Colourless

Chapter One

Whether it was the unanimous sense of dread or the almost silent cooling systems, the train carriage was cold — uncomfortably cold.

With a shaky breath, I tucked my bag away in the designated overhead luggage compartments. The movement drew up my shirt and the cold air nipped at my bare skin; it was definitely the air conditioner. Tugging at the thin, floral material, I slid onto the cushioned seat across from Aria and allowed the lush material to embrace me like a warm hug.

Turning, I gingerly traced the ice that had already formed along the windows. It felt almost like a taunt; as though the weather itself was telling me to be scared; like it was turning it's back on me after I spent years relishing in the cold, all wrapped up in bed with a worn born and my siblings.

Remembering my books, I batted my lashes hopefully at Aria as she stood up to retrieve something from her own bags. "Could you please grab my book?"

"Is there just one, or an alphabetised library?" Swatting playfully at Aria's hip as she stood over me, the redhead snickered and reached into my overnight bag.

"Ah, The Great Gatsby, a classic." Aria grinned, passing me the well-worn book that had spent many years gathering dust on a shelf. "Fitting, really, considering in nearly 24 hours we could become fabulously wealthy."

"They don't just hand you money," I snorted, thanking her as I flipped open the book. "It just means you get all of the best opportunities in life; the best housing, the best job availabilities. It doesn't make you this amazing person, it just means you could be."

Aria cooed sarcastically, collapsing once more in the seat across from me. "How philosophical of you."

Flipping open the faded cover, I lifted the book to my nose and inhaled the euphoric smell of the title page — the stained scent of perfume causing me to remember the times my older sister would thumb through the pages, relaying the story with animated expressions.

What realistically had only been years, felt like centuries since I had seen Melissa. I couldn't bare to imagine what it would be like if I left; the familiar pain of our family becoming even smaller.

***

The journey to the city felt abnormally longer, as though we were stuck in a never-ending loop. If it weren't for the perfect stillness of the moving vehicle, the bile rising in my throat would have surely already arisen.

As I skimmed mindlessly through the pages, Aria had taken to reclining her seat and falling into an effortless slumber — the occasional quiet snore escaping her slack jaw.

I had always envied her infallible ability to fall asleep, though it did often land the redhead in trouble — especially when she would fall out of her seat in classes, only to awake on the ground with a teacher looming over her.

Moving the receipt I used as a makeshift bookmark, I gently closed my book and peered at the watch by my bedside and then glanced out the window. It was mid-morning now and the sky had become tenebrous; the sun shadowed by clouds that poured rain.

I wondered what my siblings would be doing now. I wasn't sure about Melissa, but I knew my younger sister, Florence, would barely be awake by now. She had a tendency to sleep in till the sun began to set, and then prowl around the house, weary-eyed, in search of food. She was like a woman possessed only by hunger; constantly checking the fridge and finding nothing of interest, only to return moments later with renewed hope.

I snorted to myself, drawing my knees up to my chest and resting the book on the slim windowsill.

"You're still awake?" Aria murmured, her tired voice slurring the words into a near unintelligible sentence. My head lulled to the side, meeting her half-lidded eyes.

"Unfortunately." I sighed, gesturing to her dismissively. "Go back to sleep, I'll wake you when we're closer."

Groaning as I stretched out my aching limbs, I quietly rose to my feet — silently adventuring down the walkway on weary legs. My boots quietly padded against the carpet, forming a slow but steady rhythm that kept me awake.

"Hey stranger." Folding my arms over my chest, I spared a glance over my shoulder to see who was talking to me. Sitting perfectly upright, one leg folded over the other, was the hooded man from the train station. His hood, however, was now pushed back; revealing a man with a dark olive complexion and sunken green eyes. "Trying to escape?"

"Oh, totally, just debating how exactly I could survive flinging myself off of a train."

He laughed, "So... I'm guessing you can't sleep."

"I don't know how anyone can," I admitted softly, turning fully to face him, "How are people not..."

"Scared?" He supplied, shrugging as I hummed in agreement, "I suppose they realize there's no way out of it, so best to just get it over with."

"Isn't that awful though?" I continue, arching a brow, "That we're conditioned to it?"

"Well, some people have been used it longer than others. Welcome to the fight for basic human privilege—" he gestures to himself— "I'm Malik Ahmed. Pleasure." He extends an arm, and his grip is firm and calloused when I slip my palm within his to shake his hand.

"I'm Pearl Damocles," I offer a small smile, "You're on your own?"

He shrugs with a playful smile. "Well..." he trails off, lazily gesturing to me, "Not anymore."

I chuckle, taking the empty seat across from him after he gestures for me to sit. Folding my legs, I feel his eyes following my movements closely. "Don't you find this all a little... unfair?" I enquire timidly, hesitant to say the words aloud in fear of who could be listening.

"Unfair?"

My eyes dart around to the unconscious young adults around us, before I lean towards Malik — watching him do the same. "You know, the segregation of people? Purely because of something as fickle as blood."

"It's been done before," Malik shrugged, "Before blood there was skin, before skin there was riches."

"But doesn't that bother you?" I enquire, clearing my throat in realization. "This is probably... yeah, I mean we just met—"

Malik's soft laugh interjected my ramblings, "It's fine. I... agree, Ms Damocles. But, you know, be careful who you tell that to — nowadays opinions like those are considered dangerous."

Suddenly, a robotic voice spits from the speakers overhead; informing the passengers of the next impending stop. I take that as my cue to leave, and rise from my seat. "I've gotta go," I smile softly, unsure what to say next, "I... well, good luck, I guess."

Malik smiled, gently tugging on my cardigan as I slipped past. "Just... be careful. No rebellion is worth a sword dangling over your head."

___

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