Page 6 of Strange Love

Suddenly, he crouches in front of me, his large frame looming over mine. The touch of his hand against my cheek is surprisingly gentle for someone so intimidating.

“Well, that was very brave,” he remarks, his voice filled with unexpected admiration. “What is your name?” His tone has softened, and I struggle to form words in response.

I croak, “Ivy.”

“That’s a beautiful name,” he says. “How old are you, Ivy?”

I shift uneasily and take a deep breath before answering.

“Twelve,” I say, my voice trembling.

His thumb brushes against the red welt on my cheekbone, and for a moment, I flinch away. He notices, and his tone turns critical.

“What happened here?” he asks softly.

My heart races as I debate whether or not to tell him the truth. Before I can decide, Peter speaks up.

“Sally did it,” he says, avoiding eye contact. “The girl tried to grab her backpack—“

Auron cuts him off with a firm tone, “Enough!”

His angry voice echoes through the room, causing me to jump in surprise. Auron suddenly becomes calm and calls Sally over, my backpack still slung over her shoulder. His eyes narrow as they scan her frail frame.

“Who gave you permission to touch this girl?” he demands, his anger flaring.

Sally shuffles from foot to foot, avoiding Auron’s intense gaze.

“No one,” she mumbles. “But she’s been a nuisance since we tried to grab the sister.”

Auron grabs her face roughly, moving it from side to side to examine her closely.

“Have you been using drugs today?” he growls, his hand slipping down to grip her thin neck tightly in a vice grip.

His grip on Sally’s throat tightens, her face turning a shade of purple as she gasps for air. Her pleading eyes meet his with terror, and her tongue protrudes from between her lips. With one final, forceful push, he releases her, and she crumples to the ground in a heap. Auron turns to Peter, his knuckles still white from the exertion.

“Take her away,” he commands. “If this happens again, you know what must be done.”

Tears well up in Peter’s eyes as he gazes down at her.

“But she’s my wife,” he tries to reason.

“She is also a risk to our mission,” Auron replies coldly, showing no sympathy for Peter’s heartache. “Do you serve your wife, or do you serve the Voice of the Sky?” Auron asks.

“The Voice, of course,” he answers contritely.

“Take her to the woods to dry out and leave the backpack,” Auron barks. Sweat beads on Peter’s forehead, but he nods and carefully lifts Sally’s limp body into his arms. They reach the wooden door, but Auron’s voice stops them. “Do not disappoint me again, Peter,” he growls.

Auron grabs my backpack and sets it on his desk, “What do you have in this backpack that is so important, Ivy?”

Everything in that backpack means the world to me right now. “Some things from home,” I stutter.

With precise movements, he carefully removes each item from my backpack. He places them on his desk with delicate care: a well-loved pencil pouch filled to the brim with vibrant markers, a neat stack of Peechee folders, each bearing a subject title written in meticulous handwriting, my cherished Scooby Doo lunch box, a gift from last Christmas, and my tattered but beloved Strawberry Shortcake doll who has been by my side for over two years. My pulse quickens as he thoroughly scrutinizes each possession before him. I’m terrified that he will throw everything away or toss it in the large fireplace.

“Ivy,” he says sternly, “We don’t allow any distracting material items here at The Station.” Please don’t throw my life away.

“The Station?” I manage to squeak out.

“Yes,” he says with a nod of his head. “This is where you live now.” No, no, no, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.