Have you ever been through an image of you're being in an apocalyptic travel with some zombies and this kinda think of and did you have an imagination or a dream that you're fighting your way through to find a cure out of it and make your own story...
Ofelia is frantic when I finally get home. It's about two the next morning and she's waiting up, having slept none from anxiety.
"They just barged in here, tearing the place up and then they went in your room, digging about until they found that thing in your closet! What were you doing with it?"
I feel anesthetized, unable to move, barely breathing so it seems. "I didn't know it was anything important."
"Where did you get it?"
"Who cares!" I'm hot-tempered, I know, but I've been asked this so many times today I feel I will pop if pricked with the question one more time. I'm surprised however, that Ofelia doesn't scold me or ask any thing else. I assumed like Reese she would say how illegal it is or something. It seems Ofelia doesn't even know.
"Reese told me it was black market, to grow plants."
"Who's Reese?"
"Oh, just a Guard. He's the one who called for my release." I know this is enough to say but I can't help but go on. It's as if I want to talk about it more, not forget it. "The way he talks, he seems very high up on the government ladder. Always saying he can do this or that if you don't give him what he wants."
"People like that," Ofelia grunts, "should never be trusted. They're pleased with you until you do something that ticks 'em off. Then you had better watch out."
"Yeah, I guess you're right." Although I've slept more than eleven hours in the jail cell, I find myself lugging back to my bedroom where everything is in tatters. I don't bother to clear off my bed but lie down on the twisted sheets, slips of paper and mismatched clothes. I don't fall asleep right away however, I only find I can think back to the scene of my release and all the things Reese tried and failed to explain to me:
"Black market?" I'd yelled. "I have no idea what you mean."
"It's a line of trade where people buy and sell things illegally."
"Is it a place?"
Reese narrowed his eyes and didn't answer. "I suggest you leave," he did say. "Before someone comes and complicates things further, or I change my mind," he added for good measure.
I stood up. "I already told you. I'm not leaving without Griffin's release." I tried to sound firm and resolute but I knew it came out in a barely audible whimper.
Reese turned his head and walked out. Following him I was surprised to see that the door didn't shut by surprise in a cruel joke. Once outside in the hall, Reese held the door of the elevator shaft open and I stepped inside but instead of going up to the main level it went down, stopping at Griffin's level. I dared to look at Reese's face but it was still as immovable as ever.
He leads me to the door but doesn't scan his face; merely punches in a few numbers and the door clicks open.
Turing to me Reese mutters, "You have ten more minutes with the prisoner to...explain. After that it's your choice if you stay or go."
He discretely moves to the side and I charge in throwing myself at Griffin once more, whispering to him my confessions about the plant, news of the black market and the choice I have to stay with him or go. He pleads for me to go and I can't decide, not there and then. Before I know it ten minutes is gone and I'm forced to tare myself from Griffin and can feel the tears streaming down my face, worried what they'll do to him again once I'm gone. Perhaps I can stay, to protect him. I turn and see Reese glance away from where his eyes were locked on my tear stained cheeks. I think I see him frown, eyes clouded over with some emotion I don't recognize and he shuts the door.
I'm still wondering if I made the right decision. That's all life is, isn't it? An infinity of decisions. Unchangeable decisions.
*
Ofelia won't let me out of the house now, after she heard about Griffin and I and all the trouble we've caused. "I don't want you to get hurt or caught up in whatever that boy has behind his back." Oh sure, now Griffin's a threat? Her answer to this was no more going outside. I might find another plant, or worse.
I glance out the window and stare at the sky, grey as usual. I try to wipe away the clouds and imagine a blue sky, like the one Ofelia mentions often from years before. I find I can't but sadly am not disappointed by this fact.
I stand up, brush the dust off my pants from digging under my bed and stand up with a groan. My arm hurts still from my time in the jail sell. I think I slept on it wrong and it's not letting up. My bedroom is finally free from it's clutter of the guards invasion (invasion being what it felt like from my perspective). No more ratty clothes in the floor, but in the hole in the wall I call a closet. No more empty wrappers on the nightstand, no more cobwebs in the sheets I use as curtains. It actually resembles a room now and not a storage unit.
I head out to the kitchen and rumble around for something to eat. Nothing sparks my interest, because I'm not hungry really, just bored. I eat when I'm bored, like most people. And if there happens to be cake around I'll eat the whole thing until I'm about to toss my cookies. But that has nothing to do with anything, I suppose. You don't want to hear about me tossing any cookies so, moving on.
I wonder where Ofelia's gone and glance around the living room and walking back down the hall check the bathroom and her bedroom. Nowhere to be seen I check the back yard where she might be digging up bones for one of her readings and then check the front porch last where she sometimes sits and drinks her strange concoctions.
She's officially nowhere to be seen.
