Beyond the Border | ✔

48 | rule 111

̶̶̶𝐑̶̶̶𝐔̶̶̶𝐋̶̶̶𝐄̶̶̶ ̶̶̶𝟏̶̶̶𝟏̶̶̶𝟏̶̶̶:̶̶̶ ̶̶̶𝐋̶̶̶𝐈̶̶̶𝐅̶̶̶𝐄̶̶̶ ̶̶̶𝐎̶̶̶𝐍̶̶̶ ̶̶̶𝐓̶̶̶𝐇̶̶̶𝐄̶̶̶ ̶̶̶𝐎̶̶̶𝐔̶̶̶𝐓̶̶̶𝐒̶̶̶𝐈̶̶̶𝐃̶̶̶𝐄̶̶̶ ̶̶̶𝐈̶̶̶𝐒̶̶̶ ̶̶̶𝐍̶̶̶𝐎̶̶̶𝐓̶̶̶ ̶̶̶𝐀̶̶̶ ̶̶̶𝐋̶̶̶𝐈̶̶̶𝐅̶̶̶𝐄̶̶̶ ̶̶̶𝐖̶̶̶𝐎̶̶̶𝐑̶̶̶𝐓̶̶̶𝐇̶̶̶ ̶̶̶𝐋̶̶̶𝐈̶̶̶𝐕̶̶̶𝐈̶̶̶𝐍̶̶̶𝐆̶̶̶.̶̶̶ ̶̶̶𝐃̶̶̶𝐎̶̶̶𝐍̶̶̶'̶̶̶𝐓̶̶̶ ̶̶̶𝐅̶̶̶𝐎̶̶̶𝐑̶̶̶𝐆̶̶̶𝐄̶̶̶𝐓̶̶̶ ̶̶̶𝐓̶̶̶𝐇̶̶̶𝐀̶̶̶𝐓̶̶̶.̶̶̶

✷ C H A P T E R      F O U R T Y - E I G H T ✷

"You need to do something – anything," Theo's voice greeted me. Abruptly, he turned on the lights, my eyes squinting in agony.

"I am doing something," my voice was groggy, hoarse from lack of talking. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes before pulling the comforter over my head, grumbling. "I'm mourning. I'm also laying down. On top of that, I think it's actually quite impossible to do nothing."

Theo let out a long sigh, the bed dipping down by my side. "It's been four weeks."

I threw the covers off my body, eyes locked in a scowl. "Are you implying my Pa only deserved to be mourned for four weeks, Theo?"

"That is not what I meant, and you know that," Theo's eyes watched over me as I crossed my arms over my chest in a dramatic fashion. Angrily, I got out of bed, kicking the sheets off my body. I looked in the mirror, smoothed my hair, and turned toward the bedroom door. "What are you – where are you going?"

I tilted my head, eyes narrowed further. "I'm going to do something. Maybe, I'll even do anything."

Theo did not follow me, and it was probably for the best. I was seething, breaths coming in hot and fast. My fingers longed to wring anything in their path. Taming the anger that festered within, I balled my fists at my side, took another few deep breaths, and marched down the stairs.

Despite still being clad in pajamas I had been wearing for the past week, I flung the front door open and started walking forward. I did not know where I was going; I just knew I had to get out of there. The light breeze offered some solace from my constraining thoughts.

It was the first time I properly left Theo's room since Pa's funeral. After having a depressing dinner with my family, I broke down in Theo's arms, and I hadn't been able to pick myself up since. Before the funeral, I was there – but not really there. After the funeral, it was like I had been the one buried six feet under. I knew that was an insult, to compare my living misery to the misery of those who actually endured physical afflictions that lead to a painful death. But, I couldn't help but feel that way, and it only piled on to the distress I was feeling.

And then Theo told me the news: Si was dead. His body was found near the Border – he did not make it far from the town center before a wolf put an end to him. His body was covered by shrubbery and fallen branches, so it had taken days to find him. Si never had to face the devastation he caused. He never had to live with the new traumatic reality he created. Instead, he got a way out, and I was so angry he'd never have time to feel sorrowful for Pa's premature death.

In my foggy state, I had not noticed I walked to the packhouse. I estimated it was a couple of miles trek, the fuzzy pajama pants almost becoming unbearably hot in the blistering sun. Deciding I would pop in for a refreshment and then leave (I had now spent an uncomfortable amount of time away from confinement), I opened the door and headed over to the kitchen, memories of my time here before my escape filling my mind.