Caged In

Chapter 14

When the exhaustion could beat the pain no longer, Harbin's consciousness returned.

He recognized the room he lived at Arland's house. He was in his bed that had fire-resistant sheets, the top one red and the others white.

Harbin got up, getting out of the left side of his bed. He stepped onto the yellow and orange carpet, which resembled a dancing fire but was actually quite soft. He stood facing a dresser and a mirror, which showed his disheveled hair, thanks to the pain that had him thrashing in his sleep.

He pushed his hair back with his left hand, a sharp pain shooting up his arm. Harbin dropped his arm by his side, examining his arm in the mirror. There was a bandage around it, but he lifted a lose edge, checking the scar.

The way the bandage rubbed against the raw skin felt like an itch he couldn't get ride of, but he knew if he scratched it, it would just feel worse.

What was he thinking? Why would he burn himself? Just because he was wanted to be in a group? He was so stupid, so foolish. But now, it was on his skin, a permanent scar. At least he wasn't left handed. But, that didn't mean that he'd be fine.

Harbin crossed the room to pull out a bag from the bottom draw of the desk in his room. It was his school bag, one of the few things he had from the Lost Cities. He dug through it until he found a painting that had been folded and ripped so many times, the painting no longer captured the beauty of what it once was.

Originally, he brought it with him to be a reminder why he was banished. But now, it showed him how much even that kid could change. Sure, then he was hated at school and by his sister, and now he was raised up by a murderer. He would be okay though. It wasn't Fintan's fault. His students just messed up.

Harbin wasn't going to let that happen again.

He put the painting back in the bag, shoving it back in the bottom draw where it would not be as noticed. Arland didn't like when Harbin mentioned his family and Fintan despised it, so if either saw he kept his father's painting, it would not go well for him.

Fingering through the clothes in his dresser, he found a white long sleeve shirt. It was loose on him, all their supplies coming from Arland, who still had enough of a presence in the Lost Cities to have access to some good clothes. Unfortunately, that meant that a teenager's clothes would not go unnoticed, so Arland could not buy clothes that fit Harbin properly. Recently, clothes for him better as he was almost the Lost Cities' adult age. It was mostly just longer on him since Arland was taller.

He grabbed a pair of brown pants, made sure his door was locked and changed clothes, tucking the extra fabric of the pants into his large boots.

Harbin went to unlock the door but hesitated, pulling a crystal he snuck from the Lost Cities out of his bag and putting it in the pocket of his pants at the ankle, using the boot to conceal it.

After putting the bag back, he left his room, finding Arland lounging on a couch in the living room.

"Hello," Harbin greeted him.

"Took you long enough." He stood, stretching. "I've been waiting for you to get up for a couple hours."

"I was asleep for a few hours?" Harbin asked. He was pretty tired when he got back.

"More like 27," Arland said, annoyance in his voice. "You wasted the whole day."

"I was asleep for 27 hours!?" Harbin exclaimed.

"Yes. You gave your medic quite a scare. The whimp. The most someone has been asleep for a minor thing like that was seven hours," explained Arland.

"Well, I was pretty tired," Harbin defended, "I didn't get any sleep before the—what did you call it—initiation."