Into the Void

Chap #11 - Regret

"~ 'Why don't you come out and play?' ~"

Ella thrashes and kicks out at her captor, landing only a few weak blows as I run to her aid. My feet pound on the earth.

"I'm coming Ella!" My throat is raw from the frigid air entering my lungs, and my muscles feel like spaghetti, but I race on towards my sister. Her captor only hesitates briefly when he sees me sprinting towards them, but after his falter he continues to bind my sister's wrists with a length of rope. He slips a gag into her mouth, and I can see even from the distance I'm at how grimy the cloth is. The figure who has my sister captured starts to drag her by her hair back into the shadows.

"Ella!" My panic rises like bile in my throat, emerging in the form of a scream when I almost lose sight of her. My katana is at first heavy in my hand, but as I get accustomed to its weight after not using it for years upon years, it starts to feel like another limb, an extension of my arm. My breath becomes heavy and I curse myself for letting myself walk away in my cold fury and anger at James.

I'm almost there.

Ella's screams of fear tear through me and feed my increasing fire of hatred towards... this person... who's got my sister captured. The trees' shadows reach out to me and I welcome the cool air thankfully after the long run. I sprint on through the shadows, disregarding the stray branches that reach out and whip at me with clawed fingers. My sister screams out through the filthy cloth that's wrapped tightly around her mouth. The sound pierces the cool air, ringing and resounding. I hear her cry over the pounding of my feet, some small miracle as I'm running as fast and hard as my stiff legs will allow - which is not easy and certainly not painless after we've been walking for the whole day.

"Raina!" She sounds panicked, her voice somewhat muffled. It only increases my drive and makes me run faster despite the stiffness of my limbs. I can't hear James behind me, and would expect him to be since he seems oh-so concerned with our safety. I whip my head around, continuing to run, and catch not a single glimpse of him in his baggy black hoodie.

"James! Where are you?" I scream, my throat getting sorer and increasingly more raw with every breath of the frigid air that enters my lungs. It's exceptionally chilly for early September, and I'm hoping against all odds that the breaths of air that puff out of my mouth as I run are not the result of voids in the area. I shiver as I run on, wondering half-heartedly if James left us. Alone. With possible looters. Goosebumps prickle my skin as the startling and terrifying thought comes to me... What if it was a looter, either a lone one or a scout from a nearby pack, that stole away Ella? With this new realization fresh on my mind, I force myself to run faster. My poor legs aren't going to be happy with me later...

"Raina!" This voice isn't Ella's, but lower in tone and most definitely masculine. "Over here, stop running! You're never going to catch him, and you'll just tire yourself out." I look around me, my eyes more than once finding and skimming the treeline area where I last saw my sister and her captor. They've long disappeared. Some part of my stubborn brain knows that James is right, that I'll never catch them... That basically, my sister is lost. But, hence the word "stubborn,"another won't let me stop running.

And I guess that indecision is partly why I come to find myself laying on the ground with a newly twisted ankle - the same one prone to prior injury - and no hope of getting up. Strangely, I don't hear laughter behind me. Instead I hear fast footsteps crunching towards me from behind. I'm face down in the autumn leaves, my nose pressed against the damp carpet, and its earthy aroma fills my nose. I breath in the scent, happy for some comfort. I let a single lonely tear slip down my cheek, wondering silently if I'll ever see Ella again. Some small part of me, my own personal optimist (one I didn't even know I had), reminded me that life is full of the unexpected and I need to get used to that if I'm gonna live a full one. The voice in me that sees the best in everyone, makes the best of all situations, and smiles even when the sky is crying down on the world says softly that Ella will be back, in full flying colours. I ache to believe it, but ninety nine percent of me is often a sour pessimist, and so it's against every instinct in my body to get my hopes up. I'm unable to move, lying on the ground, and nearly every inch of my body is numb with guilt. Slowly, gradually, I come to realize a throbbing pain in my ankle and warm blood from the fresh scrapes.