Chapter 53

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Rus's P.O.V (Three months earlier)




I fled to my room in the fraction of a second. Since the meeting was forever disbanded, all of us didn't really see a reason to continue to remain under these confinements. After all, we had discovered everything that we set out to reveal about the mysterious COS.

My hand reached into my pocket and pulled out one of the two keys that were stuffed in there and threw it into the lock on the door.

I turned the knob and entered the desolate landscape. It had been like this for the past couple of days, or, more accurately, ever since America rushed after his states. It was so lonely and quiet without him and I strangely didn't like the feeling.

I sighed and left my shoes near the door, as I walked over to my room to get my stuff. I knew it wouldn't be a hard task, since I didn't have many outfits, accessories, and things to take with me.

I unzipped my closed suitcase and went over to my closet. I reached for my shirts first, then my pants, and, after those, the other stuff. I folded them the best that I could and placed them inside the oversized bag.

When that was over with, I grabbed what was left over and cast it down into the shelled casing. However, before I was about to shut the suitcase, I spotted my father's letter in a drawer.

I reached inside and plucked it up. My eyes began to scan the words that he wrote, as if I was a machine registering a card.

I flicked it into the top pocket and shut my bag closed. Too many revolutionary thoughts were spinning in my head ever since I had read the contents of it. I couldn't just bring someone back to life like that, there had to be something more complicated in order to make it work.

I huffed, while I looked around for any other things that I forgot to add. As far as I could see, my room was empty of my stuff, so I moved onto the rest of the living quarters.

I entered the bathroom and rounded up my hygiene supplies.

My brows furrowed a bit when I noticed a small bottle of soap on the sink's ledge. It wasn't mine, since the ones I was sent were in bars for easy travability.

My hand grasped the nearly empty bottle and threw it into the trash can near the toilet, since it was almost entirely gone and I knew I wouldn't use it.

In the meantime, I returned to my room and placed the items I had gathered into a bag and put it in the largest pocket of the suitcase.

I zipped my bag closed and began to pull it out of my former room. I stepped through the livingroom and kitchen, well aware that I didn't have anything in either of those rooms.

My feet stepped into my loose shoes and I was about to open the handle.

Yet, I hesitated and pulled my hand back.

There was technically one room that had stuff in it.

I left the suitcase at the door and swerved around. I just needed to see if there was anything to clean up in America's room, since I didn't want the custodians having more work on their hands than what they already had now. After all, they had a bunch of rooms that they needed to clean.

I cracked open the American's door and went in. His room was nearly clean, with just a few crumpled up papers thrown onto the floor. There was also a sense of rush that flooded the room and created an unpleasant crawling feeling rise on my spine.

I ignored it and began to pick up the few crumple up balls of paper. I unfilled a few and noticed that each of them had a few written words that were scratched out violently.

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