The Rebel (#Wattys2016)

54. Brother

This late chapter's dedicated to Aprilflower14 for voting and commenting! Sorry about the delay. Enjoy!

Tap, tap, tap.

Adeen opened her eyes, closing them less than a second later. In the middle of her forehead, right above the spot between her eyebrows, a drop of water splashed on her bloody skin. It's residues stayed there for a second, then ran down her right forehead when more drops joined it. The water wet the dried blood, and Adeen groaned. The constant dropping gelt like someone was tapping her forehead.

Tap, tap, tap.

Adeen moaned, and as she became aware of herself once again, somebody set her body on fire. Hundred scars and wounds revealed her broken mess of a body, and Adeen screamed, but even her expression of agony ached. Her legs burned. Her arms burned. She groaned once again with a new wave of pain, tears unwillingly escaping her eyes. Her whole self burned. Faraway outside her cell, some voices spoke with each other.

Tap, tap, tap.

The fingers still tapped her forehead, warning her to listen to the voices outside her door. As more tears escaped her closely shut eyes and she screamed in agony once more, she felt her grip on reality loosening. The voices suddenly sounded farther away, and then Adeen felt as if the earth was swallowing her head first.

Tap, tap, tap.

~

Prince Skander stood besides the metal door that sealed the bunker shut. The bunker was an old one, built by pre-Illeans, when there were still soldiers waging world wars and there were no castes. Its origins were evident everywhere, in the beds that were to rough and small, in the maps filled with long gone nations populated by long gone people, in the pictures of dead world leaders, presidents and prime ministers. The soldiers all hated those memories. The last three hundred and fifty six soldiers of Illea complained all day that their backs and necks ached. They tore the maps to pieces and laughed at the portraits of the world leaders. Even the higher Officials seemed to hate everything that had to do with the pre-Illea world, but not Skander. No, Prince Skander was delighted to be surrounded by new, surprising objects. He could almost smell them, the smell of an era past. In the middle of the despair and the nightmares, he knew he could leave his room and walk for hours in the halls, find new rooms. He would walk and walk and walk, and for the first time of his life he didn't need to tell someone where he was going, or put up with his father, or sign piles of paperwork. He would just find a new room, look around for interesting objects, and sit on the floor while examining them.

Right now, his blue eyes focused on what looked like a big cellphone. It was slightly bigger than Skander's hands and white. The screen was black and in the back there was an apple. Skander frowned and pressed the circular button in the front, but, as was the case of most pre-Illean gadgets, it remained dead.

"We're still trying to get enough men. Of course, it's been hard. But we'll get there, eventually."

Skander looked up at his brother, who stood, leaning on the doorway. He had bags under his eyes and his brown hair was messy. Prince Jasper sighed and ran a hand through his hair and stopped at his neck. His fingers massaged his neck, trying to rub away the pain of too many hours tense, a pain Skander knew too well.

"You're seriously going to give me the cold shoulder?" He asked, and when Skander didn't answer, Jasper stood up straighter and opened his eyes wide, his face a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "It was for one moment! I am trying to get some people together and get them out of there!"

Skander looked up at him. With his messy black hair and bloodshot blue eyes, he looked like a picture of a maniac. He sat on the middle of a bunk room, cross legged, with a wrinkled white shirt and some army pants.