of blood and lies ; dystopian

21

Present

I kneeled beside the door, watching as another tray was quickly deposited through the slit.

It landed by my knees. I squinted and tried to catch a glimpse of whoever was delivering our food. Was it one of the soldiers? Someone else? The flap was sealed tightly shut before I could see anything.

Fuck.

"Have you ever seen one of them? The people delivering the food?" I asked. I pushed at the slit though I knew it would not budge. How were they able to seal it shut so fast?

Karro burned a hole into the back of my head. I did not need to turn around to acknowledge this.

I ground my teeth together. Silence. Too much fucking silence.

We'd been getting somewhere. Every few days, a conversation would spark between us. It was usually regarding who would get the fruit and who would use the shower first. It was never a constructive conversation, but at least it was something other than this.

I turned to him. I was not going to accept silence anymore.

"Well?" I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "Have you?"

Karro narrowed his eyes. He answered, nonetheless. "No. That's why I know this is The Blood. They are too fast. The Blood was quick like this."

I laughed. "It's inconsistent. They rely on patterns. Consistencies. The pouches have to be a coincidence." I gestured to the tray in front of us.

Today, we received six bags of alcohol. I was grateful for Karro's surplus beneath the bed.

"You would know."

I looked away from him, and then to the pillow on my bed. I wondered how fast I could get to it and cut out his jugular. He was big. Strong. I'd have to fight for it if I wanted him dead.

I shifted on the floor until my back was propped against the door. I pulled my knees to my chest and held the dark drink into the light. I ensured no particles were floating in the alcohol; it was an old habit I'd picked up after going to so many bars with Karro.

"Fuck you," I replied. I smiled and tore the pouch open with my teeth.

He looked down and let out a heavy breath. I believed it may have been his attempt at a laugh. My stomach sank and my lips deepened. I never thought I would hear that noise again.

I took a large swig of alcohol to that. Whiskey. I shut my eyes and leaned my head against the door. I let my breathing steady as the alcohol polluted my veins. It felt good.

"The door," I started, my eyes still shut. "Does it open a lot? Why did you act like it opens a lot?"

I'd been holding onto the question for days. Maybe a few weeks? I wasn't keeping track of time anymore.

I needed to ask. It could be our way out.

"No." I took another shot as his voice ripped through the air. "The door is inconsistent. Sometimes, it will open after a few days. Other times, it will take a year. It's all inconsistent. Like you said. But, I do think it's them."

I rolled my eyes. He couldn't possibly believe it was The Blood. He was a fool if he did. It was too inconsistent. If it were The Blood, we would be expected to stand by the door, at midnight sharp, awaiting our brains to be fried.

Sitting here, taking shots, would not be in the realm of The Blood's punishment. This room was grace compared to The Blood.

Surprisingly, Karro continued. "I've memorized it out there. It is just that room. There are no windows or doors. No escape. It's just our room and that room--"