A Game of Colours

Chapter 31: You

I awake to pitch darkness, save for a sliver of light escaping from underneath the battered door frame. The consistent throbbing of pain in my side wakes me up often, and I search for something to distract myself with.

Memories of the past are a bad choice; the kind that slowly eat away at you rather than knock you out all at once--but they're all I have left of Isaac and Jarrah. Like a drug, I need the glimpses into a happier time to distract myself from the present, to fight back the sorrow.

I think about them all the time. Isaac's presence, now gone from my life, leaves a gaping hole in my mind. An emptiness that will never be filled. He rarely spoke to me of his emotions, but he didn't need to. They were written all over his determined and angry eyes, sung like a lyric-less song in his raspy and powerful voice, and felt in every comforting embrace.

Jarrah--I can't yet think of him. His death to me is surreal, for I never saw it the way I did Isaac's. It is an unconfirmed and yet blatantly obvious assumption that he didn't survive that day in the gallows. Still I draw the hope that his life was spared, though one day that too will be gone from me as I face the truth I have blindfolded myself from.

I may have escaped the plantation, but I will never escape the grief that they have left me with.

Eager to push it further to the back of my mind, I focus on my breathing to force myself into a restless slumber. I soon hear muffled arguments echo outside, keeping me from falling back to sleep. I strain to make out the conversation, but to no avail. It sounds agitated and persistent, barely loud enough for me to ignore. After three or four days of lying in bed I decide to test my luck standing and see what the commotion is.Tiredly, I clutch the edge of the mattress with my left hand and try to swing myself up. Immediately, I feel a gut-wrenching ache in my side and tumble off the bed and onto the floor with a cry.

The argument stops. "Alice? What's happened?" I hear a female voice call.

I find difficulty regaining my breath, feeling faint and dizzy.

Light floods the room moments later as the door  swings half-open to reveal Lewis.  She looks flustered and breathless as she closes it behind her and rushes towards me.

"Lord, Alice, you hurt yourself even in sleep? What am I supposed to do with you?" she sighs.

I mutter a delicate string of curse words, to which she rolls her eyes.

"All right then, let's get you up."

I grab her shoulders for support, but stop abruptly when I hear fragments of the argument outside continue.

"Please, believe me when...it's for her own good..."

"-What do you know--her own good!?"

It can't be.

Lewis quickly snaps me back to attention, talking louder than normal.

"Come on, Alice, ignore them. It's just Jim and his mate. Grab my shoulders, I'll help you up."

I frown and strain my ears to hear better, ignoring her command.

"There's nothing you can--"

"Alice, please just ignore them," insists Lewis nervously.

"For the last time, lad, you can't go in there--"

"For the last time, Jim, you can't stop me!"

That voice. Unmistakeable, and alive.

My eyes widen as the door slams open, to reveal the form of a tall figure. His sandy hair is unruly and hasn't been washed in days. His arms are a patchwork of deep blues and brilliant purples, with streaks of dark red forming a bitter pattern. His eyes look tired and his face is unwashed, visible with the tears that streak down his cheek upon seeing me.