Inception

Chapter 2

            I wake in a bed but it’s not mine. The sheets are light, my head cushioned by possibly the softest pillow in existence. I scan the room, navy blue walls and a desk with a thousand monitors on it. I knew in an instant where I was. Elian’s room.

            I had only been in here twice when we first met. It all seemed so different. Last night felt like a dream, my nightmare. I had the same clothes on, my shoes propped sadly next to the doorway.

            Elian steps into the room, dressed in a plaid button down and jeans. He balances a tray of food in his hands, the aroma very tempting. But I wasn’t in the mood to eat. He places the tray on the desk and sits on the edge of the bed.

            It looked like he had been crying, his eyes a frightening red. He bends down, his lips grazing my forehead just barely.

            A tear forms in the corner of my eye, which I quickly push away. Elian lay beside me, looking at the ceiling as if it were the sky, a distant escape. I stayed silent, just as I always did. I felt the need to cry, to grieve, to mourn, to feel. And that feeling sucked.

            “Hey,” I say, searching for words like I had just learned to speak. It was hopeless in my eyes.  But everything felt so far away. I was in my own world now. My sad, pathetic little world.

            Elian takes me in his arms, his form of sympathy, always had been. I shy away, feeling safer with him. I hear him mutter something that I was probably supposed to. Anything Elian said seemed to have some type of importance. So I just went with a grunt-nod.

            “Your brothers are coming home,” Elian whispers. Whisper like a child telling a secret, the most important thing in the world. I looked up at him, looked into his eyes.

            “You mean brother,” I correct. “Singular. Thomas died three years ago,” I add quietly, frustrated that Elian didn’t remember. “Oh.” Is all he says.

            I do not speak to him. The room is silent, filled with look-at-me-I’m-an-orphan-now. I stared into nothing, the nothingness seeming like the only thing keeping me from going over the edge.

g

            The story was in every newspaper and Elian seemed to have been subscribed to all of them. I couldn’t turn the TV on, I didn’t want to see how many people acted liked they cared about my parents. That was just bs.

            “You okay?” he asks. Now that was a rhetorical question. Elian of all things to ask, it’s if I’m okay. “Elian,” I breathe. “My parents and brother are dead and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

            “I’m sorry, Kyra,” he says. The look in his eyes said differently. “I really am.” He reaches for me, a sign of comfort, refuge. I pull away, even Elian not being enough; not this time.

            “Look. I just need to be alone,” I say, standing from the barstool in which he forced me to sit in. I felt dirty, the lightness that seemed all too familiar had left me, just like everyone that I loved. As I take a step towards the door, Elian grabs my arm.

            “Where will you go?” he asks. Elian was worried about me, it showed in his eyes. My heart ached, as if it already hadn’t. I hated seeing him like this, vulnerable. But I was as vulnerable as a zebra is to a lion; as good as dead.

            “I just really need to get out,” I say, slowly leaving his side and out the door into the hot sun. I felt lost, like always. This time I walked on the sidewalk, feeling stares burning my skin as I continued. I was practically alone, left for dead, and I had to accept that as a fact.

g

            “Kyra!” someone calls. I was tired of hearing my name from people. I just wanted to be alone and get some peace but that seems to damn difficult for people to get the memo. I glare slightly behind me, finding possibly the peppiest person known to man. Cassidy Melissa Owens. She runs over, her perfect blonde hair flailing in the air. She steps to my side, searching for my response.

            “Hey Cass,” I mutter, feeling the need to scream at her to leave me alone. That’s all I wanted; to be alone. But I guess I’ll have to be a little more patient.

            “I’m-“ she starts. I hold my hand up, stopping her. She looks surprised, Kyra the wallflower silencing the almighty Princess Cassidy. “You don’t need to be sorry. Just don’t, it’s a waste of your time.” Cassidy stares at me, scanning my repulsive face like everyone else had.

            “God, Kyra, why do you have to do that all the time?” she snaps. Now I was surprised; Cassidy Owens losing her cool. Utterly priceless. “Do what?” I respond. Cassidy was the exception to the no-talking-I-want-to-be-alone mood.

            “Be so goddamn depressed about everything!” she shouts, throwing her arms up. She straightens her shirt and smoothes her hair. Now she’s done yelling, she made that clear. “I’m not depressed,” I contradict. “I’m just in mourning.”

            I push past her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll do just that,” I say, feeling victorious as I see her jaw drop. Over my shoulder I say one last thing, ”It was nice running into you Cassidy.” Guess nobody’s as perfect as we perceive them to be.

            I walk through town, watching the glances and mutters scatter as I pass. I walk into the diner watching a crowd of heads turning to look at me. I walk to the counter where the waitress, Maxine, reaches out and touches my arm. I force my most believable fake smile in response to her comforting gesture.

            “What’ll it be today, Ky?” she asks. I looked into Max’s eyes, a shimmering blue that glowed on her pale skin. Her hair was a complexity of midnight waves that looked blue under the light. She was a head taller than me, her figure like a doll’s; perfect. But what amazed me the most was how overnight, the whole town knew who I was. All for the wrong reasons, obviously.

            “I need information,” I say confidently. “And I need a lot of it.” Maxine looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. I’m sure I did, just didn’t want to accept it yet.

            Maxine told me everything. Some stuff I didn’t want to hear, some just hard to process. They caught the man who killed my family. A man by the name of Christopher Hawkins. Why did he do it? Was it because my father was a supporter of the government? Was it because my mother helped approve the Trials? Was it because my brother was so perfect and happy? Maybe I’ll never know. Maybe I shouldn’t know. But knowing will be the only closure I get. I just needed a way to get it before the Trials.

            What are the Trials you may ask. Let me say it determines your life, or your death. It’s the thing that no child wants to take part in. It’s a series of tests that will see how worthy you are. Worthy is such a misleading word. It’s more like how idiotic you are. Now there is a clear line separating bravery and idiocy and most people fall in the idiocy category. Idiotic. As in, there’s no way out but death. Your choice.

            My brother, Thomas, was killed during the Trials. He took a knife for the girl who I recognized as the girl he loved since the fifth grade. Pathetic. Did my parents break down about losing their son? No. They showed no emotion. That’s how we were raised. To convey no feeling, feel absolutely nothing.

            It’s kind of silly if you think about it. How does she love Elian? Well you should know that’s the reason why I was so different. I was able to feel, I just controlled it better. But maybe that’s why people kept staring at me: they saw how unstable I was.

            “Thanks, Max,” I say, leaving five bucks and a piece of spearmint gum, Max’s favourite. “But you didn’t eat anything,” she shouts after me, holding the money in the air, sneaking the gum into her apron. “You keep it,” I say, turning to exit the doors.

            I got information. I got a plan. I got a time frame. Now what the hell am I supposed to do?