A Wild Rose

23 - Escaping reality

"Well we weren't going to take that risk, were we?!"

"Both of you ..." My voice trailed off weakly. Both of them ignored me.

It was as if I was powerless here. Just a viewer. This argument had gone from being between me and George, to George and Amie. It was not what I wanted. But  didn't see what I could do. The tears were like an oncoming storm, and terrible pains were reaching the entirety of my body as I watched, speechless and helpless.

"Look at her! She's going to have a baby in a few weeks, and all you can do is shout at her! I don't know what sort of father you're going to make!"

"You wouldn't know anything about it!" George roared.

That was all Amie could take. She had a short temper, like me. But she was far more ferocious. She punched George right around the face, and I heard the click of his jaw, and it reminded me of him on his knees before Alexander. My gasping became faster at the thought, making me feel more crazed by the second. When George's eyes locked back onto Amie's, there was no hope of agreement left. All there was was a ferocity to match hers. He made a move. And she counter-acted his.

Just as he swung his arm forwards, she caught it, twisted it, and made him gasp in pain as he stumbled back. That was enough to make sure he didn't retaliate. He was not badly hurt, it was just a warning. But it was bringing back so many awful memories, still so vivid, still so violent. I couldn't take it.

"Stop!" It was only a little stronger than my previous attempts to stop the fighting, but this time I stood up, holding my hands out, and walking into the space that divided the two of them. My cheeks were tear stained, my eyes lost in the mist of misfortune that so easily enveloped me. It was enough to make them stop, though. They froze, waiting for me to continue. I found it hard, but I did. "Listen to yourselves. Please, stop fighting. You don't deserve the treatment you're giving one another. If anything, I do."

"Well done for realising it." George murmured.

"You leave her alone!" Amie yelled.

"No!" George and I said it simultaneously. It was George who carried on.

"Your parents are so lucky they got rid of you." The atmosphere changed. It disappeared. Suddenly it was only me and George once more, the words he had just spoken echoing around my ears. My mouth was half open, unsure if I had heard correctly. If I had, I feared that I would not want to hear the rest of it. He was going to say anyway. "Of course, you don't know, do you? They don't tell you at the Institute." he said patronisingly. Then his face hardened, and his voice matched. He spoke slowly, as if I was stupid. "They gave you up. Wealthy family, of course - they wouldn't accept you any other way. Your parents didn't want you, so they gave you to the Institute. It's what happened to all the girls there. You were one of many abandoned children. Your parents, and all those other girls' parents would have been watching you play out the Games, and not even know if you were theirs or not."

My eyes had been locked onto George's since he said that first sentence, and I could not take them away. He was expecting, waiting to see a reaction, his eyes wide with anticipation. For a while, he got nothing. Just me standing there, breathing. How could I do anything else?

My parents hadn't wanted me. They didn't die in some strange accident, I wasn't taken from them. They didn't want me. Of all the possible reasons I had believed as a child of how I had ended up at the Institute, that had never been one of them. Now my whole body, my whole being, was exploding with the idea of it. I was unwanted by the people I could have called dearest to me. And it shattered me like a stone does a window.

It wasn't the fact that they were my parents. I had grown up never truly caring about them. It wasn't the fact that they had given me up. I could soon find myself recovered from that. It was the fact that George seemed to be suggesting he wished he could do the same. Suggesting that I was unwanted by him. It tore me to pieces like a shredder does to paper.

I fell to my knees, not even sobbing. I was just staring, my mouth open and quivering. I could not see them, but I knew both George's and Amie's eyes would be on me. However, with very different expressions cast over their faces.

Someone was walking over. Amie. She tried to put a hand on my shoulder. I jerked away, suddenly back into the reality of which I had so pleadingly been hoping I could escape. But that was only in dreams. I stood up, making Amie step backwards so as not to get caught in my quick movements. before I knew it, I was running out of the room, through the small corridor, and out of the flat.

Both Amie and George were calling after me, but I ignored them both. I just ran down the several flights of stairs, only moving faster when I stumbled, and out onto the street. The cold winter air whipped my face, the snow soaking through the ballet pumps of which I had so quickly slid on. But I didn't care. All I cared about now was running.

I turned the first corner I could, where they would no longer be able to see me. I ran and ran along any deserted street I could find, and kept going, not knowing where I was going. It wasn't long before the distant cries of my name faded completely. Nevertheless, I was finding it harder and harder to run, the weight of the baby slowing me down incredibly, pain still surging through me like a tornado. I knew I had to go somewhere, so I set my destination.

I couldn't stay there for too long - I knew they would find me if I did. I could only stay there for a little bit whilst I sorted myself out. I knew the way, that wasn't difficult. It would be having to explain myself that would be the hardest part. I didn't care about that now, though. All I cared about was getting away from Amie and George. Away from the gunfire and the battle. It was my fault it started. So I was ending it by leaving it. I hoped.

The cold was suddenly hitting me, though heat from my own body radiated out, making me feel overheated and freezing at the same time, one after the other in constant blasts. I was dizzy. I didn't think I could stand for much longer. The pain was getting worse and worse. But I was almost there. So close.

"Rose!"

There she was, just leaving her flat. I stumbled up to her in the mess I was. "Jasmin, please, help me." I begged, my voice a mere croak.

"Oh my God, ok, ok." She was panicking. Her eyebrows creased, he mouth came open, her hands flapped in the air. For a moment, I thought she might faint, and then I didn't know what I would do. But she didn't, and she knew I was suffering, so she helped me inside. All the time I was crying out in pain even more. I wanted to shut myself up, to tell her that she shouldn't be helping me, that I deserved what I was getting. But I couldn't. Because it was no longer just my health at stake now. I knew that.

Jasmin laid me down in the guest bedroom, looking panicked. "Do Amie and Laurie know you're here?" she asked. I shook my head. She stood bolt upright, suddenly looking alert. "Right, you stay here, I'm going to call them -"

"No!" She stopped, turning around to look at me with slight confusion on her face. "Please, don't call them! They're ... they've already worried too much. Please, just leave it be for a while." I managed to gasp. I couldn't tell whether she believed me or not, but she knew there was a serious reason why I didn't want them to know, so let the phone lie where it was.

It wasn't long before it rang, however. I gave her a pleading look, and she told them I wasn't here. That was when the pain went to its new heights. I was near the point of screaming. I knew what was happening. Jasmin knew what was happening. I told her she didn't have to do anything. She could leave the room and wait for it to be over. She still stayed, promising she would help. And she did.

It had started, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.