Resurrect The Sun (A BVB Wretched and Divine fanfiction)

Chapter 9

"Don't be." Andy was sympathetic, but Jake was already turning away, pulling his mask back on and grabbing his bag with controlled, mechanic movements. After a pause and a helpless look at the rest of us, Andy copied him. We did the same, and headed out of the door, Jake being the one to lead the group this time.

We went out of the back door, the way we had come, and crossed an alley that allowed us a view of the square. Thankfully, The Monarch was still talking and people were too distressed to notice the shadows in the alley, so no one saw us.

"Don't look." Kier whispered to me, referring to the stage. I didn't want to. I could picture Ella's body hanging lifeless all too clearly and felt sick to my stomach. The wave of hate I felt towards F.E.A.R. now was ten times what I had felt before. They were just pure evil. How could anyone still believe in them?

The mood on the way back was somber; the raid had lost its fun. Even CC, Suki and Ashley, who were almost always witty and animated were walking along with their heads bowed, shooting Jake sympathizing looks and murmuring softly to each other. I hung back, at the rear of the group, fighting angry tears. It was just so unfair. So horrible. So cruel.

Nobody talked the whole way back, just walking and sitting in the Jeep in silence. I wanted to say, do anything to break the tension or make Jake feel a little better, but I had never been in this position before and didn't know what to do.

As soon as Jake's feet hit the floor after descending the ladder, he ripped his mask from his face and was off, striding at running pace down the corridor, head bowed so his face was hidden from view. People who had been walking jumped aside, watching him go with puzzled expressions. In a split second decision I knew I would probably regret, I ran after him.

He disappeared up one corridor lined with rooms and disappeared, so I followed. I wasn't sure which room was his until I stopped outside the one with duct-taped cardboard serving as a door, with the number '56' on it. I stopped because I heard muffled, broken, sobs coming from inside.

"Jake?" I called softly, hovering unsurely outside the door.

The sobs abruptly stopped, "Go away." Came the faint groan.

Ignoring this, I pushed the cardboard to the side slightly and peered into the dark room. He was lying on his mattress, face pressed into his pillow. He hadn't taken his war paint off and the off-white fabric was smudged. His head lifted and looked at me. Through his hair, I saw that his expression was bleak, and the skin around his eyes red and puffy. There was a small, flat square on the mattress next to him. It was a photograph. I took a hesitant step into the room. He didn't stop me. Then another.

I sat down carefully beside him. Still he remained silent. After a pause I gently picked up the photo and looked at it. It was faded and crinkled. The picture had been taken out in the desert, the sun shining down on the happy, young couple with their arms around each other. Jake looked younger, maybe in his late teens or early twenties, his hair shorter and his eyes happier. He was looking down at the girl beside him. Ella. She was pulling a silly face at the camera, but even with her tongue poking out and her face screwed up it was clear she was still beautiful. Her dark hair was in a braid, with a white fabric rose stuck behind her ear. It broke my heart to see how content they had once been, and now everything was destroyed. This girl wouldn't pull any more stupid faces at the camera or wear anymore flowers in her hair. This man would never look at anyone else with the same shining love in his eyes.

"Jake..." I sighed, not sure how I should comfort him. Looking up from the photo, I saw him watching me, expressionless, "I'm so sorry, Jake."

"Why?" His tone was blunt, "You weren't the one to hang her."