Ultramarine -- REWRITTEN

Twelve. [c.h.] -- REWRITTEN

          "Can you tell me something?"

          I glanced up at him from my cards, sitting criss cross on my side of the force field.

          "Depends on what it is," I replied slowly, stretching my back and exhaling.

         "Well," he began, picking out a set from his hand. He placed down four threes. "Since you can't or won't tell me about the history of the Association yet, tell me about your section and how it differs from the rest of ours. Also, do you have an ace?"

          "Go fish. What do you want to know about it?"

          He picked up a card from the pile, his hand slipping so easily through the force field. Bubbling jealousy simmered in my stomach. He shrugged, "I don't know. Anything."

          I pursed my lips and played my turn. I set down four Kings and picked up a card. My thoughts rolled in my head, trying to find something I could tell him. A weighed longing brimmed my eyes thinking of the sand, the air, the sounds, the people, the food, the safety. . .

          "Charmaine?" he interrupted.I looked up at him from my cards, his appearance masked by a golden layer. I waved my hand.

          "Sorry. You wanted to know how it's different?"

          "Yeah, and do you have a two?" I nodded as I slipped my two from my hand and handed it to him before answering his question.          

          "Well, first off, people aren't assigned jobs; they can do whatever they want. Except for me. I was assigned," I chuckled lightly. "Second--"

          "Wait, why were you assigned?" He set his hand of cards face down. Caught off guard, I stared at him for a moment, a lump forming in my throat at the memory. I could clearly recall the body bag placed at the entrance and unzipping it. My fingers shook and the rapid beating of my heart came to a sudden halt, knocking the air from my lungs and making my vision blur. Suddenly my heartbeat came back stronger, pounding in my ears and throbbing in my throat at the sight. I could taste blood. I wanted to choke. Leon's fingers gripped into my arm, seeing our father dead in a bag like trash. His jaw had fallen open with glazed eyes, once an electric blue, but then preyed upon my dreams for months to come. All of his muscles were relaxed, presenting a figure I didn't want to recognize.

          Warren pulled my shoulders back and my eyes began to water from staying open too long. He embraced me, but I couldn't tear my gaze away from the man that had always presented a brave front, killed because of it. His lips pressed against the top of my head as I shook it, unwilling to believe that his body was now an empty shell. Not even his warm embrace could burn away the chills crawling across my skin, like I had thousands of layers trying to protect me from the cold, but could still feel the frosty breeze. Events flashed through my mind of everything he would miss. Even the moment when people suggested that I be the leader only days after his arrival, and my hesitation watching the hands rise to the ceiling in agreement. My feelings had been mixed; I didn't want to carry that burden, but I didn't want to take orders from anyone else. Why can't someone else do it? I had questioned anyway. Because you know more than us combined, they had replied. We hadn't even buried him.

          "Charmaine?"

           My gaze focused on his viridian eyes. I shook my head, closing my eyes and rubbing the bridge of my nose.

          "Sorry. What was your question?"

          "Why were you assigned?" I cleared my throat.