In the Middle

Chapter Thirteen

The rest of the night, Lance and I sat on his bed and did nothing in particular. Lance had put his mother's old reading glasses on. He didn't need them but I knew it made him feel closer to her. He told me about how he discovered camp and how strangely his first week of camp went. Even on one of my worst days, he made me laugh uncontrollably. For hours we talked and for hours neither of us brought up the previous night. So Lance kept it light, shouldering most of the conversation. I just smiled, laughed, nodded and gave short responses. When I would quiet and back out of my job of replying, Lance would ask me questions. They were strange questions like, "What's your middle name?" To which my reply was, "No idea, what's yours?" And Lance would politely answer and ask another question. Now was one of those times where I faded out of conversation, I was too busy thinking about everything.

"Starr?" I glanced up.

"Yes?"

"You still there?"

"Yes." I straightened. "Sorry."

"It's alright." But it wasn't. Here Lance was, making an effort when he didn't have to. Then there was me, barely lifting a finger. "Mind if I ask you something? Something more serious." I was about to say that I minded but I reminded myself to make an effort.

"No, I don't mind."

"What happened last night?" His voice was small like he feared asking it. "What were you so afraid of?"

"Myself." Lance furrowed his eyebrows and got a concerned look. I didn't want him to be concerned for me, and all of a sudden, I didn't feel like saying a word. "I'm afraid of the person I am. Manipulative and cruel. I'm scared of what I can do, of what I would do."

"You save people. That's nothing to be afraid of."

"Don't you see? I wouldn't have to save people if I didn't put them in bad situations." I got off of his bed and headed toward the door. I was not having this conversation again. No one understood, they still thought I was a good person. I flung the door open and started for my cabin. When I got to it, I slammed the door and leaned against it. I looked up at the ceiling. "Why do I have to be me?" What use was it? Asking the gods? As if they would respond. I found my knife and slit the dress down the side. I hurriedly changed into regular jeans and camp t-shirt. I grabbed the small box of matches from inside the drawer of my nightstand. Gathering the dress into my arms, I set off toward the woods. As soon as I found a clearing I threw the dress onto the ground. After opening the box of matches, I slid one along the side of the box and it caught fire. I flung the match onto the dress and watched it set the thing ablaze. It was a satisfying sight. I sat a distance away from the fire, close enough to keep an eye on the fire, and slowly unraveled the braided bun until my long hair was set free. The braid had left waves in my hair, making it frizzy. I groaned, this was one problem I really didn't need right now. I put my hair up to keep it out of my face and examined the dress burning until it was nothing but a pile of ash and a collection of small flames. I kicked them out so it wouldn't spread and stormed back to camp. I was furious. Of course all the recent occurrences were my fault but with accepting that fact, I saw that I wasn't the only one to blame. Luna. She and her stupid Rebel Camp were not going to hurt any more campers, including me. I headed to the infirmary and collected my bow and quiver. I would have to make myself more arrows. I rushed towards the archery range, hatred in my heart. After taking a quiver out of the shed, I took a moment to calm myself. I notched an arrow and sent it flying toward the center of the target. I paid no attention to whether the arrow hit its mark as I was pacing down the line of targets, firing arrows at each one. I knocked another arrow and pulled back the string. I heard a whistling sound and moved in time for a knife to fly pass my head and hit the target a few yards in front of me. I whipped around to see Quinn standing there smirking, more knives in his hand. I aimed my arrow at his head.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk." Quinn made a move to step forward but I wouldn't let him catch me off guard. I released the string, firing an arrow at his foot. It skimmed his shoe just like I meant it to. A warning shot. I loaded another arrow and aimed at his face once more. He put his hands up, dropping his knives. A wicked grin lay plastered on his face. "Getting a little rusty, aren't we?"

"Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be visiting your mother? What would she say about you trying to kill an innocent girl?" At this, his smile disappeared turning into a snarl.

"You're not innocent." He kept stepping forward.

"You make one more move and I won't be friendly this time. You know I won't miss."

"Oh, I don't doubt it." I heard something behind me but figured it was Lance coming after me. Quinn took another step toward me.

"Don't make me shoot you!"

"You couldn't bring yourself to kill me."

"I'll do it!"

"Go ahead." But I didn't have time. Someone was covering my head with some sort of bag. I fought to be free but my legs were swept out from under me. I let out a scream before I was being smothered by the bag that remained over my head. My oxygen quickly ran out and everything was slowly darkening until I saw nothing but darkness.