Sapphire Bones

Brave

L

Roddy and I didn't speak the hours prior to the execution of our escape plan. We didn't need to, and if Cole stayed fast asleep our plan was flawless. I watched Roddy from one side of the large cage; he sat with his back to the fence on one far side while I stayed on the other. My knees were up to my chest with my chin resting on the caps while I waited for noise in the distance to cue our escape plan. The pain in my jaw was there, buzzing every so often as a reminder of my body's limits. The air around us swirled in warm waves, the embrace of satin on skin with the peach fuzz on my arms tickling into the fabric of my shirt. My hair fell from behind my ears to curtain off my peripheral vision but I didn't bother fixing it. It didn't matter, anyway. I would hear anything before seeing a signature in the distance. My pants felt loose around my legs, but they were a covering I couldn't afford to lose twice. I scratched at the denim and stared forward at Roddy who sat near Cole's body. He spoke with him in hushed tones, innocent words of endearment. After a while he stopped and got up from his place, but didn't come any further away from the fence on his side.

"You look better with short hair," Roddy called as if filling a silent void between the two of us. I perked up. "It didn't happen on the best of terms but it does suit you," he shrugged and went quiet, waiting for my answer perhaps but I didn't have anything to give. The long hair I had been growing for twelve years – minus the haircut Peter gave me halfway through my stay with him – acted as a security blanket in a world full of ice that worked to dig into old wounds of mine. With waist length hair, I hid, burrowed in on myself and disappeared, but without it I felt exposed in a way I had never experienced before. Even while sitting in a cage surrounded by a vast forest I couldn't help but sense eyes on me through the trees.

"I haven't thought much about my looks since I lost my vision," I muttered loud enough for my companion to hear across the yard. He stifled a laugh, shaking his head.

"Figures you wouldn't but for someone who's been through as much shit as you have you don't look half like a corpse. I expected worse."

My tongue rolled over my top teeth and I grinned with one side of my mouth only. My looks probably scared children but I didn't care either way. I had nothing else to give. Everything else was taken from me.

"A shower and a couple bars of soap and you'll be good as new," he said after a moment. I couldn't help the smile growing on my face. His gentle words of encouragement stuck in my brain like gum on the sidewalk. I gathered them in my hand and smothered them with my palms, rolling the doughy compliments into a ball.

"I'd like a toothbrush while we're at it," I said, laughing. "I haven't brushed my teeth since the night before the trial and I'm really starting to feel the gunk."

"Ew," he responded shortly. "I mean at least you've still got all your teeth," he started. "Some prisoners come away from their mercenaries with a significant number less teeth than when they went in."

"But is that because of poor hygiene or beatings? Because I've seen both sides of the story," I countered. "As much as I hate to say it, I was lucky with Peter. He valued hygiene and wanted me to look my best in case they pushed my trial up. Said something about how he wanted my face to look pretty mounted on the wall." I shuddered at the thought of my decapitated head dripping with blood and loose veins, strung up on a plaque with a shiny gold plaque underneath reading: Eleanor Bates, Mass Murderer. The thought of my full name, Eleanor Bates, sent more shivers through my spine than the idea of my decapitated head.

"Well since most of said prisoners ended up losing their heads in the end I guess we can't ask," Roddy sighed, defeated that he'd never find out the truth but in honesty I knew our conversation meant absolutely nothing to either of us. I saw his hands trembling across the yard and it wasn't because of the chill that sliced through the gaps between trees. He scratched behind his ear with a couple fingers every minute or so, and rubbed his eyes with the sides of his knuckles.