The Season Trials

C H A P T E R T H R E E

Unedited.

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C H A P T E R       T H R E E

               A hand stroking my hair sends me into a flurry of panic. Whirling, I sit up in a rush. Turning around, I stare with wide eyes at Jaylee. She sits in front of me, watching me with gentle blue eyes.

               "Jaylee? What're you doing here?"

               She stares at me, tears gathering in her eyes. "What? You're not happy to see me?" There's a bitterness to her voice, I've never heard before.

               Shaking my head, I reach out and grab her hand. It's soft, small and hers. "Of course I am. I'm so happy you're here. But why?"

               "Why not?" She shrugs. "Does it matter?"

               Blinking back tears, I grip her hand tighter. "No. It doesn't. I'm so happy you're here. I've been so scared. They're disgusting—expecting us to thank them after they . . . they . . ." My throat gets tight, the words refusing to pass my lips. It's just too painful. "Is she gone?" I ask, voice hoarse, though I'm not sure if I want to know.

               Jaylee stares at me, as if memorising my face. Finally she nods, tears falling down her cheeks. Each one is like a physical blow to the heart. "She's gone. Gone. I tried to bring her back. But there was blood, so much blood. And it was everywhere, Kaylin. I couldn't get rid of it. I tried . . . and I failed."

               As she collapses into sobs, I gather her closer. "It's okay. There was nothing you could do. It's okay. It's all going to be okay." Rocking her back and forth, I mutter the words in her ear; a mantra.

               All I can see is mum, lying in a pool of her own blood. Because of me. "Shhh, Jaylee, you're okay. It's not your fault, none of this is. It's mine." The admission burns deeper than the brand on my wrist. "Don't blame yourself. You did everything you could."

               Jaylee shakes her head, clutching my waist tighter. "It's not your fault, Kaylin."

               Stroking my hand over her blonde hair, I rest my head atop hers. "Yes it is. So don't blame yourself for any of this. You're not the reason she was shot. I am."

               "Stop," Jaylee whispers, voice cracking. "Don't say that. I won't let you."

               "Jaylee," I whisper, staring around us. Oddly enough, there's no soldiers around pointing guns at us. They seem to have disappeared. It's honestly a little unbelievable. My ankle is still aching—a reminder of their cruelty. "It's the truth."

               "It's not. It's their fault. His fault."

               Narrowing my eyes, I hiss, "Don't say that. Do you know what they'll do it they hear you?"

               Jaylee glares back, hatred burning in her gaze. Her voice is harder than I've ever heard before—unforgiving and merciless. "I don't care. They took to away from me. They took mum from me. They took everything and it won't ever stop."

               "What can we do?" I whisper, hugging her closer. The question is redundant—there's nothing we can do and there won't ever be. "Nothing, Jaylee. They have all the power and what do we have? Nothing."