Chapter 13: Busy Hands, Busy Mind

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"Sagi you have to go faster they're gonna notice," Xyle whispered under his breath. I glanced up at him, my eyes weary and tired, then got back to shoveling. I was drained. Physically from staying up all night, and mentally from losing my soul mate. What was the point in working hard when all I would achieve was working myself to death?

My eyes were puffy and blood shot from crying, dark rings around my eyes showing the telltale signs of sleep deprivation. It was the type of fatigue reserved only for "special" occasions. Where your feet drag on the floor with every step you take, lifting your arm feels like lifting a mountain, and there are stars dancing on the edge of your vision.

I felt hopeless. Dovima was my light, my moon my sun my everything. She was the reason I got up in the morning, the reason I strived to be a better person. Now my rock was gone.

Wearily looking up at Xyle, I sighed heavily drawing his attention. We both paused from our shoveling, simply letting the brown MASH pile up in front of us.

"I need a break, I can't do this," I whispered. My eyes were beginning to tear up, my bottom lip quivering. Xyle looked at me with compassion, his eyes full with concern. He put down his shovel, coming over towards me and place a rough hand over my back.

"Hey, hey it's ok don't cry. Take a smoko mate," I nodded stiffly at this, sniffing loudly. Don't cry, don't cry, not in front of everyone I told myself. I turned to leave, then felt a familiar tug in my heart. My hands twitched, needing to be occupied.

"You uh, you got some?" I asked gingerly as I spun back around towards Xyle. He seemed slightly taken aback by the question, stepping backwards and blinking in disbelief. He knew I'd been sober a long time. But he also knew I became sober for her.

And now she's gone.

"Yeah mate," he said regaining composure. He withdrew a small, neatly rolled joint from his back pocket. He glanced around briefly, checking to see who was watching, before slipping into my own chest pocket. He patted it awkwardly, unsure of what else to say. I nodded swiftly before leaving the work room.

Xyle always carried something on him. Most of us did, it was the only way to get through a 12 hour day. Dovima and I were the exception to the rule. After I gave up the drugs, she replaced them with her love. That's how I got through my day.

Standing outside, I leant against the wall of the building gazing up at the sky. Closing my eyes I inhaled deeply, allowing my lungs to fill with the air. It was stale, old air. The same air that had been circling throughout the dome for a century. The same air Dovima used to breathe.

A heavy sob escaped my throat, and I clasped my hand over my mouth to try and control myself. With a deep sniff, I looked up into the light to try to stop the tears. The never ending tears. I pulled out the joint, holding it between my pointer and middle finger. I hesitated, just for a moment, before bringing it to my lips.

My hands shook as I rose the lighter up. I watched it shake, willing them to be still and get the job done. Eyes fixed on the lighter, I clicked the button. The flame burnt dully in the wind, and I shielded it with my hand.

Did I really want to do this?

One joint and that's all it takes.

No. I want this.

I brought the lighter to the stick, igniting the end. The tip started to burn, the paper it was rolled in crinkling and turning black. This is who I am. No point trying to fight it. Just another statistic, another orphaned drug addict.

My attention was drawn away from my predicament when I noticed a small van pulling up to the back of the MASH factory. It was a black van, nothing special about it. But the number plate looked familiar. My eyes shot wide as I remembered.

It was the van that had collected Dovima this morning.

I spat the joint onto the floor, stomping on it rapidly to put out the flame. I then crouched down, head bowed. A hearty laugh escaped my throat, startling myself with it's hard sound.

"Even when you're dead, you're still looking out for me," I whispered, glancing up at the van. I watched as two men hopped out of the van, walking around the back and swinging the boot open. They then dragged a large rectangular box out. A cardboard coffin. The two carried the coffin inside through the back door.

I narrowed my eyes as I watched the door slam shut behind them. Something wasn't right. Was that Dovima? It couldn't be. Yet if it was, why had they brought her body to the MASH factory?

All I knew was that I had to get to the bottom of this.

***
Apologies for the short chapter, but hope you enjoyed! See you next time, where some troubling revelations are revealed muahahhaha

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