The Mindless Man's Paradise

Chapter seventy-three

The following months became routine. Each month came easier than the last, and before I knew it, I had been at the cottage for ten months, give or take.

  Cyrus had taught me proper grammar, and even how to write in cursive. I began to write short stories for sport, usually sitting outside to accompany Cyrus as he worked in the fields.

  Together, Cyrus and I had even figured out how to make paint from berries, and certain types of dirt, and we learned to paint together. It came easily to Cyrus, layering colors was the only new skill he had to learn, whereas I had to start from scratch; learning different strokes, and finding new ways to look at the world.

 “Art isn’t supposed to be perfect.” Cyrus had once told me. “Art is your interpretation of something. For example, I choose to find beauty in simple, everyday things. Such as the trees, the sky, the flowers.”

  It turned out that Kian was quite the musician. He owned a very ancient guitar, and one night we had crowded around a campfire singing melodies to the beautiful sounds he created.

  This was the light at the end of my tunnel. I had thought to myself.

  What could be better than living in harmony with nature; creating things, loving people, and laughing all the time?

  Nothing. Nothing was better than that.

  It was one night when we were sitting around the table for dinner that the atmosphere changed for the first time in a long time.

  We were eating some venison that Cyrus and I had hunted for ourselves, when a knock came upon the door.

  At first, we thought it might be the wind, or a tree branch hitting the door, so we ignored it.

  But when another round of knocks came, we all froze mid-bite. Each one of us made apprehensive eye contact with one another, because nobody ever knocked at the door. Ever.

  Not since I had arrived for the first time, months and months before I had even met any of them. No one had a reason to knock. The five of us each had a set of keys, and nobody else even knew we existed.

  “Who should answer it?” I whispered.

  Everyone shrugged their shoulders.

  “Should we even answer it to begin with?” asked Kian.

  Once again, everyone shrugged. Except for me.

  “I definitely think we should answer it.” I paused. “I’ll do it.”

  I got up, went to the kitchen, and fished a knife from one of the drawers. I slipped it in the waistband of my pants, careful to obscure it from view.

 I passed the kitchen table again, and as I did, Cyrus grabbed my arm. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

  Nodding, I shook his hand from my wrist, and continued the walk to the door. From here, everyone at the table could see me, so I wasn’t at all worried about not having any backup. After months with these people, I knew we would all take a bullet for any one of each other if it came to it. Yes, even Jensen and I had grown to like one another. Once he had taught me to hunt, our bond became almost unbreakable.

  My hand outstretched to the door handle, where it shakily turned it and pulled the door open.

  I cracked the door open only a few inches, so that whoever stood outside couldn’t get in.

  The man standing outside wore all red, and was waiting patiently until he saw me. He was obviously from the Society, as made apparent by his wardrobe. But as to why he was at the cottage, I had no idea.