Beyond the Walls

Chapter 9

I always thought I had a wild appearance. Such thoughts were enhanced particularly when I was younger, stood next to my sister, Isabelle, who was always so well-kept and pretty. My eyes, a pale grey, as though all colour had been drained from them paired with my sharp nose always made me look cold, calculating, and untamed. Which I suppose I am, always have been. Contrast to Isabelle, whose curls were often contained within one or more neat braids, my hair has always had a mind of its own. Red. Unruly curls that always seem to have knots to be yanked out.

Sighing, I give up on my tangles, my eyes moving to the parts of me that now make my wildness even more distinct. My scars. I am riddled with them. There is the one at the back of my neck, the marred Red Leaf symbol burned into my skin by Hatchman. Whip wounds, also caused by Hatchman, one from my front licks higher than the rest, peeking out of my shirt, over my collarbone and almost around the side of my neck. The rest, the ones on my back and front are hidden beneath my clothing. I am going to acquire more scars yet. The wound across my throat, the one that should have killed me, will eventually become a disturbing scar. Then, there is the tracker. It is a small black ball embedded in my flesh, painful to touch, and with eight small spindles stretching out in all directions, clinging on to me. Like a spider.

At long last, I tear my eyes from my reflection in the mirror of the bathroom and trudge back into the bedroom. I have been assigned a new room since I escaped my previous one. I sink into the thin mattress and my hands want nothing more than to hold the handles of my sword or my dagger. But they were both taken from me when I was sedated the other day. At least I have been given new clothes. I peel off the scratchy grey short-sleeve and pull on the softer long-sleeved top before slipping into the bed.

I close my eyes and suddenly all I can see are Ruben's green eyes. Where is he now? Are they plotting another way to get me out of the Red Movement? For his sake, I hope he doesn't come for me. I will only bring him more pain. Although the other part of me, the selfish part of me aches for him. But he is gold. He is the sun, warm, inviting and all-encompassing. And I am a wildfire, raging, unpredictable, chaotic. I do not want to burn him. The only thing that keeps me determined to find him is the thought of never being able to see his green eyes again. What if I forget the sound of his voice? Or the way his lips pressed against mine?

---

The water ripples at my feet. My reflection refracts off the surface, bouncing with the current. My hair is too red for the cool colours of the river. From the other side of the River, he calls my name.

"Elle." He beckons me to join him, smiling.

Without hesitation, I yank the boots from my feet and dive into the river. My chest seizes as the icy temperature at once bores into my skin. I want to gasp. I want to rise to the surface. But I don't. The current is too strong and it effortlessly begins to drag me downstream. The water roars in my ears. My body tumbles with the violent speed of the current. I do not know where I am, who I am, only that I am at the mercy of the River. I am a part of it. Then all at once, the current slows and I seem to become suspended in the water.

That's when Ruben plunges into the River with me. Bubbles cascade up to the surface, but he remains under. His eyes open, piercing green.

Perhaps I am drowning. Perhaps I am dying. But it's okay. His eyes are the colour of the sea and his soul is as vast, deep, and wild as the ocean itself. And I know have been drowning for a lot longer than this.

Then all at once, the water surges beneath me, pushing me towards the surface with such force that I burst out of the River and am jerked to consciousness.