

"If you're united, you've got to be united against something," he said. "There's no giant threat, no one trying to kill you?"

I let my lips part in a small "o", but I shook my head and said nothing. What was he on about?

"There are other countries that we aren't really friends with," I said after awhile of silence, "but it's not like we're fighting, or they're trying to kill us."

"Countries?"

"I don't know, like North Korea, Cuba, Russia. I don't really know our diplomatic relations with other countries, but of everyone, we probably don't have the best with them. I think."

The boy started to say something, but then closed his mouth into the tiniest of frowns. His dark eyes moved away from mine again, studying the room.

"What is 'America'?" He asked, and I found myself staring at him again, silence wafting between us, until he finally looked to me again. He blinked slowly, and in that moment I realized incredulously that his question was sincere—either that, or he had the most damnedest poker face I'd ever seen. That was the end of it—I didn't know what to do.

I stood slowly, pushing off of the stool, moving to sit cross-legged on the floor a few steps closer to him. He sat up straighter when I moved to him, and I let out a deep breath, looking up at him from my point on the floor. I didn't know how to ask what I was thinking, or even if it was a good idea, so I sat there for a long time, our eyes locked until I felt like I was drowning in him.

And then I suddenly didn't know what to do—my entire body felt paralyzed, like I couldn't move. It felt like a full-body straitjacket made of pure iron had been cast around my body, and it had trapped me in my current position, weighing down heavily on my back, choking me. I found myself unable to breathe—my vision pulsed and dimmed with each beat of my heart, slowly swallowing the world around me until all I could see were his eyes—and then they were gone.

*~*~*

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit."

The girl was choking, flailing on the ground, barely heaving in breaths and her eyes scattered across the room, rolling back behind her eyelids—I tended to have that effect on people. And yet—

"Shit!"

I ground my teeth into my cheeks until I tasted blood, and had to remind myself to stop—but she was being much too loud, and my hands cuffed behind me were absolutely useless. The immense lethal urge that that thought brought upon me was deafening, and I could nearly feel the action as my eyes dilated into an intense red hue, in response to my heavy seething. The two responsible for the action were dead, I reminded myself, but it made no difference—the humiliation still clung to my bound wrists.

My lips curled up in a snarl, a low growl forming in my throat, until I gradually realized that the girl had quieted. My gaze shot to where she had been, to find her awake and staring up at me—and she must have leapt three feet across the floor when our eyes connected.

I regained my composure and blinked all in that one moment, the red disappearing from my eyes before they had time to open again. When my eyes found her own, it took only a moment for my gaze to drop, held only by the carpet and walls. I could hear her every move, her quickened breathing... I could see her wide eyes in the corners of my own. Thick fear clogged the air, mixed with a soft undertone of sweat. I could hardly stand it. She swallowed.

"I can get some bolt cutters from the garage," she said, her voice shaking to stay above a whisper. "And then you can eat."

I glanced to her, but again lowered my eyes from her face. She slowly moved to her feet as I watched, and I looked away again, to the bedroom door.

"I'll come with you." I spoke again to silence her protests: "Your mother is asleep."

Her mouth snapped shut, and I knew she was upset with me, but she walked my way.

I led the way out the door.