𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄'𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 | an apocalyptic novel ©

Chapter 38

Eyes filled with Hatred

2031

Jason

Aidan just left.

He could have dismantled me and my jaw with the fist he had clenched.

But he didn't.

He got up and left.

Something unsettling, disturbing and terrifying was radiating in his eyes.

He turned into someone – something – I never wished to see.

Perhaps I triggered it, I can turn quite cocky. I know that.

But I didn't know that was what was lurking deep inside him all this time.

They say when your emotions take over you and you lose control, you turn into someone you deeply dread to be. If that was the case with Aidan, I regret asking. Forever.

The grip Aidan had on my throat will surely leave bruises that I will probably have to explain later.

Something in the way his eyes suddenly showed no remorse or obedience made a shiver crawl down my spine.

Something in the way he'd not care how I'd end up.

Why are we like that? Why did I constantly feel the urge to kick him?

And why did he, too?

He was right about one thing, though. I should apologize to Sina.

I hesitantly open the door to her barrack.

Perhaps I'm breaking a rule here, but it is urgent. The rule of separating genders has been bent and broken too many times already.

The room is dimly lit, she is alone.

Sina is facing her back to me, brushing through her wavy hair, a shine from the gas lantern next to her dresser is still casting a shine over it after all those grueling hours of training today.

However, she sees me through the dull glass of the mirror and smiles at me in the reflection, vaguely, when I stand in the doorway.

"Hey..."

Sina places her hairbrush down gently, the sound thudding on the dresser. "Hello, Jason."

Her words are soft, yet monotone, with no emotion painted into them whatsoever.

I bite the inside of my cheek and stuff my hands into my pockets, trying to cautiously approach her, careful to not seem rude for entering her privacy so suddenly without permission.

My steps sound muffled and dull on the hardwood floor.

"How are you, training was cruel today," I manage to say after a moment of thinking about what to say. My voice echoes within the spare interior of the space. Deep down, I feel something is bothering her.

Something that makes me feel nauseous, like a punch straight to the gut. I might be stepping on thin ice.

After a moment of silence, she pivots to me.

"I'm good. You?"

I can't ignore the sharp edge of her words.

Our conversation seems dry, a little off.

Things did change, didn't they?

There have been times when I could talk to her and it'd feel like we'd met ages ago.

But after her nails marked me down my back and we shared the same breath for less than a night after the campfire, that moment vanished. Everything, especially this connection between us is gone, like someone turned off the switch causing the sparks.

To turn them into whatever I could call this.

The electric feeling I had has now run dry.

I swallow the bitter feeling of dread.

The silence between us makes the room feel even wider and bigger than it already is.

Sina's eyes lock with mine, making them glisten in the light.

So much unsaid.

She doesn't know. She can't know, right?

The flickering of the lantern casts distorted shadows against the walls, making them seem like they are caving in on me.

I clear my voice. "Everything alright? You can... talk to me, you know."

To my surprise, she chuckles, but coldly, so cold that I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up straight. A way that sends a chill through me.

"Yeah, yeah, because I believe that." With a sudden movement, Sina sharply turns back to face the mirror, reaching swiftly for her hairbrush again.

When she raises the brush to her head again, her motions are slow and almost stiff, as if she's seeking refuge in the repetitive task.

The lantern paints an eerie shadow of her shape against the hardwood floor.

Following a moment of unspoken words lingering in the air between the palpable tension, she releases a huff, close to a whimper.

"So what, you expect me to tell you something, just so you can go out and-"

Realizing this conversation isn't going the way it was supposed to in my mind, I raise my hands in surrender. Involuntarily, I take a step back to the door.

Every movement she fulfills with the brush is harsh. "Whoa, whoa, no way I would-"

"Call me a slut?" Sina's brows furrow wildly when her eyes lock with mine in the mirror.

I suppress a wince when I see her hurt gaze. "I'd never-"

"Oh, trust me, I heard what I heard."

A feeling deep down in my nerves settles a sense of unease over us.

She places the brush down and slides her hands into her pocket, retrieving a shining silver object made out of metal - her pocket knife, dangerously tight clutched in her left hand.

"Sina, I'm ..."

"You're sorry? Oh really? From what I heard, Aidan was the one who defended me!"

And suddenly, it dawns on me. Sina overheard my conversation with Aidan.

I look at her, unable to say something.

"I thought- I... we..." By the hurt sound of her voice, she seems to be incapable of forming any logical sentences right now.

I sigh, resigned. "Yeah, alright, you got me."

Sina places her pocket knife with the blade extended next to the mirror and reaches for her hair tie. With deliberate motions, she gathers her white hair into a somewhat messy yet collected ponytail and then rests her hands on her dresser, seemingly lost in thought, too, as much as I am right now.

"You're a fucking liar. A bad one, too. And the worst thing is, you don't even realize it."

I feel my fingertips go numb at her accusation. Suddenly, the moment of penetrating silence is interrupted by the sound of something shattering slicing through the room. It's too late for me to notice Sina has driven her pocket knife straight into the mirror, all the way through to strike the wooden wall of the barrack behind it.

And I see my distorted image spread through the shattered glass, the light of the lantern bounces off of it, sending little specks of glitter throughout the room.

Her knife hit the reflection of my face in the mirror.

Right in the center.

"Next time it won't be the mirror, bastard." Sina swiftly removes the weapon and pushes past me, to the door, bumping against my shoulder - maybe on purpose - before continuing towards the door.