Alone

I would really appricate some feedback. :)

 

Tonight

To me it’s a promise.

To others it’s a threat. 

Eight letters.

One word.

Scrawled onto a piece of paper and shoved under my door.

It scares me.

He didn’t sign his name, but he doesn’t need to there’s only one person in this hell hole who gives a damn about me.

This is the first ‘conversation’ I’ve had with my brother in months AND ALL HE DOES IS THEATREN ME WITH THIS PROMISE!

I close my eyes and press the paper between my thumb and for finger. The sound tears through the night as I ripe the paper in half again and again and again, until the pieces are too small to rip the inky word cannot be read.

If they catch me they’ll blame him and if they find evidence they’ll kill him.

I can’t let that happen.

I push the edge of my bed away from the wall, I’ve found if I hold the frame at the right angle it stops the mental from scrapping against the concert floor. A slight breeze tickles my ankles and I drop on all fours. The cold seeps through my clothes as I stretch out onto my stomach.

There’s a whole in the wall of my cell, it’s too small to fit through, I’m guessing that’s why they never patched it up or maybe they just don’t know about it.

Either way I’m grateful.

I take my note book, which is stuffed between the bricks and force the fist-full of paper through the whole. I wait for the wind to snatch it from my grasp; it’s hold is strong today I know it will carry the unreadable message far from here, but with the promise of hiding the message comes the threat of a storm.

I hope James knows what he’s doing.

We’ve lived by one warning, one fact which is conditioned into every child since birth – no one survives outside the section.

No one can survive the elements alone. The sections are our only hope of survival, and now my only hope of survival has turned against me.

If I leave, I die.

If I stay, I die.

……

I don’t know what time it is.

They don’t let us have watches. They don’t let us have anything.

That’s not true.

They gave us clothes – a deep blue jumpsuit, it doesn’t fit me properly the woman who had it first must have been taller than me. I have to role the sleeves several times before my figures can peak over the edges of the fabric.

They give us water… Sometimes… When they remember.

James gave me the note book its small. Small enough for it to squeeze into the whole in the wall. But now the pen has ran out of ink.

It ran out five days ago. So, now I have nothing but the numbers in my head to keep track of how long I’ve been locked here.

1465 days.

Today, will be my last.

……….

The ringing pierces my ear drums and rattles my brain, pounding against the inside of my skull. It lasts for exactly thirty seconds, when I first arrived it was a short blare of a horn pressed from somewhere outside my cell door.

It didn’t make my curl up in agony like it does now, it give me hope, it gave me the promise of food, but like all of my possessions hope must be stripped from our bodies and replaced by fear and obedience.

Exactly seventy- six days after my arrival to hells doorstep a silver box was dumped in my cell, I didn’t ask question and I didn’t touch it, I don’t want to think of what the consequences are if I do. That is how you survive the prison.

Don’t look, don’t talk, don’t question, don’t feel.

But now I can’t help feel the ringing which threatens to split my head open, I can’t help feel my bodies desperation for food and water. God, I need it, I need it tonight. I claw myself across the rough concert following the white light which dears to creep under my cell door. Five seconds, it unlocks five seconds before the noise cuts out.

The crunch of mental is drown by the last screech of the noise and light explodes in my eyes. I can’t wait for them to adjust to the sudden brightness, blinking furiously I force myself onto my feet.

I’m in the hallway before my neighbours’ door opens but I’m not alone. A hand presses onto my back sending me stumbling forward where the next hand is waiting. The Guards throw me forward like a rag doll, my skin crawls as the next hand moves lower down my back but I can’t stop, I can’t think about that now.

Mental doors fly open almost crashing into me and the harsh slap of bear feet against concert echoes around the hall.

We get one meal a day. We’re supposed to get one meal a day; but if they run out of food, they don’t give a damn. I have to be first in line.

Bony fingers fold around mine for half a second squeezing as they pass. I don’t need to look up to know Connie is beside me. I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s alive. She’s still alive today.

We file into a signal line seconds before we reach the mess hall. Twenty- three people stand in front of us. I want to cry with relief, but I can’t. I don’t let my shoulders sag, I don’t show my shaking hands, I keep my eyes trained on a small fixed spot and try to stop my body from swaying. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. Do. not. Faint.

