Lego House

xv. Revolutionary

{ unedited }

Irisa is awoken by a pair of arms lifting her from the ground, obviously not caring about the fact that she was sound asleep. Her muscles ache from having slept on the rock ground again. She’d been there for weeks. So many weeks with only Aleyah. Aleyah. She’s glad to see that she’s right there, untouched and curled up into a ball, right beside where Irisa was before.

“Ris, don’t fight it.” It’s Roselle, looking tired and hopeless. Irisa lets herself fall limp in the man’s arms instead of struggling against his strong grip. She hadn’t even realised what she was doing until Rose brought it up. She’s just so used to fighting it all, fighting them all.

Everyone else is asleep.

“On your feet,” the man spits, his voice a harsh whisper, so as to not wake the others. She stands without protest, noticing the guns strapped to his waist. He pulls out a pair of handcuffs and the click holding her hands behind her back makes her want to roll her eyes. Another click sounds, and she sees Roselle wince. Weak, quiet, timid Roselle.

Irisa forces a smile onto her features, to reassure her older sister. They walk forward, prodded along by the men behind them. They could fight. They could kick and scream and wake the others up. But they’d be so outnumbered, even with the others. The reinforcements would come in incredulous numbers.

Nothing matters anymore. Her parents are dead and the remainders of her family are both being held captive in the world’s worst prison, with one meal a day and the stench of their own pee everywhere.

She sees Jarrett, asleep. She hasn’t seem him yet. Tears fill her eyes as she seems his furrowed eyebrows and angry scowl. In his sleep he has no peace, no freedom from the world around him – from his horrendous father who never cared. Who had two lives. She doesn’t look at the rest of him, his bloodied, ripped clothing and bruised and cut arms and legs and torso.

Oops.

She glances away, and is faced with Autumn. She can’t wipe away her tears. She looks so sad. And angry and frustrated and annoyed. Her fiery personality is so evident in her sleep. She wasn’t like this before. She used to be calm and happy and, yes, sassy – but not to the extent that seeing her asleep would showcase that so easily.

She watches Rose looking at Michael, and more tears drip onto her cheeks. “Rose,” she breathes, and Roselle looks away from the battered Mikey – who constructed his attackers in his head. Just like Jarrett.

“Move faster.” The soldier’s gruff voice again.

“Where are we going?” Irisa asks before she can hold her tongue. She can’t anyway. Handcuffs. The man sighs impatiently. She twists her head and looks at him with raised eyebrows, not moving a step further. He rolls his eyes. Pulls out a gun. Points it at Roselle.

“Move.”

Roselle has to keep walking with a gun pointed at her. Stupid Ris – stupid, stupid Irisa. They are out of the smelly corridors of the prison cells now. Into some pristine hallways. The walls are metallic silver, and a wave of heat suddenly rushes towards Roselle. The floor beneath their feet is cool, though the air is hot.

The men’s combat boots hit the ground with resounding thuds with each step they take. She wonders where they are going. They went through dark corridors on the way to prison cells after she went through the fear hallucinations again. Maybe it was here – but it was a lot cooler. They go up a flight of stairs, and another, and another. Certainly she would’ve remembered these had they returned via this path last time.