T O O F A R G O N E
[ B O O K O N E ]
❛ and i can feel my
every breath unfold. ❜
Ninety-seven years after the destruction of a nuclear war that wiped out almost the entire human race, survivors are faced with yet another...
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TWO YEARS. One month. Two days.
That's how long Iris Warren had been living inside a rusted, old, metal cell with John Murphy.
They sat on opposite sides of the room, each never muttering a word. Sure, they had small, simple, meaningless conversations every now and again, but most of the time they were accompanied by almost silence.
Almost, meaning Iris sitting in a void of sound, the familiar hum of the Ark ringing in her ears as she watched Murphy, studying him to the very last detail. She had a mission to see right through him, to understand the mystery of betrayal that made up the seemingly emotionless mess of Jonathan Murphy.
It took awhile, almost nine painfully slow months, but she finally cracked the code that opened up the caged heart that he kept locked up deep down inside his chest.
It was a normal night. Dark, quiet, awkwardly emotionless.
Iris was sprawled out atop of her lumpy cot, both arms slung behind her head as a pillow. Murphy sat casually on his bed, the gears in his head turning with great vindictiveness. And the buzzing of the Ark obnoxiously sitting in the sidelines, making every criminal in the skybox want to bash their heads into a wall.
Everything was normal. The same tall, male guard with the slight stubble growing along his jawline came in with two trays of barely enough food to feed a baby, let alone two growing teenagers. He handed the meals over to both prisoners, Murphy giving him a remorseless scowl, whereas Iris thanked him with a smile.
She had a bad habit of giving people the benefit of doubt, even if there wasn't a chance in hell that they deserved it. After all, this particular guard had been coming since the day she got locked up, and every evening when he brought her food, he gave her a smile in return. Maybe it was a smile of pity, maybe he genuinely was a good man with a warm heart, maybe smiling to prisoners was a part of his job as a guardsman. Either way, she smiled. Not because she was happy, she was far from that, but because she had hope that not everyone was as cold as her mother, hope that not everyone affected by the chancellors actions was full of hatred and vengeance.
Once the guard had left the room, it returned to the torturous bearer of silence. John began eating furiously, stuffing the probably stale piece of bread into his mouth. Iris, however, kept a disgustful gaze with the food placed in front of her. She rarely ate, her stomach grew nauseated at the slighted sight of anything the guards would bring.
