Game of Riches (ONC)

It felt like we'd gone back a thousand years.

I don't know how much time passed before he came. 

Evan. 

At first, I thought his voice was a figment of my imagination, but then the weight disappeared from my back. There was the sound of shuffling feet, the thud of punches thrown, and the groan of them hitting home. 

I took in a deep breath and forced myself up, sending hot acid searing down my spine. The knife was on the ground beside me. I picked it up and ran straight at the pair. The knife found home in the boy's leg and he collapsed moaning to the floor. 

Evan panted for a moment before his attention turned to me. He touched his hands gently to my shoulders and spun me around. "Oh my god, Cora." He breathed.

I had no words. Now that the threat was gone, everything was pain. I collapsed into him, letting him take my weight. My face nestled into his neck and for a moment, I could have almost forgotten the pain. But then it came crashing back. 

I let him lead me blindly down the corridor. The distant echo of the mess hall receded and eventually he lowered me to the floor. It was hard and cold beneath me, the blanket barely making a dent. I let my eyes close and hoped my mind would take me far away. 

It did not. Evan placed his hand in mine, and I squeezed it in return. 

"Why, Evan?" I asked.

"Not now." He whispered and brushed a hand over my hair. 

"Yes, now. I need a distraction."

He sighed. "Two weeks ago--"

"Two weeks!"

He laughed, but it wasn't jovially. "Yes, two weeks ago, I was in the mess hall and a man challenged me over my porridge. I said plainly, no sir, you can not have my porridge, you have your own. He didn't take this well, as you know, some people think everything is rightfully theirs and sconned me one, right there on the spot. I was seeing stars for a good hour."

I punched him in the leg and he moaned. I instantly regretted it when fire raced down my spine.

He laughed for real this time. "No, that didn't happen."

I twisted around to face him. "Tell me the truth."

He stared me straight in the eye. "Two weeks ago...my sister came to me. She was covered in blood. I tried to ask her what had happened but she'd wouldn't stop sobbing about how she would never see me again. That's when I knew she'd done something terrible. The blood was not hers. There was only one possible explanation." He paused. "She'd  killed a man, not out of hate, but in defense. Or at least that's what I thought. I hid her, thinking that would keep her safe. A few days later, I found out the man hadn't died. He was on a ventilator. I went to the hospital and they said he would wake up in a few days. I couldn't let him wake up and accuse my sister, so I finished the job." He turned away from me as he spoke the last sentence. "After that, I couldn't face you."

It wasn't his or his sister's fault our justice system was flawed. His sister had acted in self-defense, but the courts wouldn't see it that way. "I understand." I said, knowing those were all the words of forgiveness he needed.  

He laid down next to me on the hard floor, facing me, and placed my hand to his chest. "Thank you."

We stayed there, for the longest time, and I watched and listened as his eyes closed and his breathing slowed. He was foolish, but I could forgive him for breaking my heart. He should've known to trust me to understand. But things couldn't be undone or changed, that was something I learnt time and time again. Nothing could bring someone back from the dead. I'd certainly tried.