of blood and lies ; dystopian

11

present

The days were becoming routine. Fast.

I wasn't sure how long it'd been. I hadn't counted. The days were stretched too long due to the painful silence between us.

Occasionally, a mumble would come out of Karro. It was usually a snide remark about my appearance or an insult regarding how fast I ate. Oddly, it was comforting; a reminder that I was not alone in this room. I did not tell him that.

Twice a day, a tray would slide through the door, and plop onto the floor. It would fall in the same spot every time. I would sit, and wait, trying to catch a glimpse of who was delivering the food.

It was all useless. The metal. The door. The window. Karro. Hope did not exist in this room.

I'd adjusted to sleeping while Karro was awake. A pouch would come in the morning, while I slept, and at night, while he slept. In the short period that he was awake, I would confine myself to the bathroom and wash my clothes. I assumed he did the same as every time I woke it smelled of cheap soap.

I stared down at the tray in front of me. My tray. Karro's was lazily thrown in the corner, empty pouches atop it.

I memorized those, trying to find some pattern among them. But it was all random. Some days it was food, water, and alcohol. On other days, it was nothing but random items. A few days prior, seven pouches full of soap and rags were delivered.

This wasn't The Blood.

I was sure of that.

The Blood loved order and patterns. I'd learned to memorize and learn based on patterns because of them. Nothing was random or chaotic like this was. The Blood would frown upon wherever we were. This was Man, I was sure of it.

I looked down at the tray in front of me. There was a pouch of some kind of burnt meat and three alcohol pouches beside it. I frowned at the last item; toothpaste balls. They reminded me of The Blood. They reminded me of the times I'd used them, chewed them, and rinsed my mouth after. But, it could not be them; there was no order. No pattern.

My head began to throb. I hated not knowing.

I pulled the pouch above me. I examined it in the lighting first, ensuring there was no mold or maggots. Then, I sniffed it. It smelled like steak, but it did not look like steak. I was too hungry to protest.

I bit into the food and looked up toward Karro. His back was to me, expanding and contracting to the beat of his deep breaths. His hair was a mess, as were his sheets under him. He appeared as though he had been rolling around all night.

It was too silent.

I felt like I was breathing too heavily, and thinking too loudly. The silence reminded me of that place. I wanted to ask him about that place. I wanted to ask him about this place. I wanted to ask him if he was lying, or if he truly never had loved me.

I bit my tongue.

Creak.

The door swung open beside me.

My jaw hung low and I jerked my head toward the door. I stopped, mid-chew, staring out into a white hallway. I blinked a few times to ensure I was not dreaming, or hallucinating. Had I been drugged? Was the door actually open?

I did not move, but I looked. From what I could see, there was a white hallway outside the door. The walls and floors were made of white cushions, identical to what we were currently in. There was no sign of anyone. No sign of someone reaching for the door, and opening it. It felt like only Karro and I's souls existed in this place.

"Karro," I whispered. I kept my eyes outside, afraid the door was going to shut.

Silence.

Fucker.

This felt too easy. Too sudden. If it was The Blood, which I doubted, it had to be a trap.

I stood up, backing away from the door. I kept my shoulders square to the foreign land outside of our little room. Once I reached Karro, I slapped his bare back. Hard.

I couldn't even blink. I would be offering myself vulnerable to whatever existed outside the door.

A breeze brushed against my waist. It was the only sign of Karro shifting. He was deathly swift.

Karro stood from the bed, taking a spot behind me. I hadn't seen or heard him move. I could feel the intensity of him, but that was the only indication of him moving.

"Go," Karro said, pushing past me. He bumped my shoulder in the process.

He walked toward the door as if it were normal. Was it?

I kept my feet firm with the floor. I stared at the back of his head as he approached the door. My eyes slipped down to his back. He did not look tense, or worried. I felt stiff as the bed we slept on.

He stopped at the doorframe, looking toward me sideways.

I breathed heavily. This had to be a trap. I wondered if Karro was a part of this and if he was trying to trick me. Was I about to be brought back to that place? Or back to The Blood?

"It's fine," Karro exhaled.

"How do you know?"

Karro reached for me, wrapping his fingers around my bicep. He jerked my body forward, pulling my tense self out of the room. I debated breaking his fingers for touching me.

"How do you know?" I repeated, lowering my voice. I shouldn't trust him. He shouldn't trust me.

Karro ignored me, pulling me out of the doorframe and into the hallway. It was identical to our room. White walls. White ceilings. White floors. My bare feet sunk into the cushion once we made it out of our room.

He stepped in front of me, his body blocking my curious eyes. I looked away from the hallway, and back to him. His eyes felt so cold I shuddered.

Karro leaned down, whispering so softly I nearly missed it. "Do not speak. I will explain when we return."

I didn't nod or respond.

He pulled away from my ear. His face lingered in front of mine, eyes moving down to my lips. I swore I saw his perk up for the slightest second.

He turned away from me. His fingertips slid away from my bicep, slowly drifting down the length of my arm. The touch felt so light and soft. It was torturous how gentle he felt. He was far from it.

He wrapped his fingers around my wrist.

There he was. White knuckles and all.

Hesitantly, I followed behind Karro as we walked down the hall.

My stomach sank. We were not alone.