of blood and lies ; dystopian

18

Past

"I'm so sorry I am late," I started. I leaned down in front of Karro, brushing my lips against his. I bit his lip and sat down across from him.

I winced but replaced it with a smile. My muscles ached from what had occurred earlier when the group of gunmen stormed into War.

I'd slipped on a short and tight black dress. The cleavage dipped low and my arms were bare; I'd put on a cardigan to cover the many bruises over my arms.

Five hours.

I'd been unconscious for five fucking hours because of the bastard back at The Blood. He'd left shortly after and did not attack the Murthaa as we expected.

My head pounded from the gun that struck my head, and the yelling I endured from the Murthaa. I'd failed her. I'd failed The Blood. I'd let one slip past. I could only imagine what would have happened to me if she had actually been attacked by him. I'd probably be stoned by the Committee in front of all Sectors.

My eye throbbed too. It was a dark hue of purple and my eye was bloodshot. I covered it with a bottle's worth of makeup, but it was fairly obvious what I was hiding. "It was so terrible, Karro." I downed the water in front of me. I was exhausted. "My sister went absolutely insane with Mom. She ended up punching me in the face! I mean, look at my eye."

I gestured toward the black eye. I'd learned it was better to explain it before he could ask.

I did not know of my mother.

And, I certainly did not receive the bruise from a nonexistent sister.

Karro's face twitched, but he smiled nonetheless. Was he angry with me? My stomach sank. I'd understand why, I was nearly four hours late and Karro hated to be left waiting.

I frowned. "What's wrong?"

His eyes shifted to the knife beside his plate. "Just don't like someone hurting you. Did you hit her back at least?"

I shook my head, staring down at my plate. He had ordered my spaghetti; my cheeks heated at the thought of him memorizing my order. "No. I wouldn't hurt someone." I sighed, intertwining my fingers. "Even if she punched me in the face."

A few tears pooled in my eyes when I looked back up at Karro. I'd learned how to cry on command at a very young age. In times like these, it really came into hand. "I just am so sick of this family drama. I wish they would stop fighting."

Karro's eyes were still on the knife. His grip around the glass of water had gone so tight I thought he would shatter the glass. Did he really care that much about someone hurting me?

"I know, princess. You wouldn't hurt a fly." Karro smiled after he said this.

I smiled and reached for his hand. I traced my fingertips over his bruised knuckles before intertwining my hand with his. I wondered who he had fought with. I'd walked in on him beating up many, many men. But, I always hid in the shadows; it would call for too many questions if I responded to it so emotionless.

He nodded toward the TV a few feet away. Again, it was of the war; the same war that we'd spoken of the first night at the bar. "The war is getting terrible," he grunted.

When I looked at the TV, he looked away and toward me. Watching me. I focused on the muscles in my face, ensuring that nothing was too tight or too eased. It was difficult being someone else.

My stomach pooled with excitement. I loved it. The chaos and bloodshed was beautiful. I wanted to be back at The Blood, hunting down the man who had given me the black eye. I wanted to hang the corpses of the men who believed they could parade through The Blood untouched. After I hung them, I'd want the people of The Blood to stone their bodies and release their rage toward Man. Maybe even release their rage toward The Blood.

Despite my thoughts, I frowned and looked back to Karro. "Violence is never the answer. Shooting each other is not going to find the peace they wished for."

Karro stared at me.

He truly stared. In a way that I'd never seen him stare before. Not much made me uncomfortable, but right now I wanted to excuse myself from the table and hide from his eyes. I couldn't tell if he wanted to fuck me or argue with me.

"How is your mother doing?" Karro asked with a tilt of his head.

"You know how it is. They argue and argue. Just putting more trauma on the rest of the family. I wish I could help them," I admitted. My lip even trembled.

Bullshit. If my family existed, I would have put a bullet through every last one of them. Family meant nothing. All I saw in it was weakness among shared blood. Sadness, too. I saw the loyalty that family had, but I did not understand it. Was I supposed to be loyal to someone just because I ripped their cunt open?

When I had killed Karro's mother, he'd cried in my arms for days. "Cancer" was what he told me.

I held him, despite it all. When he cried, I thought of her eyes. I felt the guilt over and over. I still feel guilt when I focus too long on the sage.

"We can go to that little bookstore after this," Karro suggested. He cut into his steak; his eyes narrowed as he sawed through the meat. "You know, the one you love so much."

I nodded and smiled. Books were something I loved about Man. We were not allowed to have them at The Blood. History was verbal, never written.

"That would be great," I smiled. He was too good to me.