The Parables

Cyrin - Precinct Four

Cyrin - Precinct Four

My eyes snap open. Instantly, I feel the cold, smooth surface of the knife's blade pressed against my cheek, my hand grasping it tightly so I wouldn't drop it whilst I was asleep. I move it out from under my cheek and rest it on the mattress, still clutching it like it was the most precious thing on earth. As my only means of protection, I need to keep it on me at all times. I'd have trouble sleeping without it.

A small slither of light creeps into my room through a narrow gap in the doorway, crawling across the carpet and up the bed, towards my face. Wincing in the bright morning light, I rub my eyes; I feel more tired this morning than I did last night before I went to bed. Sitting up, I gaze at the blank television screen and catch my reflection in it. My deep copper hair is bedraggled and in knots as if I'd been dragged through a bush backwards and there are dark bags under my eyes. I glare at the television screen like it was somebody criticising my appearance and heave the duvet off me.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I jump down from the suspended bunk and enter the en suite. Grabbing a towel from the towel rack in the corner, I slip out of the nightdress I'd come across last night in the wardrobe and head into the shower. My skin is dry, my hair is greasy and my mind could do with a relaxing hot shower. Turning the dial, I let the water pound down onto my shoulders, drenching me in a humid mist and warmth that I haven't had in such a long time.

After my shower, I dry myself quickly then wrap the towel around me tightly before heading back into my sleeping quarters. The minute I close the door, I hear a knock at the other door. Frowning, I hide the knife on my bed under the pillow and walk over to the door, opening it. Standing before me is Nymphaea, dressed in a black blouson dress and looking at me sternly. I narrow my eyes back at her.

"Yes?" I ask, with slight arrogance.

Nymphaea's look becomes sterner. "I just came to tell you to make sure you dress in a light green dress or blouse with a black skirt," she says, somewhat coldly.

"Why?"

"Never you mind. Breakfast will be on the table in under ten minutes. Make sure you're dressed by then. We have less than an hour until we arrive in The Commune." She reaches out for my door handle and shuts the door.

"Stuff you," I mutter to the door.

Opening the wardrobe doors, I sigh at the amount of clothes there are and slowly start to sift through the rack of garments. After a couple of minutes, I find myself a satisfactory green blouse, black A-line skirt and a hairbrush. I head back into the en suite and quickly change into the clothes. Hanging up my towel, I pick up my nightdress and fold it up neatly. Dumping it on the bed, I brush through my hair quickly, then toss the hairbrush onto the bed and leave the room.

As I head into the main area of the carriage,  I notice Larix is already sitting at the dining table, sipping from a mug of dark, rich coffee. He looks up, catches sight of me walking in and smiles at me. I give him a small smile in return and take a seat opposite him. On the table, there is already an array of different breakfast foods. From croissants and pancakes to bacon and eggs, sausages to mushrooms and tomatoes, toast and jam to bowls of fresh fruit, there is more on this table than I eat in a week. Maybe longer.

"Morning, Cyrin, " Larix greets.

"Good morning," I mumble in reply.

Just then, Nymphaea bursts in from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of beans. She places it down in the middle of the table, sighs then heads back into the kitchen. Larix grabs his spoon, scoops up some beans and tips them onto his plate. Suddenly, the kitchen door bangs open and Nymphaea stands in the doorway, frowning.