Rise [Bruno Mars]

Chapter fifteen

Chapter fifteen

“Stop,” I hissed furiously at Ris. “Stop looking at me like that!”

Ris, taken aback again by another outburst, (I'd snapped at her to stop crying on me) scooted further away, expression one of hurt confusion. A pinch of guilt did nothing to extinguish my sudden flare of anger. My parents. Viewed as heroes to people like Ris, and I couldn't agree more, my father was my hero, but what infuriated me was the way Ris stared at me, as if I was one.

“Don't look at me like I'm some angel, Ris,” I spat, my eyes burning. “Do you know what I did? I left hundreds, hundreds of people to burn, when Grim was on fire. I just left them; with no concern except for myself and Bruno.”

Ris wiped her face with her sleeve. When she finished I saw her admiration had not wavered. She even puffed out her chest a little in defiance.

“I left Joseph!” I yelled, knowing this would make her understand. Her cheeks turned rosy at his name. “Him, and his father. I left them to die.”

Ris bit her lip, appearing disbelieving.

“I could've done something,” I said now in a quiet whisper, glancing at the ceiling before setting my gaze upon her, “I could've tried to do something, Ris. Anything. But I didn't.

“Even. . . Even when my parents escaped Grim, they caused a lot of people to die, like Joseph's mother. But see, the people there, they never dreamed of escape as my parents did so my parents were on there own. So yes, Ris, keep seeing them as liberators or however. But me. . . I left people to burn, Ris. To burn.”

Ris looked to her lap. I felt a fleeting stab of triumph in spite of myself. I was no hero, no savior. I was hardly succeeding with Bruno's life. I didn't deserve to be looked at as one. She finally understood that.

*

“I don't hear anything,” I said, my ear pressed to the wall where Ris thought the door to be.

Ris shook her head, saying she didn't either.

I sighed, and we slunk away from the wall at the same time. I rubbed at the crook in my neck. We'd had our ears to the wall for what seemed like hours. Silence rose in the small, four walled room as it always did, only my voice being able to lift and carry it away.

“Do you know what my parents look like?” I asked her after the prolonged silence.

Ris shook her head sadly, her shoulders sinking.

“Well, my mom has brownish reddish hair, with auburn eyes,” I described my mom's key assets, in hopes to cheer her up. Her sadness at my being a disillusionment had not elevated. She shifted towards me with an awkward motion, eager to hear more. I rushed on to describe my dad, smiling. “My dad, we have the same eyes and hair. It's styled like mine, too.” I ran my hand over my head, making sure all the strands were on the left side. Ris' pale blues followed the movement, alight. “Do you know he died?”

She nodded mournfully.

I raised an eyebrow. “Murdered by the Incurses?”

Again, a nod. Her eyes shone with tears.

“Word must travel fast in the research world, huh? Everyone speaks of it? Where you come from?”

Yes.

“Did you have your own pair of Incurses?”

No.

“Joseph killed the Incurses,” I said, and the way shock crossed her mouse features I knew this was new information for her. I shrugged. “And I'm glad. I would've still had a father in my life if it weren't for them. Joseph would've had a mother. . .”

I lapsed into silence, taken over by a cloud of fury. It was because of facilities like this I was fatherless. I looked up to the camera and gave them a finger.

I laughed weakly as my wrist experienced a shock.

I caught Ris smiling at me and my laughter died. Her gaze darted to a spot of black dirt on her sleeve. I sighed. I didn't want her to think we were on bad terms. “Do you know why we're here? I mean, why me and the others are traveling in the—Unplotted?”

“Animus,” she answered, peeking at me.

“Yeah. . .” I trailed, not knowing what else to say and wishing profoundly I knew Latin and how to keep a conversation going.

“Your brother,” I began and Ris jerked, her eyes going the size of moons. “Oh. . . never mind,” I ended quickly.

But she held up her pink bow.

“Do I. . . want it?”

She shook her head.

I thought for a bit. “Your brother?”

She nodded, holding the hair accessory higher. “He gave it to you?” No. “It's. . . his?” I asked uncertainly. She nodded glumly, eyes swimming with tears again.

“That's cute,” I said, and meant it.

Ris beamed at me, coming tentatively forward. She reached for a lock of my hair, pinning the bow to it. I laughed, despite the urge to take it off since it's been in cat fur. “Thanks. My hair looks ten times better now.”

Ris nodded seriously, her fingers rubbing her shaven head. A frown pulled at her lips. I opened my mouth to ask her about her hair, however, the sight of a new tray's arrival prevented me. It protruded smoothly from the wall, carrying a ratty old blanket. Ris, being closest to it, took hold of it. The tray receded back into the wall. The lights went out.

My breath caught. It was as if someone put a bag over my head.

