Selected of Illèa-A Selection Fanfiction

11

Julie's POV

I sit up, aching and hungry. It's the first time I've sat up for days. The cuts covering me scream with pain as I find my way across the room. I'm to weak to walk, so I just crawl across the cement floor.

I open my mouth to speak to the guard, and begin coughing. I can't stop. I just cough and cough, taking in small breaths in between. The young guard looks at me nervously as I continue coughing. I don't stop, but now, I'm shaking as I cough, almost unable to breath.

After several horrid minutes of coughing and shaking, it finally dies down. The guard brings me some broth in a cup, which I drink eagerly. It's cold, so probably left over from something.

I turn to the guard and, as loud as I can, I croak, "What day is it?" It comes out softer than a whisper. I drink more broth to soothe my throat and try again. "What day is it?" I say a bit louder. The young guard, unsure if he can answer or not, hesitates. Eventually, he replies, "December 10th." I do simple math in my head, and now this is my tenth day here. As I said, simple math because I got kidnapped on December 1st.

"Commander Laryn wants me to, uh, tell you the, uh, ransom exchange is in five days," he stutters. As an afterthought he adds on, "You were out for five days, before today." Wow. That's more than I thought. Then again, I was out cold for a couple of days. Most likely. I'm not really sure as I was out.

Laryn comes in the room. I restrain from groaning. She's a devil in a fancy business dress and manicured nails. I loathe her, which is saying a lot because I'm pretty accepting and I give second chances. Her eyes survey me, much like she did the first time I saw her. I look down and quickly regret. Cuts and bruises covered my whole body and my dress hung to my body limply, ripped and tattered. I look up, revolted at the sight to meet the spot where I had laid for a long time. It was a dried pool of blood that was stretched far beyond where my body was and was more than a thin layer. I held back from getting sick.

Laryn cackled maliciously as she saw my haggard appearance. "You are quite the eyesore, aren't you. These cuts really ruined your innocent never-hurt-a-fly look. I notice you've lost quite a bit of weight," she glanced at the floor, "and blood. Not that it matters. In five days, you won't be my problem anymore. But you will be to my benefit. They are practically handing us weapons to attack them with! It's quite the arrangement," Laryn rambled, an evil glint in her eye. She waved wickedly and left the room, her five inch heels clicking on the concrete.

I took another sip of the broth, before my shaking hands dropped the plastic bowl. My eyes followed the spilled broth to the puddle of blood. My stomach couldn't take it and I threw up what little I had in my stomach.

***

I woke up on the bed with a different blanket then the one I threw up on. The floor was scrubbed and no sign of my blood could be found, except on my body. The woman guard came and grabbed me roughly. She pulled me to the room where I was to quickly shower. She pointed out a black t-shirt dress for me to put on after the shower. It's got short sleeves and reaches almost to my knees.

I look in the mirror as I'm about to get in the shower. My cheeks are sunken and my ribs more prominent. Cuts and bruises everywhere I can see. My hair looking frail, but still thick and long as ever. That is what is most reminiscent about my appearance.

I did as told and scrubbed myself, despite how weak and injured I still was. I pained me to stand and walk. I dressed in the dress, which reached just past my knees. It was actually a soft material which almost soothed the cuts. No shoes this time, which I'm fine with.

I was lead back to the concrete room where I was thrown upon the bed. My head hit the wall and I went in and out of focus, memories blending with life.

Age 10

Jason clutches my hand as we stand in black at our friend's funeral. I hide my teary face, as he was a best friend to me. His death so tragic, as it was self inflicted. I will never forget you, Joseph, I promise him as they lower his coffin in the ground.

Age 12

Mom cries into my dad's shoulder as she has just lost another child. This is her fifth miscarriage. I sit on the steps with my siblings, hugging them for support just as they are hugging me. Jason dries my tears and let's me know it okay. Kaitlyn's tears stain my shirt as she cries into my shoulder.

Rebel guards surround me, blurred and hazy. I close my eyes again. I welcome the people I hold most dear.

Age 16

Ashlie tells me about her scars. They cover her back. Her father's belt has hit her when he's angry or drunk. Tears run down her face and I try to comfort her. How do I know how to help her? What can I offer to one of the wealthiest in the country?

Age 17

Grandpa slips from the world, his frail old age finally stopping him in his sleep. He's 76. I remember him bouncing me on his knee when I was young and telling stories of adventure as I got older. The treehouse he built for me and Jason, now a memorial to the kind soul who has passed on.

I'm pulled out of my memories. Strengthened by those I've held most dear. I take in the faces surrounding me. I despise each and every one of them. They have held me, cut me, bound me and for what? Power. I nearly spit in their faces, but instead, I keep my cool. I struggle to sit up, but I manage it. As soon as I do, they know I'll probably be fine, but the one that is keeping watch keeps an extra eye on me.

The guard quickly leaves the room as alarms sound. He leaves the door open. I crawl towards it and see everyone is already ahead of it, heading towards where the attack is. The entrance. I stand feebly and clutching to the walls, walk towards where they are. I see fighting and sunlight. I haven't seen this in ten days. I cover my eyes and walk towards it. Everyone is occupied in battle, they don't see me stumbling out of the place that has held me.

Outside I see another group of palace soldiers racing towards the entrance. Me feet ache from walking and I crumble to the ground. I begin crawling, trying to get far away from that place. My attempts fail and I lay helplessly. I feel someone lift me up. This is not a rebel.

"Miss Canterbury, I'm Officer Leger. I'm taking you back to the palace, okay?" he tells me. I nod weakly and wince with his every step. He hands me to another soldier with black hair and blue eyes and that soldier lays me in a military van on some blankets. Too exhausted to move, I simply close my eyes and sleep. The last thought that passes through my mind is: finally.