𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒓 ᖭི༏ᖫྀ 𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚖𝚜

chapter thirty five : the sane before us

[XXXV]

THREE WEEKS had passed now.

It may as well have been a lifetime.

The first two were easy. I focused on myself, my goal. Half of the 7th Ward came with me, and the other stayed to watch over New Orleans, and the ones who came with me? Fucking A.

Don't get me wrong, I was wary. Last time I moved with a group they left me to fucking die, so I kept one eye open most nights. But these guys were the real deal.

Miles was my rock. He made me feel sane again. Nights after looking at maps, running through plans with the others, sometimes we'd be left in the attic. Sprawled over couches or sitting on ledges, in the later hours we'd reminisce and share, philosophical afterthoughts about anything and nothing. He was so wise, so stoic. Always knew what to say.

But on the tail of the second week it started to hit. Her absence.

I would weep for her. For the heart I had lost.

It wasn't like the other times. We hadn't miscommunicated, we hadn't been kidnapped or taken hostage. There was no grand separation to blame. We had simply had enough.

And it felt so anticlimactic. I had loved her so deeply and fondly and in her rejection I walked away to defend my pride. How could I have let her go? I should have told her things could change...I should've...

The should've was a strange sentiment. The evil, guilt-ridden cousin of 'what if', should've followed my every footstep, in the nooks and crannies of my thoughts, in the parts of my brain I tucked back furthest, and they crept with more and more ferocity than before. Haunting my nights and plaguing my days. My only respite was Miles. I would wake up during the nights in cold sweat, dreaming of my mum, Finn, Ellie. He wouldn't say anything, but rest a hand on my shoulder until I could calm down. And I'm the day he knew that the best way to keep moving forward was to distract me, which wasn't hard. There was always something to do.

We traversed in a group, much like I had before with the Salt Lakers, but a different dynamic.

I was a guest, even with my connection to Kiara Mikos. These guys had been raised together, basically siblings, and the only one who was learning about them was me. But, similarly, they were curious about me too.

"So, you know where you come from?" Raphy asked, filling the gap as he untied his bun and let his curls loose.

I was a bit of a mixed bag. "I only know two things: that I am at least a little English, like my mum, but she was also Greek, like my surname Mikos. Other than that, no clue."

"Kiara didn't tell you about your heritage?"

I mulled it over. "Mum never really talked about her life, as far as I can remember. She lived in the moment, learnt and taught in tandem."

Raphy put his hand to his chest. "Back home, it's important to know what your past is, where your roots are, so you can make your own. My family have lived in New Orleans for over two hundred years, but they did not come as free people."

Raphy taught me the past of the world, something I had not learned. It disgusted me; I had assumed the old world, though a place of many faults, was a utopia in comparison to what we have now. It scared me that humans didn't need a societal collapse to behave like monsters; in fact, they could justify it by creating laws and spinning lies and prejudice. He was right, it was important we knew. To understand the monsters of the present, you need merely look to their fathers.

"But it is also important to remember the joy, not just the suffering. Our people held traditions, they shared culture, and they were happier still than the men who took their freedom.