Year 18

-Chapter 33-

To add to our surprise and inherent distrust, the Leader asks that the Agents show us to our rooms. Rather than the all too familiar cells I had imagined being forced into, we are guided to fully furnished rooms.

"These rooms are usually reserved for visiting guests who require heightened security," an Agent explains. I care little about the history of these rooms, although there is part of me that wonders if such guests are entirely innocent themselves. "We will be posted outside of your rooms, if there is anything you need."

This Agent—probably no older than Kane—has a grating tone that implies this command is one he would rather not follow. Still, once he opens the door, Kane and I are left alone, the others being taken down the hall by other Agents who seem just as disingenuous as the one now positioned outside our door.

I can't ignore the hesitancy I feel at being split up once more, but I know Kane's trust lies with Amy. As much control as she had, I trust she has some pull in this too. And despite all of that, I don't have any say regardless. For now, it will have to be enough that everyone is under this one roof, despite all the implications given our location.

It's only a half hour later when Kane and I find ourselves settling in for the evening. In the bathroom, I locate a few supplies to tend to the wounds Kane has sustained throughout the evening. He doesn't protest as I wipe away the dirt before disinfecting the scrapes and lacerations. Around his wrists there are harsh red lines pressed in deep by the cuffs that had restrained us.

"Let me see." Kane moves my sleeves up away from my wrists. The area isn't quite as raw, but it throbs all the same as the fabric moves over it. "I'll clean these."

I hold still as Kane dabs a disinfectant onto the open wounds.

It's been easy to ignore with all that's gone on in the past few days alone, but it's in these quieter moments that the distances that has formed between Kane and I feels largely insurmountable. This thick silence would once have been filled with easy conversation. Despite the enshrouding antics of the Leader, the too often oppressed and stilled rebellion, we have had many good moments. That connectedness feels far away now, Kane's face void of emotion as he continues to cleanse the tears in my skin.

"Stay still," he says as he starts to wrap gauze around my wrists. I do as he says.

My heart hurts knowing there are things he's keeping from me. I can see the pain in his eyes, despite how cloudy and lifeless they look.

Whatever happened here in the cells is something he still has yet to talk about. I've held suspicions, concerns at the depravity the Leader inflicted on him. That Charlie inflicted on him. The Leader's cruelty will never hold the weight that Charlie's has, I know that. Regardless, I know being back here brings up everything that has weighed heavy on him, everything he's chosen to keep to himself.

"You can tell me anything," I say, watching as Kane fidgets with the gauze around his own wrists. "If there's anything I can do to help..."

I choke on the words.

Part of me feels I should stay out of it, that my betraying him has revoked any right I held to press. Still, another louder part of me knows the harm that comes from feeling as though there isn't anyone you can share freely with. There is no way to repair what's been broken if we don't start somewhere.

Kane's eyes soften, only a bit at the corners.

"They probably have all our rooms bugged. It's not the best place to have any important discussions."

"Then how about something unimportant?" I ask.

We have known each other now for quite some time. Still, there are many things about Kane I don't know. All those things one learns through small talk usurped by demands for change, learning to fight, learning to move forward.

Kane leans back, his palm sinking into the mattress.

"What did you have in mind?"

"What hobbies do you have?"

A single humorless laugh escapes Kane's lips.

"It's been a while since I've truly had a hobby," he sighs. "But when I was younger I read all the time. You?"

I think back to my years living on the streets, my days spent focused on survival rather than any trivial tasks. When I was first abandoned, I remember first the crushing loss of my family. I wanted nothing more than to see them again. The years turned me bitter that they hadn't fought harder, that my family had made me feel unwanted on top of everything else. However, it was early on in my abandonment when I found myself missing the games Paul and I would play. He was younger, so the rules were always simplified. I didn't mind, often winning despite his best efforts to gain any sort of upper hand.

"Paul and I used to play games," I think of the boards, cards, pawns. "I missed them more than I would have expected to once I was on the streets. More than that, I missed having Paul around to talk to."

Our favorite was a game our father taught us. It didn't require any pieces or intense instructions. Rather, all we needed was ourselves. Paul and I would stand back to back with our eyes closed. We counted down from ten, each taking five steps forward, away from one another. After that, we would each take multiple step sideways, backward, forward more, one after the other until we were no longer on the same path. Then came our turns, taking steps, one after the other. No words. No reaching out. Our objective was to find one another and stand back to back once more in as few steps as possible without anything but a careful listening ear.

"I don't have many memories of either of my siblings growing up," Kane says, his voice quiet. "Andrew left when I was still pretty young, and Anya was much younger than I was. For most of my life, I assumed they had both died."

I always wondered what happened to Paul after I was abandoned. Until speaking with our parents at that first Social Gathering, I'd assumed he had passed every achievement on the path to the Academy. Learning he too had missed Year Achievements was both surprising and terrifying. For the first time, I had been forced to picture my brother living a life like I had. Would it have been easier for him since he was older? Would it have been more difficult, so used to a life far different than what he was set to enter into?

"Charlie..." Kane's voice catches, "he was like a brother to me. All of them were."

Charlie. Paul. Felix. Those that Kane held close. Those that betrayed him.

Still, there are those that have held fast to Kane and his mission. Ben. Tom. Jack. So many more.

"What's your favorite color?" I ask, not wanting Kane to feel that he needs to elaborate more, worried that if we continue talking about anything personal he'll retract completely. I can tell he notices my discomfort, that I'm trying to tread carefully.

"Blue," he says. "You?"

"Red," I answer. It's small talk, easy enough, especially since these are things we have never taken the time to discuss. Still, it feels difficult. It feels like trekking backward.

"I'm trying," Kane sighs. My eyes dart up, having fallen to my hands wringing in my lap. "You're here and you're you. I know that. However—through no fault of yours—I can't seem to accept it."

I don't know how to respond so I stay silent, willing him to expand further.

"If we're going to find our way back, I need to be transparent," Kane's voice is less sure, hesitant.

"We can have this conversation another time," I try to assure him. He was right when he said our rooms are probably all bugged. The Leader may be allowing us some freedom, but it's only a hollow shell. We're still being held here, even if we have room to roam. We don't have any way to leave.

"No," Kane's eyebrows pull inward, and he reaches for my hand. "I need to tell you what happened in the Cells."

A/N~ Hi everyone! I don't have any new questions this time around. I do want to hear your feedback as always! And in addition to that, your thoughts on what you would like to see from me after Year 18 concludes. 

Until next time!

- Sarah