Can we become ourselves again? It doesn’t feel like it. I take a deep breath as I draw circles languidly on his arm.
Turmoil has been my long-seated friend through this. I can’t seem to untangle the mess of memories in my head. I can no longer tell if anything he’s ever said to me before was true or not. Why did he push me away like I was nothing? Why did I let myself trust him?
My heart seems to be the only thing that remains unwavering, holding out for some reasonable answer so I can go back tobeing a bright-eyed, foolish soldier. But I’m not sure I’ll ever see that version of myself again. She was unmarred by love. She was too content for her own good.
I trace Cameron’s jawline and sharp cheekbones with my gaze, torturing myself by watching the lovely soldier sleep. His beauty is unparalleled, tormented even in his dreams. I’m not sure I’ll ever fully realize why I’m drawn to such self-destructive things such as him. I yearn to bask in his heavy stare, even with the knowledge that he tried to kill me.
A long-winded breath escapes my parted lips as I climb onto the bed beside him. My body is small next to his chest. His torso alone is big enough for me to curl up on. I rest my head on his chest and breathe in his crisp birch scent.
“How is it that I had forgottenyouof all people? Cameron…” I say his name somberly, the taste of it is bittersweet and leaves sadness on my tongue.
I clear my throat and pull out his silly little poetry book that he carries everywhere with him, opening it to the most worn and well-read page, and reading him the passages he must know like the back of his hand.
I tell myself it’s to comfort him, but selfishly, I know I’m doing it to comfort me.
“He’s awake.”
My feet halt mid-step at the sound of Reed’s voice as it comes through the wireless earbud. I was walking along the skyline roof toward the railing where I often sit. Over the past few days, sitting up here is the only place I seem to be able to find peace. The city lights flicker in the distance and the steady flow of cars on the roadways from this high up sound like the river.
The world seems lonely out here at one of our foreign outposts.Light pollution from the city dabbles out and turns into pitch-black before reaching us. It leaves me wondering where the stars begin and where they end. Though, I don’t think anything can compare to the stars I saw while I was in the Under Trials with Cameron. Maybe it was the companionship that I loved most. The friends and sense of belonging that I found.
I dismiss Reed’s message and take out my earbud, letting it fall to the rooftop. My legs guide me to my usual spot and I sit at the ledge of the building, arms hanging limply from my elbows on the railing and letting my legs dangle in the cold breeze.
We’re somewhere in Northern Germany. My father never tells me exactly where we are when we go on missions. “The less people that know, the better,” he always said, and this hideout is no different.
The executioner is always in the dark. Keeping my source of information low is likely a control tactic or if I’m taken hostage. It never bothered me much before, but it does now. Especially since my father has upped the security on me while I’m not working. I exhale and glance down at a guard in the courtyard who watches me idly while he’s chatting with another passing henchman.
After a long flight from the Great Basin, the cold makes my joints stiff. I take a deep breath and watch numbly as the mist rolls from my lips. The brisk bite in the air feels the same as the Alaskan breeze, chilling me to the bone.
I take out my pill bottle and roll it in my hand, listening to capsules rattle. It’s still half-full and Reed is having his team work on replicating more. I was hesitant on sharing the doses and times with him because he seemed overly eager to hear everything about the medication, but Cameron needed his doses even while asleep so he wouldn’t relapse.
Cameron.I think of his lingering stares and the touch of his fingers brushing through my hair so delicately while lying so sweetly to me.Claiming that he’s never braided my hair before.I scoff. Whowould’ve guessed someone as dangerous as Mori could have it in him to braid so gently? My heart softens at the precious memory.
Then I recall his cruel and distant behavior. I groan, setting my head on my arms.
I’m not ready to see him.
What would I even say? Should I tell him that I remember everything we’ve been through or go on as the girl who forgot him? It certainly seems like that’s what he prefers based on how he’s been treating me.
My chest curls with the winter chill. How am I supposed to feel after hearing the pain and fear in my own voice, begging for him not to kill me? To wake up.
And now he’s awake.
He’s awake, and I’m stuck in this nightmare still half asleep, and yet I’m already being pressured back into “taking care” of the job list Greg Mavestelli has curated. It’s a list of names pinned to a board downstairs in my room. It’s the temporary resting space that my dad has me staying in while I’m working in this location. I have many rooms across the world. Many abandoned places with beds I’ve slept in maybe once.
All I want to do is wake up from this reality I’m trapped in. Is it too far out of my reach to dream of a life outside this one?
My weary eyes shift to the city beyond, the cars gliding through the night. Everyone is moving on without me in it.
Without Cameron.
We’re like ghosts already, or maybe we always were. I haven’t quite decided yet. Does everyone back at the base think we’re dead? My hand instinctively reaches up and brushes the back of my neck where the tracker was removed. I hope everyone got back okay.
After half an hour the metal roof door screeches open. I don’t bother turning around to see who it is. Reed discovered that this is where I’ve been escaping to the first day we arrived. I hate howperceptive he is, but at least he seems to care about my well-being, unlike my father. Although, I’m certain his care only extends to my usefulness to him. Reed has always been kind to me, but he’s different. I’m not sure he understands what it is to actually cherish anything.
My cheeks are cold against the sleeve of my black puffer jacket, but I don’t mind. At least being frozen is the closest thing to pain I can feel.
Footsteps approach slowly and then stop altogether as a light dusting of snow starts to drift down from the sky.