Connie presses her shoulder against my arm offering me as much support as she dear. We are not allowed to touch each other.

The brown liquid which is ladled into my bowl burns my skin as it splashes, but I don’t care, at least it’s hot. I force myself to slowly break the last scrap of bread in half as I take it from the soup counter, shielding it from the rest of the world with my body until it is secured in Connie’s fist.

Her lips turn upwards for split second thank you. I jerk my chin down in a slight nod your welcome.

Friendship is crucial to survival. Especially in here where we have nothing but these formula strangers, I have lived alongside of for six years.

I take my usual seat at table twenty- seven and the first mouth full of tasteless soup hits my lips before the bowl is on the table. Four girls and five boys sit at my side, their eyes carefully trained on the food in front of them. Some are brave enough to sneak encouraging glances to their friends speaking the unspoken langue we formed years ago.

 

I risk a glance around the room between inhaling the burning soup in front of me. My chest aches when I realise my brother is not among the guards.

………….

There’s no window in my cell. Just four naked walls, one mental door and a bed. I was given a blanket; its edges are frayed with age and it smells like… god knows what. Still I wrap it tight around my shoulders and pray it will give me some relief from the cold.

It doesn’t.

I can’t stop my teeth from slamming together, or my body from shaking against the floor as I lay to peer out the spy whole.

Its dark outside.

Night.

My blood tingles with anticipation, it burns in my veins and thaw’s my frozen bones.

The wind wraps itself around our building – prison – and heavy boots march down the hall. I jump from the floor and shove my bed back into position.

My heart beats harder than the wind.

The light which crept under the door is cast into shadows. Someone is outside.

I press my body against the furthest wall begging the bricks to swallow me whole.

I hear the handle of my door turn, slowly carefully.

My spin aches as the rough texture of bricks dig into it.

“Zoe?” a shadow of a man follows the voice into my room and I spring forward.

“James, you scared the hell out of me!” my arms wrap around my brother as he closes the door behind him. “How did you get up here?”

“Later.” the word is tight with tension.

I pull back. His face is pale in the shadows of the cell and dark circles cling to his eyes, he hasn’t been sleeping.

“What’s going on?”

He throws a bag of clothes onto my bed and I can’t help digging my fingers into the warmth of the fabric.

“Get changed.”

I pull the jacket all the way out of the bag, it’s a guard uniform. The same as his. I bit my lip, he’s going to try a smuggle me out. He’s really going to do it. but… “If you get caught -”

“I won’t.” he takes a seat at the edge of my bed and hands me some cargo pants. “Get changed quickly, we don’t have a lot of time.”

The urgency in his voice warns me not to argue. I let the blanket fall from my shoulders and unbutton the hideous jumpsuit. The fur lining in the guard’s coat shields me from the cold and can’t get the cargo pants on fast enough.

“I’m going to take you out the back” he hands me a heavy boot. “it’s the middle of the night and most of the guards got assigned to the leaders base –”

“There meeting here! Tonight!” I almost chock on the words.  “Why don’t you kill us now.”

“Twenty-Six leaders are here tonight. That gives us the perfect opportunity slip away, over half our recourses have gone to protecting them, everyone is looking their way, tonight no one cares about you.”

I lace the boots with shaky hands and for once I thankful for the darkness hiding my nerves. Everything is two sizes too big for me, I have to roll the waist of the cargo paint several times before they can hold up on their own.

“Here.” He pressed a pair of cold metal scissors into my hand.

“What are these for?” I’m almost afraid to ask.

“Your hair.”

I spring to my feet hands automatically pulling my long raven hair into a knot at the nape of my neck. “No. Hell no.”

“It’s too obvious no one on the guard has hair that long –”

“You said no one will be looking our way!” I know I’m being childish, its only hair. The guard are not allowed to grow theirs hair past shoulder length, if I am seen my hair would give me away. Still… “Give me your hat.”

“What?”

In one swift movement I take my brothers hat and roll my hair into it. It’s a good thing his head is bigger than mine.

I feel expose without it tumbling over my shoulders, almost naked. A shiver runs down my spine. “How do I look?”

“Let’s go.”