Our Darkest Knights

Chapte six

The rain has subsided, and sunbeams peak through the clouds, casting a golden glow that dries the lingering puddles on the streets. My bike sloshes through them on my way home. I leave my rusty bike propped up against the wall outside my building. Unfazed by the potential theft since it's on the brink of disintegration, I found it in an alleyway a couple of months ago; it was missing the seat, but I just replaced it with a piece of wood and fashioned a cushion from an old baby blanket.

I ascended the stairs to my apartment. I have 30 minutes before I have to be at work. The Animal Clinic is only a few blocks away, and all I have to do is make a swift change into my scrubs.

Entering my apartment, the shadows dance along the walls, imprinted with the busy life outside my window. I throw my keys on the empty counter, and shed my jacket, letting it drop to the floor.

Suddenly, an uninvited sensation fills me—I'm not alone. A silent intruder shares the space.

As the floors creak behind me, I turn so swiftly that I nearly stumble over my own feet.

"who's there?" My voice cuts through the shadows.

"Don't be afraid," the faceless voice says.

My eyes squint to the corner of my room, where I make out his face.

Mystery boy.

"My name is Kyte. I'm not here to hurt you," he says, stepping closer.

I instinctively move further away from him. "How did you get in here?" I ask.

He turns his head to my window, which I never lock because I'm on the second floor.

"You climbed the building?" I ask, somewhat impressed. "Why? What do you want?"

"Your place is pretty bare," he observes, wandering around my combined living room and bedroom, avoiding my question. "Your electricity doesn't work, you don't have a bed frame or a fridge, and I'm willing to bet if I went to your faucet and turned it on, you wouldn't have running water either."

Is he just here to insult my lifestyle?

"What's your point?" I ask, keeping my eyes trained on him wearily.

"I can help you," he says, stopping in front of me.

My brows crinkle. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't have to live like this, Kate."

My eyes bore into the even more mysterious mystery boy. "How do you know my name?"

"From your file," he responds simply.

"My file?" I connect the dots in my mind. "That's why you were at my school today to get my file. Why?"

"Because we need you,"

A knot forms in my gut. "We?"

"I'm part of a rebellion group; we've been recruiting people from different sectors. We need an Elalit to join us, and you are harder to come by than you might think, especially juveniles," he explains.

A rebellion group? Do they have a death wish? They could all be killed on the spot for such a crime.

"Why does it have to be a juvenile?" I ask.

"It just makes more sense for you to join if you have a reason to hate them," he replies, speaking with a hint of experience on the matter.

"Hate who?" I ask.

" Keapers, Caspien's, The Jara's, and all their supporters. If you join our group, you'll be fighting back against all of those who have wronged you and people like you," he explains.

I shake my head. "I don't want to fight back,"

His eyes study me, making me look away nervously.

"Yes, you do, you're just afraid, but that fear will cripple you if you let it," he asserts, speaking as if he knows me.

"Look, Kyte, I'm sorry, but I can't help you, I'm on probation, and I'm not allowed to leave city limits,"

"Laws don't matter to us," he replies.

"Well, they matter to me; I just spent a good portion of my life locked away; I'm not looking to go back. I don't know what you and this rebel group have planned, but I don't want any part of it," I declare firmly.

He opens his mouth to protest further, but I cut him off. "I'm late for work," I say, opening my front door for him to leave. He sighs and steps through the frame, pausing for a moment. He looks over at me, but I don't meet his eye.

"You have to reclaim your fight at some point." He says before continuing on his way.

I slammed the door behind him, lingering a moment, chewing on my nails, before shaking off what he said. I dismiss the luxury of contemplation—I'm already late.

My scrubs are thrown on hastily and bolted out the door. I'm never late for work, but I know Mason won't mind. He is a good boss, and I guess he is the closest thing I could call a friend. I appreciate my workplace. Animals are easier to navigate than humans; they are readily eager to offer love and less eager to judge.

The clinic closes at 5, which is when Mason leaves, but I'm here till 7, closing everything up. I feed the animals and clean out their cages, all while chatting with Igor about my day.

        Igor, our clinic's bird, a pure white parakeet addicted to granola. His owner abandoned him here because they couldn't pay his medical bill. He came in with a broken wing. They fed us a story about how he flew into a window, but I was always suspicious of it. Parakeets are very smart.

As sad as it is, I consider Igor to be my best friend. I tell him everything, including today's mystery boy and his crazy proposition. He is the only one who listens, and somehow, it makes all the difference.