I Will Be Strong

#4

"AVERY!" she heard again. But this time, it was not from the depths of her imagination. Someone was calling for her. She recognised that honey-sweet voice anywhere; Postea. She rounded the corner and realised that, in her reminiscing, she had led herself to the gallows. There she found Postea, rope around his neck, executioner on standby. Avery came to a halt in front of the gallows, her long hair whipping her face in the fierce winds. Once long and brown, it had since become a matted mess of grey tangles and dirt. Postea's, however, had perished under the harsh conditions of the prisons. He had barely any hairs left on his poor, sweet head and those that were bore no resemblance to their former golden glory.

Avery heard the footsteps of Synchoro rounding the corner and she started to run again. Onto the platform. Next to Postea. The executioner tried to pull the handle, put it was stuck. So many years of disuse, as her father favoured the axe for executions, had meant that the gallows barely worked. Cursing loudly, the executioner continued to pull at the lever, but he was wasting precious time. Avery had already pulled out her dagger, her weapon of choice, and began hacking away at the fraying rope. The rope finally snapped and Postea fell into her arms, his warm tears landing on her bare shoulder.

"I could've died, Avery," he whimpered; barely able to get the words out over his enormous sobs, "I could've died and I could've left you and I could be 50 feet underground and dying, but I'm not." He cried onto her shoulder, his heaving body a heavy weight even for her to bear. But she still comforted him.

"It's okay, I know. Don't you worry."

"I'm sorry Avery."

"Why would you be sorry, Postea? You mean so much to me. You," she had to take a deep breath before continuing, "you're the only real family I have left." Now tears were in her eyes too.

"No, I didn't mean that."

Avery gave him a puzzled, inquisitive look that motioned to him to continue.

"I wanted to see Poblivio again. If I couldn't be saved, I didn't mind the thought of dying. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I thought I could leave you and it would all be fine. I'm sorry. You would have been alone. I'm so sorry, Ave."

"Would you stop apologising already? Honestly, you'd think you're the only one who wants to go to the Land of the Corrupted. To see their loved ones again. Do you know how many times I've wanted to see Erinia again, or my mother?"

Postea looked like he wanted to say something, but she interrupted, "She has to be dead, Po. No-one could be on the run from my father and the Corrupted for 15 years and live to tell the tale."

Postea looked sympathetic for her, as though he didn't know what it felt like to lose a loved one. But he did, he had lost his twin brother, that was about as bad as it could get. Still, she felt the need to put his soul at rest,

"It's fine. I can't really remember her anyway," she lied, "it isn't sad to think about," another lie, "to be honest, I feel glad for her. Being out of this dreadful world." That was the truth. She remembered her mother as clearly as the light of day, and missed her more than anyone would ever know.

She hugged him tightly and let the world disappear around them. Let the pounding footsteps of Synchoro close in on them. Let the executioner finally give up on the lever and start to head menacingly towards them. The two friends simply stood, together as they had once been. Before the Corrupted came, before they had lost everything they ever held dear to them. Before the Resistance and the war and the murders. Before everything went wrong. Her father had always told her to live in the future, to think of the world of tomorrow. But Avery knew that the past was just as precious, and, every so often, she wasn't afraid to live in a day gone by.