The Shell of Casper

- 2 - Blacksmith

The pair staggered to a stop, and Rosie felt her cheeks pale. The blood leaked from her face. Casper's already alabaster skin somehow drained further. The hand encircling her own held on tighter, his jaggedly bitten nails scraping her palm.

"What are you doing?" The gravelly voice of the guard interrogated harshly. There was no time for sensitivity in this field of work.

"Excuse me," Rosie forced the words out, shaping them to sound demanding and assured. "I am hurrying this escapee back to his room."

"Can I see some ID?" The guard didn't back down. Rosie then recognized him from watching Casper and his group in training— Jones.

"Jones, it's Rose." She stammered, letting impatience drip off of her tongue. "Rose Lowery."

"From camera security?" Jones let out a humourless laugh. "With a Reaper?"

    Reaper. Jones said the word as if these people chose to be here, to be changed into killers. It dehumanized them. Rosie felt the need to spit in the guard's face.

"He snuck into security, I assume to organize a grand escape of some sort." She let her lids flutter like this was a minor inconvenience, just an itch she couldn't reach. "Foolish, of course, to think that no one would be in there."

"You didn't call a guard?" Jones's eyes burned into her's with a fiery scrutiny. "Reapers are dangerous. Very dangerous."

"Did you think I couldn't handle this myself?" She lifted her chin peevishly. Casper was stiff and motionless beside her. "Should I have just cowered and called out for someone to come to my rescue?"

"Well..." Jones's gaze swept over her short body and thin arms. Rosie hissed and stepped closer.

"How dare you!" She growled. "Just because I am a woman does not mean―"

"You need to calm down, 67-J will be needing serious repercussions for what he has done, it has nothing to do with you." Jones stopped her seething threats before they could spiral, glancing at Casper's name tag. "I can take him from here."

"No, thank you." Rosie said coolly, breezing past him. "I know where his room is, I work in monitoring after all."

    Rosie felt a burst of hope bloom in her chest as Jones didn't follow them. But as she rounded a turn, Casper's hand was ripped from her grasp. She whipped around, but Casper was already marching back to her, tugging his blindfold over his eyes. Jones was in a heap on the ground, dark blood slithering from his lips. Rosie was frozen in place. 

    "I heard him turn on his radio, he was going to send out an alert." Casper groaned through his clamped teeth. He found her sightlessly, his hands anchoring to her once he sought her out in the blind silence. "We have to go."

    Rosie was stunned. She had barely had time to turn before Jones was a pile of greyed skin and bones around a shriveled heart. Casper was so fast. The result of his cutthroat training was terrifying.

"I'm sorry," Casper's lips twitched, his hands shaking. "I didn't know what else to do."

Rosie stared up to meet his gaze, to stare at the navy strip of cloth. The kind-hearted, intelligent, goofy, reckless boy she knew truly was slipping away. Kind-heartedness was replaced with a mind taught to block feelings, intelligence was sharpened into strategy, goofiness made into a blank mind, and recklessness rewritten into skilled precision. The ingredients to make a brainwashed soldier.

    Rosie started walking, slower this time. She wasn't able to keep in the few tears that welled into her eyes. They weren't for Jones, who she didn't ideally like but still felt bad for. But they were for the loss of the boy she knew.

"Please, don't." Casper's head stayed down. Rosie couldn't reply.

Casper halted, listening. It was his most essential sense now, "Rosie?"

    She looked up at him, knowing he saw nothing of her. She hugged him, bringing her arms around his neck. He smelled of rain and ashes as she rested her head on his shoulder. The material of his uniform was scratchy on her cheek. "I miss you."

Casper tensed at the words. "I'm still me."

Rosie didn't smile. Or agree. This was the husk of the dark-haired, always smiling boy she remembered. His hopes, his future, his interests, his childhood, his desires, his dreams, his hobbies, his personality were all dissected from him. He may have looked the same, only taller, and more grown up. But his movements were trained. How could this be him? Where was the boy who mourned and panicked minutes before?

"Rosie." Casper tapped her arm to make her listen, unable to see her but still knowing she wasn't listening. "I am still me."

"Okay." She sniffed, not saying that she agreed. Maybe she was being too short... he had just broken down in the closet. It was just how he reacted with Jones that unsettled her more than it should have. She was being foolish. As much as they put Casper through, they couldn't take away his true self. Right?

"I'm sorry." Rosie whispered. She had to be there for him. That was why she went through all of this. To get him out. Who else would be the exact same after what he had endured?

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Casper relaxed in her grip, holding her tight. "I'm still me."

He said it like he was convincing someone other than just her. Maybe himself.