“Ris?” I called out in a whisper. I heard an abrupt, flapping sound, then felt her scratchy fingertips brush my arm. She guided it to the floor where my hand met thin cotton. She'd laid out the blanket. “What is this supposed to be?” I wondered aloud. “Some artificial night time?”

I couldn't see her, but knew she'd said yes.

“Are you tired? You sleep. I. . . I'm going to stay up.”

The back of my head rested against the wall. I searched for the light of the camera but even the darkness seemed to swallow that. I shut my eyes, feeling Joseph's tether undulate through my grasp like air. I opened my eyes. It didn't feel like I opened them at all. It was so dark. I curled my legs to my chest, breathing in Bruno's scent lingering on his hoodie. My chest contracted at the thought of him. I heard myself breathe a light, wistful sigh. Bruno. . .

He was sitting opposite of me, a thin candle between us on a white cloth table. The smooth tones of slow jazz created an atmosphere of ease, the other diners around us taking the mere appearance of silhouettes. Bruno reached across the table, clasping my hand in his. “We never had this dinner date.”

I looked into his eyes, lit by the candle light, and was reminded of a soft autumn's day.  “Well, you can't say that anymore,” I replied, smiling warmly.

Bruno's grin did not quite fade as a sad look came over him. “You sure about that?”

Bruno changed. His stature became taller, leaner, his skin paling to white. His eyes darkened to black, like his hair. His jaw morphed into the perfect sweep, lightly dusted with stubble. He'd become a different kind of beautiful.

“My sweet,” Bruno murmured, but he was no longer Bruno.

“Joseph,” I gasped, my gaze trailing to our clasped hands. His engulfed mine whole. Then I realized the silence. “Where's everyone?” I looked around. The other diners disappeared, took the music with them.

“It's only you and I.”

“You and I. . .”

Joseph rose, lifting my hand so I stood with him. “This is what you want.”

As we walked, the tables vanished. The walls and floor hardened to gray stone. Above, the ceiling so clear it was as if it was the night sky itself. Joseph guided me up the steps to the raised dais. He released my hand when we reached the two opulent thrones, gently lit silver by moonlight.

“Think of how many people we can free,” said Joseph quietly.

I ran my fingers longingly across the frame. “Yes.”

“You will become important, like your parents are.”

I started and looked up at him. “Important?”

“The gateway must open.”

I knew what he was about to do, because I wanted it too.

But I hesitated. “Bruno. . .”

Joseph's eyes flashed only once. “You will allow him to stop you from achieving what you truly desire?”

“No,” I said firmly.

“So turn to me.”

I turned to him. He drew close, tilting my chin up with a single pale finger. As he bent I closed my eyes, and parted my lips. . .

My eyes opened to a lit white room, a holey blanket drawn over my propped knees. Ris was watching me from across the room. She hastily looked away and pointed to the tray beside my head. More bread and water and, to my dismay, the strange purple liquid.

I was too distracted to go to the food at once. I hadn't meant to fall asleep and having not dreamt in so long. . . the dream I just had was one of the reasons why I never wanted to. Shame prickled down my insides as I reached for the tray.

I drank the purple stuff first, eating and drinking away the nasty taste of it.

The day was spent mostly thinking. Ris and I stared at the wall we thought to be the door, conjuring up images to see if it would open. Nothing worked. I slammed my fist against the wall, anger brewing within me.

To keep the silence at bay, I told Ris things about me. Like how I lived almost everywhere and had a small thing for nature, remembering the hills near Bruno's home in Los Angeles. She listened earnestly, and I hated how her expression grew fascinated when I told her I draw and paint, though I ignored it, feeling slightly ridiculous at how I was reacting towards her awe. It was only about art. In return, Ris showed me the things in her pockets. I had a feeling it was a mark of how strong she trusted me, and my chest flickered with warmth. What amazed me was the stone, which looked as though it was encased in a blue sky, and a long, decaying canine tooth which I hurriedly dropped when I figured out what it was.

At 'night', I dreamed of Bruno being devoured by flames, the Incurses laughing in the background, and Joseph would come, and kiss me on the cheek.

I woke in a cold sweat, the small room growing smaller, trembling and panting on the floor. Ris held a cup of water to my lips.

This happened for two more 'nights'. I kept count, and Ris would take out her piece of paper with the alphabet and numbers on it and show me the number of how long we've been here with pride. Each night, my panic doubled, because Bruno. . . Bruno. . . My boiling anger turned into the deepest loathing. Loathing. At them. Whoever they were. I hated them. For keeping us locked in here; depriving us of knowing; taking us against our will for their own personal use, and who knows how many others they had here; for stealing our time, because we could've been in Canada, Bruno could've been cured already. . . It was a hatred unlike I'd ever felt before settled deep within my heart.

On the fourth day, my mingled panic and anger and hatred still rising red like a temperature gauge, the door slid open in the exact spot Ris indicated it would.