I won’t lie and say I’ve never thought about kissing Char before. He’s attractive, in a very obvious, in-your-face kind of way, and for the last thirteen years he’s been my constant through every storm, every trial life has thrown at us.
He’s the one who held me when my sisters died. The one who kept me alive during the first trial when we were just fifteen years old. He’s the one I’d sneak out to meet in the middle of the night so he could teach me how to use my knife, a knifethathegave to me,stolefor me.
I prefer his company over all others.
But still, thinking about kissing him and actually kissing him are two very different things. And for whatever reason, I didn’t think kissing him would feel likethat.
I shake my head. He kissed me. He loves me. Char will protect me.
I need to get home. I need to pack like he said. I need to…suddenly my heart aches because if I leave, if I go, then I can never come back. I’ll never see my parents again. I’ll live the rest of my life on the run.
My throat goes dry, and I can’t breathe. I’m the only child they have left.
How can I leave them?
How?
I inhale a deep, slow breath and force myself to put one foot in front of the other.
I need to get home. I need to say goodbye. I need to tell them what’s happened. They’ll understand.
Won’t they?
The place Char left me is only one street away from the front door of my apartment.
I should’ve expected as much.
He always takes care of me, and with the rest of our age group probably well aware of my status as an Essentari, they’ll be hunting me soon.
If they haven’t started already.
I need to be quick. Quick and unseen.
Chances are, they don’t know where I live, so I have a little time. An hour, maybe two.
I’m a nobody. A nothing. No one’s ever paid much attention tome.
No one except Char.
Easing the door to my home open, I slip inside. It’s dark in our apartment; it always is. There used to be something called electricity, but that’s been gone for a long time. We use candlelight to see, and right now, not many of the candles are lit. We must be low on matches again.
The hallway is narrow. Lined with green wallpaper that’s peeling at the corners.
I enter the first room on the left.
Myroom.
The one I used to share with Telfi. Pain stabs at my chest at the mere thought of her, but I force it away.
Moving toward the dresser that rests unevenly in the corner, I strip Char’s shirt from my body and toss it to the ground. I pull on a clean pair of pants and a fresh blouse.
My fingers glide over the leaves of the many plants that inhabit my space. They sit on nearly every shelf, some stretching to the ceiling with vines that snake across the walls. Thick and green and full of so much life. A shocking amount of life, considering the amount of water they receive, which isn’t much.
Truthfully, they should be dead, but somehow a sprinkle here and there seems to do the trick. Telfi used to joke that I was the one keeping them alive by sheer force of will, a comment that would always make me laugh.
Whatever the case, I’m grateful for it. Plants help me feel calm, and as someone who struggles with that feeling, I’ve surrounded myself with as many as possible.
My heart lurches at the sound of scratching at my window. It’s a sound I’m all too familiar with, but it never fails to startle me just the same.
