Colourless

Chapter Five

My eyes snap open and I shoot upright, white cotton sheets pooling around my waist. With a gasp, I assess the unfamiliar room around me.

There I was, laying on a small bed with springs that squeaked and cried every time I moved — even blinked. The room itself was like something from a creepy cabin in a trashy horror film; with dark, wooden panels that were laced with cobwebs, and a small bookshelf was left to gather dust in the corner.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I grimaced at the obnoxious cry the bed made before clambering to my bare feet. The floor was colder than I imagined it would be, and caused me to scamper towards the closed bedroom door.

Suddenly, I remembered being in the car and then... nothing. Nothing at all.

It caused my breath to catch in my throat and I immediately flung open the door, stumbling into the hall in horror. Classic rock music from centuries ago blasted through an unseen stereo as I stumbled around the cabin, before finally coming upon Malik; briefly stopping to watch the curly-haired brunette glide around a small kitchen, donned with a heart-shaped apron, as he bounced along with the rhythm.

If it weren't for my confusion, perhaps I would have laughed; but, instead, I exhaled an unintentional scream. Malik leapt in fright, launching his spatula into the air and clutching at the counter. "Pearl! What the f— what are you doing?"

I blinked, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scream."

"Uh huh," Malik nodded, scanning his wide eyes over me, "Sure."

"I just— I remember the gunshot and— holy shit," I cursed, examining my body for wounds, "Was I hit? Am I alive? Is this hell?"

"No!" Malik exclaimed, flipping a pancake before stomping towards me, "Someone was was just doing target practice in the woods. It wasn't even anywhere near you! You just fainted, in fear of nothing!"

I pressed a hand over my heart, "I'm sorry... I'm not used to all of this like you are. I don't even know how you knew about me."

"Clear blood is hereditary," Malik explains, gesturing for me to take a seat at the small dining table. "It likes to skip a few generations... but, clearly you've got it."

"So, my family has it? But, how is that possible?" I blink confusedly, "My mother has red blood, my sister has blue—"

"Woah, woah, woah," Malik interjected, "Your sister? As in Melissa Damocles?"

My eyes widened, "You know her? Is she wherever we're going?"

"Knew," Malik correct sadly, my face immediately falling, "Melissa was clear-blooded, yes, but she also was like me, a Chaser. Chaser's go into the city after people who we presume to have clear blood."

The air seemed to escape my lungs and I placed a hand over my heart. "So... my sister's dead?"

"Oh, god, no. No!" Malik cursed beneath his breath, "I just meant she isn't in America anymore, she crossed the border a year ago to get to other clear-blooded people before the government could."

I breathed a sigh of relief, before harshly whacking Malik in the ribs. "You scared me," I groaned, resting my head in my hands. "The last thing I need right now is more surprises."

Malik snorted, returning to tending to his precious pancakes. "Well, get ready—" he threw me a smile over his shoulder— "'Cus we're heading to the only haven for people like you."

"Are there many?" I ask curiously, my brows furrowing, "Like me, I mean?"

Malik nodded, "Quite a few, actually. But, once the government found out, it posed an outlier to their little perfect algorithm."

"Presenting a whole new group to their system could have lead to a revolt. I think they assume that if one group of people fought for change, everyone would."

"Bastards," I grumble, "And I guess they kept everything hush hush for the same reason?" Malik simply nodded, before whirling around with a plated stack of fluffy pancakes. "Damn, I didn't know my savior was a chef."

"Savior," Malik smirks, "Say it again, I like that title."

"I'll throw my rings at you. They're like tiny missiles of fury."

"Not if you pass out first, cupcake."

***

As I stacked the last dish on the plastic drying rack, the eerie silence allowed my thoughts to consume me. Thoughts of Aria and my family, and would they face any consequences for my actions? Would they even know about the clear-blood factor in our bloodline?

Dismissing the thoughts with a shake of my head, I dry off my head on a fraying tea towel. "You okay?"

The groggy, Californian accent makes me jump in surprise, before I rest my hands atop the kitchen counter to help steady my breathing. "Fine," I nod once my breathing returns to normal — only just realizing that I had taken to rocking from the balls to the heels of my feet.

"You were standing there for, like, 20 minutes," Malik informs knowingly, squeezing past me to duck into the small fridge. "I thought you fainted again... but upright. You know, like how horses sleep?"

I roll my eyes, shooting him a glare, "Wow, Malik, thank you." Running a hand down my face, I take a glance at the kitchen clock and discover that I had actually been standing here for almost ten minutes. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"You looked like you needed a minute... probably a whole hour." Malik patted my shoulder comfortingly, before brushing past me once more. "You should get some rest. You'll need it."

___

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