"Are you going to be okay?" Phillip inquired.
We were standing in the hallway, right in front of room D. Before I had the chance to walk in, Phil had grabbed my wrist. Seemingly worried, he gave off a stressed vibe mixed with exhaustion, concern—similar to a mother. The stress was aging him, adding a few extra years on his shoulders. Sighing, I pried the boy's hand off of me, though that wasn't likely assuring. I hope he doesn't worry too much... I don't want Phillip to worry about skittish details.
"I'll be fine," I assured, "don't worry about me—just go back to the Hall."
"Are you sure?" he pestered. "If you want, I can stay here and watch over your match... just for safe keeping"
"That's not necessary," I replied, "I told you already: I'll be fine. You need to stop worrying so much, Phillip."
"Al?" he softly asked. He began to tremble and peered down at the ground, downcast. I glanced at his hands. His palms were sweaty and in order to hide the fact, clenched his fists, digging his nails into his clammy skin. It was only a moment before he would start hyperventilating, adding an additional symptom to his obvious anxiety.
"Yes?"
"Don't believe everything she says," he told me, face solemn, "she's known to be a chronic liar."
"How do you know that?"
"I have my ways," he murmured, leaving much to the imagination, "be careful."
"I will, thanks," I stated, looking through the door. A figure was facing the wall, tapping her fingers against her arms whilst she impatiently tapped her feet. I gulped. There she was...standing in the corner, awaiting my arrival. My hold on the doorknob tightened. Though they were shaking, it was barely noticeable. Inhale, exhale—I heaved in and out, attempting to calm my nerves. It's okay, Alastair—you'll do fine... hopefully. Before I could scare myself into submission, warmth rested on my shoulder. I glanced behind me, taking note that Phillip had rested a hand on me.
"It's okay," he said, comforting me, "when you're close to getting hurt, someone will come and help you."
"I know," I replied, turning the doorknob. Facing away from the boy, I waltzed into the room, muttering, "see ya."
"Goodbye," he stated back, lifting off his hold of me.
Almost instantly, Ella turned to face me. The buxom girl had glossy, blonde shoulder-length locks. Despite having stormy gray eyes, they were dilating, expressing her youthfulness and energy. Her body was curvaceous and unrealistically thin, especially for her size. The girl was smiling, grinning from cheek to cheek. However, there was an aura surrounding her and this energy made it appear she was portraying another person...like she was a fake.
"Ella Englemann, nice to meet you," Ella greeted, extending a hand.
"Alastair Adair," I responded, shaking her hand.
"I know you," she claimed, shaking my palm with a tight grip, "your sister is roomed with me, you know. She'd be so pretty if she just had a bigger chest...and left that whole sass thing she's got going on."
"No comment."
"Aw, looks like someone taught you well," she giggled, moving cutely...almost just like Esmae.
"Just spit out what you want to say!" she exclaimed.
"I think Esmae's fine the way she is and believe she's pretty enough."
"Underline 'enough'! Besides, you're saying that 'cause you think she's listening," she teased. "You're too afraid to hurt her feelings, huh?"
"She's not in the broadcasting room," I corrected, "she's in Recruit's Hall."
YOU ARE READING
Inhale
AdventureAlastair Adair, sixteen and infected, has lived isolated with only the company of books and his beloved friend, Katherine. He knows he lives in misery, but has never aspired to escape his cage. However, one day, he was set free-at her expense. ...
