The Third

Chapter 10 // Morals

Volts and volts of fiery electricity shot through my body, and silver metal spikes dug into my hand. My body felt like it had dropped into a state of paralysis, and I felt weightless. It was like the feeling of falling in a dream. When you're soundly asleep, in a peaceful state. And you know you're okay, you know you're firmly on ground, but it jolts you awake. Only this time, I kept descending.

And I wasn't quite dreaming, as much as I wished I was.

I played the musical sound of his slightly accented voice in my head, and envisioned his perfectly sculpted face and his smooth tan skin. I hoped that I'd live, he'd live, so I could touch it once more.

Then I envisioned that skin; dried and withered. His face; gasping for air, burning. I heard his voice again in my mind, but this time crying for help. The sound rang around my head, coming from the North and echoing from the South. He cried for help, cried for me, cried for salvation. Cried for anything.

I felt my already stiff back hit a hard surface, although I couldn't tell if anything was really happening.

A loud popping noise and a fierce pain emitted from my neck and down my spine.

And everything fell to a silent, black, peaceful state.

--

My eyes eased open and the sunlight stung them. Attempting to adjust to it, I looked around, hoping to recognize my surroundings.

It did not happen.

I was obviously in motion, in a vehicle. I could feel the pain of my upper back and neck becoming increasingly vigorous, with every bump we went over.

"What the fu...what happened..?" I sighed out loud, as it was completely unclear to me what had happened in the past hour.

A low pitched, agonizing moan came from someone, unquestionably within feet of me.

I thought I was alone, so instinctively I twitched and let it catch me off guard.

I didn't dare say another word, I'd learned my lesson not to speak my mind.

I lifted my sweating hands to rub my eyes, again trying to adjust to the light.

No luck.

I wondered if it was like this everywhere.

If innocent people were constantly being taken.

Constantly being forced to bottle up their feelings.

Constantly trying to take their lives;

in hopes of escaping this cruel world.

I didn't understand how these creatures could live with themselves. Ruining freedoms and lives and high hopes. Wouldn't a few have feelings? Realize that their "morals" are wrong? Realize that we, too, have morals?

I just wanted change.

--

Another moan, sigh, gasp, whatever the depressing sound was; came from the same direction, though it sounded closer. I opened my eyes now with less trouble, and saw an outline of two figures. One in a gray prison uniform, the other in a dark colored cloak.

A commander. 

We appeared to be in the back of a pickup truck, which was somewhat comforting, considering the last time I'd been in one was back home with my dad many years ago.

This brought a flood of pleasant memories rushed into my mind.

Short trips to the ice cream shop, to the beach...another quick whirl around the block, just because.

The commander, sitting opposite to me, directed his attention towards my hand. I didn't notice but I had been tracing it up and down the length of my thigh.

Nervous habit.

I looked up and him and we made eye contact...that never happened with his kind. His eyes were sincere. Expecting to find other commanders, two perhaps, I was shocked when he was the only one. I thought they only traveled in threes?

I felt a hand on my shoulder and a whisper in my ear, and it broke my gaze with the commander. I jumped a little bit and whipped around to match the voice with a face. "Kim..."

Looking into his eyes felt like home. Brown pools of home with faint green tracks running through its center.

"Kim!"

I used all my energy to focus in on the details, and surely enough it was him. I couldn't forget the long dark hair, and the French tint in his voice that made him say my name so uniquely.

I squeaked out the words that were dying to come out. "Mattaeus?"

And I froze when I spoke his name.

"Kimberly," he reached slowly for my hand and slid his fingers into mine. He squeezed tightly, but not too tightly. "We're gonna be okay."

The door of the truck bed opened.