Temporary Title

Bored

Judas extends a hand, a hand quivering with rage, a hand that I shake.

"Pallas," I figure it's only fair that he knows my name, too.

"So, Pallas, why're you here?" Judas asks, crossing his arms but still tapping his foot aggressively.

"I admitted I was gay to a friend. How 'bout you?"

He sighs. It's hard to talk about, it's a hard question to answer. Oh yeah, the world hates me for liking who I like so now I'm here to be killed.

"Same."

Silence. Deafening silence. It's not hard to be in his presence, but the dread looming over our heads, weighing down on our shoulders, makes it a little hard to relax. The lock clicks, drawing our attention. The door is opened by a tall woman, made even taller by her heels, who enters the room, clipboard in hand.

"Names," she demands. Judas goes first.

"Judas Smith."

I go next.

"Pallas Brook."

We wait for the woman's next bark during the few seconds it takes for her to jot down our names. Surprisingly, her next words aren't a command or a question.

"You will be reporting to the main hall for morning instructions, breakfast, lunch, afternoon instructions, and dinner. You will go to bed only when all of your tasks have been completed and all events of the day have been shown."

Information, context, the first we've gotten all day. It's almost a relief, hearing our rules, knowing how to stay in line, at least for now.

"Do you understand?" She asks.

"Yes," Judas and I reply in unison. The woman gives a prompt nod before leaving, locking the door once again.

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Nope."

It took a little while for me to realize that our room doesn't have windows, nor a clock of any kind. There's graffiti on the walls, bushels of tally marks that look like they were drawn with chalk. Judas and I were too afraid of the mattresses the first night, but after the massive backache today, we decided there's not much left to lose. Now, we sit in our room, our sad, windowless room, with me in the corner and Judas on his bed.

"I'm bored," I complain, tossing my head back against the wall with a thud.

"I have an idea. It may get us in trouble, but it's an idea," Judas replies, looking at me with a mischievous grin. My heart pounds at the thought of getting in trouble in this place, but I suppose at this point there's not much they could do that I'm not expecting.

"I'm down."

So Judas pushes himself off of the bed, extending a hand to help me up off the floor. I'm only standing for a second, half of a second, and he presses his lips against mine. He's kissing me. I don't have an issue with this, in fact, I think I might like it. He's sweet, tastes like chamomile and sugar, and his fluffy hair tickles my forehead. It's pleasant, the heavy dread of being in an institution like this is lifted off of my chest, a spark of joy replaces it.

And then the door opens.

"Separate them, now," A deep voice commands. A large hand grips my bicep, pulling me away, and as my eyes open, I see Judas being dragged out of the room, not struggling as I would expect. He's smiling. He's smiling at me. The door shuts, and I'm left alone.

I've been alone for a few days now. My room is colder without another person in it. It's lonely, it's scary. It's even scarier not knowing where Judas is or if he's even alive. The crackle of the announcement system scratches my ear drums, and the harsh, high-pitched tone of the announcer speaks up.

"The execution of Judas Smith will occur today, after dinner. You may return to your activities."

My face goes pale. Of course, I should've expected it, one of us was bound to die, especially after our little stunt. Not wanting to think about the situation and having nothing else to do, I curl up on Judas's mattress and close my eyes.