Citizen

Chapter fifteen // p2

Stepping out into the chill night air was like walking into another world. There were cracks in the pavement she hadn't noticed before, uneven trees and peeling paint that her eyes had glossed over without really taking them in. At night the streets were quiet, empty, dark. Not the bright and social lanes she was used to. It was better though; this felt less forced. This felt real.

Gritting her teeth, she jogged up the street, her anger carrying her towards the train. The cruel steps were a trip hazard, but she'd taken them so many times she didn't even have to look down. The station was empty. A light breeze blew a piece of plastic around the cavernous space. She watched it, feeling more and more stupid as her anger began to ebb.

Shaking her head to clear it, she pressed down on her bracelet. The face burst into light and threw the world around her into shadows. It read 02:24. Early morning. Great. She would be lucky to catch the final train of the night. A sharp beep sounded through the air as the tunnel began to glow, growing brighter with every second.

"Speak of the devil," she muttered, frowning as the words left her lips. They felt foreign, unnatural; as though someone else had said them. She had meant to say 'Controller' like the phrase she'd grown up hearing, but the word 'devil' came out instead. She had no idea what it meant, or where she had heard it, but there was something familiar about it that she couldn't put her finger on.

She stepped inside, flinching as the doors closed behind her with a click. The train was empty. Though it was made up of many compartments, hers was the only one with a light on. The shadows swirled and fought as she stared into their depths, praying this was all a dream.

The compartment was cold without the comfort of other people, but she felt more at ease than she had in awhile. Maybe it was the lack of crowds and strangers, which caused her throat to tighten as though she was being suffocated, or maybe it was the silence. Either way, her anger had almost completely disappeared.

The light pitter patter of footsteps pulled her back to the present. Eyes whipping from side to side, her gaze settled on the shadows to her left. There was a suggestion of movement in its depths, formless and indistinct. Her heart began to race as the hairs on her arms rose.

"Hello?" She got to her feet, voice shaking, brows furrowed. "Is anyone there?"

The floor creaked to her right. She whipped around. Though she couldn't see a face or a body, there was something there; a presence of some sort. It was like waking up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water and knowing exactly where your bedside table was despite it being pitch black. An intuition.

Somehow, she found the courage to speak. "I-I don't want any trouble." Her tone rose a few octaves at the end, pleading with whatever was hiding in the shadows. Whoever, she corrected herself. It wasn't a scary creature from one of her novels; it was just a person, and people in Arabel didn't hurt each other, that much she knew for sure. In that frozen moment between fight and flight, she looked at her reflection in the glass window, and saw the dark figure behind her.

"That isn't up to you."

A sharp blow to the back of her knees knocked her off her feet. Pain rocketed up her wrists as she threw them out to catch herself. Gasping, she struggled to her feet, slipping on the smooth floor as a hand yanked her ankle backwards. Arms snaked around her waist and lifted her off her feet, and though she struggled it barely made a dent on the thick man behind her. As he flung her around to face the window, she took him in; face hidden behind a hood, broad shoulders, and a head that brushed the ceiling.

"Help me! Someone help me please-"

The grip on her waist slackened as a hand clamped down on her mouth, muffling her shout. He tasted of sweat and soot and blood. Kyra resisted the urge to gag.