The In Between

Chapter 43

Justin

I start to tear down the house of memories in my mind. I don't want to remember. I want to forget. I see the pain in her face, in her eyes, I hear it in her voice. It replays on a loop in my head like I hit "repeat" on my iPod.

I did what I had to do to. I had to hurt Tara to save her. I know that. But lying here in my hut in the High Security Zone, knowing that doesn't help, not really, not enough.

I tried just once to signal Tara with my blinking. I hadn't planned on it. The last thing I wanted was to jeopardize her safety—or mine. But seeing the agony I was causing her...I couldn't stop myself.

Luckily, she didn't notice. She was too hurt to notice.

I wish I had a mirror to see her with. I don't know what she's doing now. How she's handling this. I want to be sure that she won't hurt herself. That no one is hurting her. Was Amanda messing with her? I did write Amanda a note after I went to see her that day, to apologize for hurting her. Tara couldn't possibly think that I wanted to get back together with Amanda...could she?

I have never felt so helpless. The future—whatever it might hold—is now completely out of my hands, to be decided by others: Malthus, Damaris , Zerachiel, Valefor. They're making the rules, devising the strategies, while I remain in the dark, powerless.

I feel the unmistakable outline of a feeling I used to know called "anger"  well up inside me. I've now done everything they asked—and still there is no word, no forward movement. I hate them. I hate that I need them. More than anything, I'm desperate for Malthus to return and tell me his plan. The longer he waits, the longer Tara has to live with the pain I've inflicted on her. 

And the closer I get to time running out.

Three days, two days...

I imagine the enormous brass scale in Zerachiel's office tipping further and further down...

There's no way for me to summon Malthus, no way for me to even know if he's still working on my behalf. 

And if he's not? Then what? 

A shudder runs through me.

I sit up, I lie back down.

Her face haunts me. I hurt her all over again. I did it because I had to—for our future. And I'll do whatever comes next. But something nags at me, like what Damaris said about intentions and actions. It's is never right to hurt someone you love.

Finally, I hear the locks on my door begin to slide open.

I bolt upright, filled with anticipation and relief.

Damaris nods to the Enforcer who is rattling his enormous keys and slides into the room, her thick hair brushing against the doorframe. She smiles reassuringly at me as she walks up to my bed. But something in her weathery eyes seems apprehensive. Maybe I'm reading into it too much. When you're in the dark about everything, you look for clues everywhere. Superstition becomes a strategy.

"How are you?" Damaris asks, sitting down delicately on the edge of the stone bed and smoothing her robe.

"I did what everyone said," I reply quickly.

"Yes, so I have heard."

"You've seen Zerachiel?"

"I have spoken with him."

"And?"

"He is mollified, but he is not convinced," Damaris admits.

"What does he want from me?" I can hear the frustration rising in my voice.