Invincible

Chapter 4 - Confinement

There is nothing to do here, except talk. Seeing as I don't do that, we have come to a bit of a problem. Dax has started telling me fairy tales, ones passed down through generations. He's told me about The Emu War, which was a real war, and lots of what his people call The Dreamings.

But even Dax has gotten bored, and with plain white walls surrounding us, I feel as if we're going mad. The only thing we can do once Dax runs out of stories is lie on our beds and wait. Dreading the future. We will get separated and sent off, Dax probably to be a labourer or in a brothel where those bruises will never fade. I'm standing, staring at the same wall I've been staring at for the past day.

Not for the first time in my life, I'm scared. Scared for myself, scared for Dax. I know why, and I hate that I feel what I do towards him. After all, we're being separated in a day. We'll never see each other again.

His bruises have faded, his cuts starting to scab over. Underneath everything, he's handsome.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Dax asks, lightly stroking a finger down my arm. He's come up behind me, trying to see what I'm staring at.

I move to start typing into my arm, but Dax stops me. His fingers circle around my wrist, barely touching me, yet that is all my body needs to react.

"If you stare at the white for long enough, other colours start to show. They tell a story of all the other kids who have been in here." He stays behind me, but drops my wrist. His arms rest lightly on my shoulders.

"Our story will soon be with theirs. Others will come and wonder who stayed here before them, and what they ended up doing."

I smile as Dax continues to talk, his body heat seeping into my body and distracting me. I lean back into him slightly. He breathes in deeply, and lets the air out slowly.

"Let's hope ours has a good ending." Dax finishes talking, but neither of us move. We both know the probability of a good ending is low. The probability of us staying together after tonight is even lower.

The food comes, we eat and go to bed. Not wanting this night to end, I type into my device.

"I don't want to face tomorrow." The robotic voice echoes in the silence. There must be other kids behind the walls, yet we never hear them. There has to be, even if they're jailed here for breaking rules.

"None of the other stories did either. But they probably didn't have another in here with them," Dax rolls onto his side, and I can just make out his face.

"Come here." Dax opens his arms. He looks so welcoming, and I can't resist.

I get up from my bed and move silently across the room to him. He lifts the sheet for me, and when I snuggle under there with him, it feels like home.

His arms wrap around me, holding me to his chest. We breathe in sync. Slowing inhale and exhale. Pause, then repeat.

After a few minutes of this, my eyelids start to feel heavy, but the rest of me still refuses to sleep. Refuses to admit defeat.

"Still awake?" Dax murmurs into my hair. His arms loosen, and I turn to face him. He looks at me and something inside me stirs.

I can't be bothered to type my feelings out. The robotic voice has started pissing me off. Using it is more helpful than trying to teach Dax sign language, or tracing words on his skin, but it's just not convenient.

I open my mouth, try to talk, but only croaks come out. I sound like a frog. That's what you get when you don't speak for years. I try again, and this time he can maybe make out the words.

"Crynn, what are you doing?" Confusion laces his voice, as well as concern.

"Dax," I manage to say, almost shaking with the effort. I feel him stiffen, and hold his breath.

"What's wrong Crynn?" He asks, concern now taking over. He moves away from me and looks at me.

"Nothing." One word at a time. I can do this. Hearing my own voice again, it's surreal. It doesn't sound the same as it used to.

"Why are you talking now?" He pulls me closer, almost like he's scared. I think he is.

"I don't want to just accept this." A full sentence. Plus, it's coherent. My heart starts to race, scared of what he's going to say, to do.

"Neither do I. But what can we do?" Dax asks. He makes a point.

I know nothing of what we could do, or would want to anyway. Just being close to him isn't enough. I need something more, but I can't name what I need. Trying to voice this is difficult, but my message gets across eventually.

Dax doesn't say anything, just sits up and pulls his shirt over his head. He doesn't chuck it across the room like they do in books, just folds it neatly on the pillow.

He lies down again and pulls me back into him. His bare skin is really hot. Not able to help myself, I start tracing words onto the skin. I can barely see, but I can tell he has muscle under his dark skin.

He inhales sharply. "Better?"

I nod, knowing he can feel it. I wriggle upwards and press my forehead against his.

"Thank you," I breathe, not daring to move to speak. My voice is still rough, but every word makes it smoother. Talking to Dax, actually talking to him, feels right.

He doesn't reply, just presses his lips to my forehead. His hands slip under my shirt, but don't stray anywhere.

We lie like this for a while, until it stops feeling like enough. Somehow, I still want more, need more. Dax smiles when I tell him, lips still close to my skin.

Then his lips move away from me, and he whispers.

"Stop me if it becomes too much,"

His lips are on mine, and everything feels right. I kiss him back, not wanting to just sit there like an idiot. Warm hands move up my back, his body pressed to mine.