Counterfeit

-thirtysix--

--thirtysix- 

I DIDN'T KNOW what it would feel like when it killed me. If I would even get a moment to comprehend what he felt like under my fingertips before the breakage of the rule took my life. I didn't know that, but I knew, somehow, that it would be worth it.

And it was. 

There was a space, when I touched him, where time didn't exist. However long it lasted, it felt like we were the only two people in the world, and waking from that wonder left a bittersweet stain in my mind; I knew I would feel it every day of my life. 

My eyes opened; he was still there, and I was, too. We were alive. 

No, I reminded myself. We weren't. 

My hand - I had lifted it slightly from him in hesitation, but I needed to feel him again, even if death would give us an eternity just to do that. I placed it back where it had been, resting gently over the bruising. He didn't even flinch.

No. He leaned in, instead, as if he was the one who had been absent of human contact for the past 9 months. But he hadn't, the pain he hid in his eyes when my fingers etched down his face reminded me of that.

"I don't want to let go." My voice was a murmur.

"Then don't." His, a whisper. 

But I had to simply because I didn't want the first time we touched to have a linger of pain attached to it. The first time - it implied there would be more.. 

I didn't understand where it came from, but I found the strength to withdraw from him - after only a matter of seconds which I had been waiting months for. It surprised me, but not Charleston. 

"I'm sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry for?" 

"I got you hurt."

"Pip..." He almost seemed disappointed in me for a moment, hurt. "Pip, don't ever be sorry." 

"But I am. I-" 

He reached out to me this time, cutting off my speech as his hand found my wrist. Instantly, he managed to calm me down - it was as though he had some kind of spell over me. 

"Don't be sorry." Charleston repeated. "You didn't do this." 

"But it was because of me." 

He shook his head. "It was because the choices I made. And the ones I still choose to keep." 

I sighed. By now, I knew Charleston enough to know that he wouldn't give in, and that if I continued, our disagreeing would turn relentless. I let him have it, but knew deep inside that his injuries should have been mine. 

I changed our conversation, hoping to find some answers in him like I always did. "Charleston, are we dead?" 

He laughed - genuinely laughed for a moment as if it was the funniest thing he had heard all day. Then, upon seeing that I was oblivious to his humor, he calmed himself down a little, an uncover-able smile left on his features. 

"What did you say?"

Slightly embarrassed, I repeated myself. "Are we dead?" 

He bit his lip and shook his head, eyes focused on the ground as he tried to distract himself from laughing again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized, but  I didn't mind. It was actually quite nice to see him so happy. 

"Are you asking that because of the rule? Because we broke it?" 

I nodded. 

"Pip..." I looked down to where he was looking. He took my hand into his - it already becoming my new favourite thing. His larger hand engulfed mine whenever he held it - which had only happened twice so far . His fingers locked into mine, and like it was a key, Charleston explained it to me. 

"We're not dead." 

It didn't mean as much to me as I thought it would have. Perhaps my heart already knew it, and my brain was just waiting to catch up to the news. Or perhaps it was because I had been so ready to die for this moment that neither life or death scared me anymore... Well life, actually, still seemed quite terrifying. 

"We're not?"

"No. We're alive, Pip. You're still alive." 

"How? I mean, the one thing they tell us that matters most when we get here,  is that human contact kills us? This shouldn't be possible." 

"Do you remember what I said?" He asked me. "About not trusting everything you hear?" 

I nodded. How much exactly was I supposed to believe them? So far, it was seeming that everything that was important, was a lie. 

Then I realized. "My sensory tracker..." I had mumbled it under my breath - to myself, but Charleston had still heard me. 

"We've taken care of that." 

"We?"

"Thelonious and I." Of course my dad knew about this. I should have figured it out myself. 

"But how, though? Surely the other custodians will notice if my tracker is turned off." 

"We've looped it up. We've analyzed your average sensory intake, and managed to produce a copy of it by collecting your data. To them, it'll just seem like any other day. They won't be able to tell." 

I still needed to hear one more thing, despite everything else that he was telling me. "But Charleston, how am I still alive?"

"Because," he breathed deeply, "the rule doesn't apply to you. It doesn't apply to one third of the people in The Dormir." 

"It... It's not real? It won't kill me?" 

He shook his head. "Not you. But other people: yes." 

Despite the rule not being true, in a sense, Charleston was willing to sacrifice his life for me when he touched me. I was willing to sacrifice my life for him. 

And when I realized this, when he put his hand on mine again... 

I remembered him. 

-thirtysix--

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I really hope you're liking this story - it's really about to get in to everything, and I hope you are as excited to read it as I am to write it!

Why do you think the rule doesn't apply to Pip, but it does to the majority?

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God bless.

-

Ask Me and I will tell you remarkable secrets you do not know about things to come.

Jeremiah 33:3