SOJOURNER (III): tmr gally

08: I should be Violet

Ella 8

We are lying next to each other, on a bed with sheets too course for her delicate skin. It has been many years since I arrived, but only a few since we started sharing this room together. We've only lied like this recently, for far too short. It is our last night.

The room is cold, white, and sterile. I hate it here. It reminds me of the room I'd been in for years. Where they made me Emily. I don't know when they are sending me up, and I hate it. Perhaps, they won't send me up.

I got my wish though. I am a member of Group B. Someday soon, I will see her again.

"You're lucky you can see the boys at all," she looks sick. I guess it's the nerves that rack her body. Her hair is soft and warm though, and it is so long I can twirl it in my fingers without her even noticing. I wish she would notice though.

Instead she bites her lip. Due to the cold, it's tinged blue. Almost a violet.

I am not lucky to see him. "You don't know what he is like. What they are like. They torture me, you know. Both me and Eli."

"Yeah, but you see other boys too, don't you?" She asks. "Don't they want to send you up with their group?"

I hope not. Every night, I pray that I will escape them.

"They gave up on that. They still haven't made me forget my name," I tell her. "Just when I think they're done, they bring me in again for another week of testing. I have epilepsy now. I don't give a damn if they let me so Thomas every other week."

"Oh, please Em..."

"Don't call me that," I tell her flatly, sighing. I hate that for the first few years, they made this feel like a game of pretend. I could be Emily if they wanted me to be, but on my own I got to be me. I still know Emily's not my name, even if the one my mother gave me is slipping from my grasp. I won't be called Emily. I'd rather have a different name.

She brings her knees up into her chest, her hair sprawled along the bed behind her. She seems so small and lonely. I hate seeing her like this. I hate wanting her.

"They are taking us tomorrow," her voice cracks and creaks.

I don't think she realises she is saying goodbye to me as well. I am not going with her. They aren't done with me yet. They won't be for a long time.

"We will meet again, on the other side you know." I tell her, letting her think I am going with her. I don't want to disappoint her. She already has been damaged enough by this mess. Maybe my lies do more harm than good.

She nods, looking down. It was always her who was calm and caring, you know? Never me. This proves difficult, since I've already pretty much forgotten how to stop a girl from crying, or at a very minimum, how to speak.

"Yeah, but I won't..." she trails off, breathing in. "It's hard, you know? I didn't choose any of this, and you didn't either. It feels like the whole world is trying to stop us from being together."

There is no whole world. Only death and decay, and a land ravaged by disease and catastrophe. Maybe what is left of the world is ripping us apart, but I won't let it.

"Promise me you'll find me again?" She is careful with her words, painting them down against the ground.

I would come back for her in a million lifetimes. She reaches for my hand, and I take it firmly within my grasp.