Ell Sadem

FIVE: QUESTIONS

—Evan—

Crickets chirp to the soft drum of raindrops on the shed's tin roof behind me. Crouching by the fire pit, I toss the bloody clothes into the small fire I had started, watching as the flames struggle to take hold of the damp material; this was not how I had pictured things to go. Then again I could have never dreamt of any of this.

I grab a stick and stir the coals, the light sprinkle just enough to weaken the flames; Some foolish part of me thought all I had to do would be to track her down and maybe break her out of some dungeon or castle keep, but no. I had to trek through four realms before this, and now that I've found her she doesn't remember anything.

There's no saying if this is her either. I can be very much mistaken; it happened before, and there's more than one strange rumor about Ell Sadem, but having the ability to heal herself is not one of them. Her being left in a children's home could be a coincidence too… I lean back on my heels and nock my head back to stare at the dark gray sky above, breathing in the smoke. I need a way to find out if she is the one I'm looking for. There are so many questions she had the answers to. Things that could be crucial to keeping the peace. But if I'm being honest with myself, I need to know why Callum felt the need to go to her when father would have disowned him if he ever found out about it.

I don't know if he was telling me the truth. But I won't find out. Not from him, and not unless I find the real Ell Sadem and whatever fabled Omen she knows.

The fire pops, one of the small logs shifting and falling over; Hopefully no one inside notices it. Trying to explain what I'm doing outside in the middle of the night while it's raining does not sound like it will go over too well with my host parents.

Something nudges my side.

I look over to see a pair of luminous yellow eyes, "Hey bud."

—|—

—Ella—

I stare up at the ceiling unable to sleep, my chest throbbing, and my head aching like someone's trying to split it open; I should be dead… but I'm not. Evan should be dead and he plainly isn't— I still have to go to school. Great.

I groan, running my fingers through my hair; it's almost two in the morning and I can't sleep because I can't stop thinking. My eyes squeeze shut, images of the shooting flashing behind my lids over and over without letting up.

Finally, I shove off my bed, shuffling over the carpeting to my desk; why is it that I can never block it out? Why is it that even a little blood makes it all come rushing back? Every little detail, the sounds, the helplessness… I should be able to block it all out and yet here I am. Wanting to go to sleep but too terrified that if I do I won't be able to wake from the nightmares.

Well, if I'm going to be awake all night I might as well be productive with the extra time. My eyes linger for a moment over the shadowy lump that is an assignment for next week before I click on the desk lamp and open my laptop.

Mr. Jeffries said that Ritcher is an exchange student, well, now is a good time to see if his story holds up. Yes, I got shot in the chest, yes, he got shot three times, and yes, we’re both alive, but no, that isn't enough for me to believe him. Weird supernatural stuff doesn't mean he's on my side, for all I know he's working for the same people as the gunman.

That brings up another question, how does he know about my parents? I rub my eyes, dragging my hands down my face in frustration; he just had to bring that up. Of all the things he had to bring up, he just had to… I stop scrolling staring at the news article dated back almost eleven years ago with the picture of a very confused-looking little blond boy.

If I didn't know better I’d think it's Evan but it can’t be… I click the link a lump growing in my throat.

‘Five-year-old boy found abandoned in woods claims his name is Evan Ritcher. Local authorities say they have found no record of him and there seem to be no guardians—.’

I check the date again before opening a new page and head for my adoption papers. Three hours later I come up empty-handed, the closed adoption not even divulging if there are hereditary illnesses in the family.

A door creeks down the hall, Dad’s footsteps lightly sounding past my room and down the stairs.

I sigh, propping my head up with one hand and dragging the other through my hair for the millionth time. A dark chuckle slips; if I were to get caught looking through these files I'd be in so much trouble. Not that anyone will ever know I got in, and if they ever do they won't be able to get me to rat on the one who helped me.

Mom’s probably going to be up soon too. I should get going, school starts at seven and it's five-thirty now.

Pulling the silver chain from around my neck I set it down and head for the shower across the hall. The bandages I'd put on last night hug me tighter as I reach to turn the hot water on, reminding me of the hole that should be there.

I stop short of the knob pulling my hand back and tentatively roll my shoulders. There’s no pain. I take a deep breath and hold it, something that would have knocked me out last night, and slowly release it. Nothing.

I pull the oversized shirt off one shoulder and move the bloodied bandages aside revealing an angry red dot with light pink borders. It's gone… I turn around angling my head so that I can see my back.

The circle in my back where the bullet had gone through is admittedly larger but is closed all the same. What the—school. Right, I have to get ready for school.