cloak of carmine

my blood

I wake with the sun, when the merest streaks of yellow spill across the concrete floor.

I get up as quietly as possible, trying my best not to disturb Tyler. In the light, I see that there are more people in here with us- maybe eight or nine. Last night was too dark to make out anything, and besides, I had much more pressing things to think about.

I construct a makeshift stool from some rotting crates from the corner of the room, and heave myself through the skylight, onto the roof. From up here, I can see everything. The whole city laid out before me. And to my left, I can see Trench. Huge and vibrant and infinite.

The view is almost hypnotising, how the colours seem to twist and melt and shift. I would never have guessed that there were so many shades of green. I've been out there before, a couple of times. I'll be out there again. Soon. I just know it.

The sun begins to peek its red-gold head above the cliffs. I can hear someone fumbling with the crate below. It's Tyler. He looks up at me apologetically and smiles. There's still blood and dirt on his face from yesterday. I lean over and grab hold of his arms, pulling him over the edge.

We sit in silence, watching the sun slowly take its place in the sky.

"We've gotta leave, Josh," he says, finally.

And suddenly, I feel lighter than air. Because that was the one thing that I was truly afraid of- that Tyler would see what he saw in the Necropolis and internalise it all until he ended up as dead as Ben Foster. That's the thing about Dema. You're not even supposed to be able to talk to people about how you feel in the first place. That's pretty much the first thing the Bishops teach you. That you are alone. So even having a friend feels like a little rebellion in itself.

"Thank fuck," I say. We look at each other and laugh. Long, stupid, giggly laughs that carry over the walls. I don't even really know what we're laughing at. It's just right now, everything seems so ridiculous that it's all I can bring myself to do.

"I can't do this anymore Josh, I can't live like this. Not after..."

Not after yesterday. I nod. "I know."

"Do you hate them?" he says, quietly.

My initial reaction is to say yes, yes, of course I do. To scream it to the sky. But part of me is conflicted. I've always had this feeling that what the Bishops were doing was wrong, but I could never seem to pin my finger on it. And even trying to articulate it screamed blasphemy so I just shut up. But I think Tyler gets it. It's not even the teachings anymore. It's the city itself. If I were to describe Dema to someone who'd never been, I'd say it was a dull knife. Barely enough edge to be a hazard, but anything can be a weapon if you try hard enough. And in a way, it's worse. The dullness. like a continual ache that eats away at you day after day, not enough to ask for help, but enough to know that it hurts. Constantly. Sometimes I wish they would just get it over with.

"What was the stuff that you were gonna tell me?" I ask.

"Hm?"

"That weird phrase thing on the walls- you said you were gonna tell me what it meant."

His eyes light up. "Oh, yeah. So—"

But before he can continue, there's shouts from downstairs. The Bishops. I don't know how they found us, but they're coming.

"Tyler, the Bishops, we gotta—" But he seems to have frozen.

Why did I think the roof was a good idea? I knew there were limited points of escape. I mentally kick myself. I can get down, but I don't know how to get Tyler down with me. I realise my hands are shaking, and I know it's not from the cold.