SEPTEMBER 10; GALLY FIVE MONTHS UNTIL THE KIDNAPPING
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"Pack up," Zephyr ordered after bursting into my room. She tossed a duffel bag on my bed. I watched as it landed in a soft heap on the messy sheets. "We're leavin' before noon."
It was mid-morning. Maybe seven or eight o'clock. The barred window in my room shone a fresh light on me. It was too early to pack. I'd barely woken up when Zephyr intruded my space.
"Pack? Pack for what?" My questions caught her, keeping her from leaving. She stood stagnant against the door frame, dragging her feet as she turned back around.
"We're going campin'. Good old American campin'." Sarcasm dripped from her voice, matching her crossed arms.
"Why the hell are we going camping? Since when?"
"We do this every couple of months. Lawrence sends us out to the big bad woods and sees if we can survive out with the cranks. " Zephyr explained. "It's a test of survival, strength, and also one of his sadistic little games we're forced to comply with."
"Okay, so why are you pissed about it?" I asked, shifting so that my posture straightened against my bed frame.
Zephyr's gait stiffened. At first, I thought she was going to act like her old self again. How she acted when she first met me. I thought that she would scowl some bitter phrase and chase her sentence with an ear-shattering door slam. Instead, the girl's face softened. No, fell.
Zephyr closed the door with minimal noise, slipping inside my room. She then trudged over to my bed, sitting at the edge of the mattress. Her hands were folded in her lap, eyes drooping.
"I'll have to be around Marshall today." She confessed quietly, her head bowed like a sinner in church.
I felt for her. Zephyr hadn't been around Marshall since their breakup. She had turned into a sort of a recluse. Only going to the training room and the bathroom then straight back to her room to hide away from the world. Dolores had to leave meals outside of her door. Otherwise, she wouldn't eat.
According to Dolores, this hadn't been her first rodeo. Marshall and Zephyr had broken up at least a handful of times. What made this time so different was the severity of their split. The messiness of it all.
Marshall had gone through the breakup in his own way. First, he indulged in drugs and alcohol, pushing his body to the max.
"I don't fuckin' need her man. Nah, no way. She was only holding me back anyway." That's what he slurred out to me from the cold tile of the bathroom. He threw up right after. I watched him do it.
