Grithim

CHAPTER 3

For the continuation of the week Xander had nightmares. Some began differently, like in the power plant he used to work in, or by the boat docks where his brother did, but they all ended the same. In the object-less room, drowning in his own orange blood. Then, after he awoke screaming, almost drowning in his own sweat and tears, Xander would get up and walk about the hut to clear his head. He wanted to breath fresh air, feel the warmth of the sun that slipped through the clouds, but he couldn't. Jade had told, basically ordered, Xander to stay in the medical hut until he had fully healed and Cora advised the same. He knew he could ignore the two, but deep down he believed it would be safer for his wounds to heal without exposure to the outside world. So he was trapped, unable to fully gather his thoughts, confined to the medical hut.

From an early age most of the people that knew Xander would consider him to be a bright, happy child. Although he was quieter and more soft spoken then many of the other rambunctious kids his age, Xander had a considerably positive outlook on life, despite the fact that his country was being run by such a corrupt government. But here, on Grithim, Xander was incredibly alone, in pain, and becoming increasingly cynical. What was there to live for here after all? He had been ripped away from his family, his brother was dead, and possibly his parents as well. Who knew what the government would do or had already done to them, if they were still alive at all?

And all he could do was wait, wait until his stitches healed enough to escape the suffocating confounds of the medical hut. Wait until he could finally do something.

"Here," Jade said, thrusting a small pack at Xander, who was sitting on one of the two small beds in the medical hut.

Currently absorbed in his own thoughts, Xander didn't notice the incoming pack until it was too late, hitting him right in the area of his stitches. Hissing from pain, Xander began to bend over to grab the small packet, wincing as that movement pulled at his stitches.

Jade watched him struggling with scrutiny before telling him, "you'll be fine, trust me, I've endured far worse."

Although he knew it was better to keep quiet, Xander couldn't help but asking, "like what? What could be worse than being stabbed with a piece of driftwood?"

At this, Jade's green eyes narrowed, but beneath their surface flashed a much deeper emotion, "try be poked with a hot poker- several times."

Besides her eyes, Jade remained completely casual as she spoke. Her voice didn't waver and she stood stock still. It was because of this coolness that the meaning behind her words didn't register for Xander until a few moments had passed. Then, he froze in shock. Who would do such a thing? And did it occur on the island or the land they had all come from? Xander remained locked in thoughts for a moment, only drifting back to reality when he saw Jade begin to exit the hut out of the corner off his eye.

Unsure of what to do, Xander inched towards the edge of the mattress but didn't get up. He wasn't sure if Jade wanted him to follow. The hostile girl seemed to leave Xander with more questions than answers due to her unwillingness to explain what she was actually thinking. A few seconds passed before Jade peaked her head back in the hut, her hand resting on the doorframe.

"Are you coming...?" She asked, clearly annoyed with Xander's oblivious nature.

"Uhhh... Yes," Xander stammered quickly before hopping off the bed and leaving the hut despite the movements causing his stitches to ache. The boy had been trapped inside the hut for what felt like ages in order to recover from his numerous injuries, so he couldn't wait to go outside and stretch his legs.

As he walked outside the terrain underneath his feet changed, causing him to feel the rough sand beneath his feet and remind him that he had no shoes.