I shrug this off casually and ignore the insistent blaring notice in my brain announcing, "you're free, you idiot! Run! Live!". Instead I calmly sit down on the sofa and flip the television on. We only get three channels, two of which are news stations; one local, the other national. The third channel is photography slides with music in the background. I flip through all three of them about a dozen times before landing on the photography slideshow. The pictures are off several white-washings and the finished fences, very picturesque, I have to admit. But there are a few random ones of red balloons, smoke out of chimneys and two people pressed together on a deserted street corner.
Although the last picture is gone in a flash, I find it's burned harshly into my memory. Dangerously close to scandalous, I find myself gawking at the image even though I've seen the likes in reality more than a few dozen times. Young girls and boys, desperate for affection in a world where they'll die before they ever have a chance at real love. Real life.
I call it 'real love' because to me, that picture isn't love. It's just desperation, a defiance to experience before the darkness sweeps them away. I taste salt on my lips and know I'm crying but glance from the television and my reflection therein. I'm sad, yes, but not because I feel that need; that hunger to know. It is defiance, however, because this makes me mad. This world that won't let us live. Give us time to learn and grow. It's forcing us to mature before we're ready. I continue to silently fume, and with the obnoxiously sad music and images burned on my memory, I turn the television off quickly. I know what I feel. I know it and don't admit it to myself.
With a grumbling noise, my stomach reminds me that the world is still spinning and no melancholy meditation is going to allow a revolution to pass in silence. I laugh slightly at the irony of this and stand up from the couch to feed my weakness. I decide it's no use going through the cup[boards again so I walk quietly and slowly to the basement staircase. Grabbing the handle I expect to be met with darkness but find the door... ...is locked.
I scream. Well, it's more of a yell mixed with curses I'd actually never vocalize, though I think them frequently. I'm angry because I'm hungry and there's food down there and it is beyond my reach. Then I compose myself and think.
No, I'm angry because it's locked. Locked. A door locked that has never been locked before. And that's not the entirety of it.
It can only be locked from the inside. I'm breathless, maybe because I stood up from the sofa too fast but I'm not sure. I don't bang on the door. I don't shout at it anymore but I stop, think and wait. If Ofelia's down there, it's logical to knock and ask to be let it. But it doesn't explain why she'd lock it. I fumble at the handle again in hopes I'd been mistaken before, but no avail.
Suddenly, I'm not thinking anymore but rush at the door and kick it from the side. It makes a horrific sound and pain shoots through my leg and out my finger tips. A rational person would wait for the pain to subside before making any further attacks but as I'm sure you've noticed by now, I am not a rational person. I step as far back against the opposite wall as I can and this time run as fast as I can and hurl my entire body at the door. It does give way this time, in splinters and a horrific noise, as well as my left arm.
I forgot about the stairs, I think, as I tumble down into not darkness, but light. I see candles all around me but when I hit the floor it all vanishes.
I manage to stand back up and can't see a thing. My knees buckle weakly under my weight and I notice a soft glow coming before my eyes. I remember candles and wonder if I've barged in on one of Ofelia's readings. I feel a graining substance under my fingers and realize I'm lying on the floor. Only then do I remember tumbling down the stairs, my hurt arm and hitting my head.
My eyes begin to adjust to the light and I'm met with not a few burning candles but a blazing fire. I tire to push myself up but scream in pain as I put pressure on my arm. It's not bruised, that I know now for sure. It's definitely broken. I begin to panic. If Ofelia's not home I have no way of getting out of here and I feel the heat swell all around my and watch in terror, unable to remove my eyes from the sight of fire crawling it's way up my left leg.
I panic and start to breath too fast, smoke filling my lungs faster than I can exhale. I know what I should do. I should try to breath slowly and crawl my way to the exit. I begin to do just that but right as I reach the bottom of the stair, tears welling in my eyes from either the smoke or the pain, a support beam crashes in my path.
It's a nightmare, is the only thought I have, over and over. I know there's another way out of here but I can't move. I'm too tired, too weak.
Then amidst the fire and smoke I see a pair off eyes glinting at my in the light. I try to make some sort of noise but can't. I only think that someone's found me and I'll get out alive.
But the eyes don't move. They don't come closer or even blink. I think I've imagined it when I feel two warm hands slip under my shoulders and begin to drag me slowly across the room. I watch the eyes still and feel my resolve falter as my eyes begin to close. The smoke is too thick, I think. I can't...
Then a rush of cool air hits my face and I feel pebbles beneath my skin. I gasp in new air and open my eyes wide for the first time.
Above, there sits a girl, and next to her, a boy.
I know I've seen them before, but can't remember where. The first thing that strikes me is how young they are. Then I know.
The runaways.
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Well, that's all for it for today's chapter story and I hope you guys all like it... and if you did, don't forget to smash that Vote Button at the top right corner right there. Leave some comments down below and let me see of what you think about the story and also this chapter... but, thank you all guys for reading and as always what I said, oh bye there...
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