Julia's point of view:
It's been two weeks since the message to my city, and in that span of time Henley has managed to test and fail me on the powers of imagination, dreams, creativity, and transparency.
Not that I expected to pass any more tests, for how could I under such circumstances?
I've had no word of Peter, so I've been left to assume that he's dead. Gone and moved on from this world.
Perhaps God will take better care of him than I could.
The doctors tell Henley that my health is failing, and if she doesn't give me the time to cope with recent events, the trauma will kill me.
And I believe them; I don't want to die, but it's as if my body has made up its mind. They've had to force-feed me soup since I can't stomach it, and the wounds on my back from being whipped are just beginning to get over being infected. My body trembles with frigidness, but warmth seems foreign here. Terrible nightmares have returned, only this time they're real with all of my worst fears plaguing me in sleep and in waking.
They've kept me hooked up to a saline bag for the last few days because of dehydration, so I get to tote that baggage around the prison compound with me now to add to the humiliation.
Felicity has tried and failed multiple times to help console me, to let me know that I'm not alone and that she understands what I'm going through.
And I know she understands and that she's already experienced this, but I can't comprehend how much Peter's death hurts.
It's the worst kind of pain I could ever feel, and to think someone else could understand my level of hurt makes me want to draw away and keep everything inside. If she understands how much pain this has caused me, then I don't want Felicity's help; I don't want her to bear my burden.
It's not Henley's tests that are causing my health to fail; watching Peter die is the culprit. Truly, I do not want to die, but watching him tortured like that has sent my health spiraling down a path that I can't recover from.
Nobody here can heal me since no one has powers; all the other green-eyed inmates have had their powers taken from them, and Henley's team of doctors work with regular medical instruments that have no supernatural forces at work. Completely ordinary people working for a woman who can destroy the world with power.
Steven has been assigned to take care of me, but he can't do much. He told me that he once had healing powers that were so superb that he could bring people back from the dead, but his abilities have long since been stolen from him. He really does try to get me healthy again, but there's a point when a person experiences enough things that they just give up. There's not much he can do.
"Hey Jules, I think Steven's on his way for your daily check up," Felicity tells me warily, as if walking on eggshells.
I make a noise, a grunt of a sort, to indicate that I heard her before I curl into a little ball in the corner of my cell.
Felicity looks at me from behind her side of the bars, pity in her emerald eyes as flashbacks of her own horrors here replay in them.
"I'm so sorry," she tries to console me. "I didn't think she would've killed him this soon."
But I just shake my head and rock myself back and forth, trying to not think about Peter.
I want to think of nothing, I want to be empty of feeling; I want to be so transparent that no one will ever hurt me again.
I hear the jingling noise of keys against the lock of my cell, and I see Steven opening my door and letting himself in.
He's alone this time without a guard to assist him, but Steven's too mellow to try something so foolish as to escape. He doesn't need to be watched constantly.
Not only is he alone, but he didn't bring any medical supplies with him this time.
He holds out his hand to help me off the ground, and I shakily take it and hoist myself up with great difficulty.
"What are you doing?" I inquire, my voice hoarse and broken as I clutch the rack on wheels that holds my saline solution.
"I'm taking you out into the courtyard for some fresh air; staying stuck up in here isn't making you any better, and Henley approved. Let's go," Steven insists as he leads me out my cell.
Fresh air? Now that's something I never thought I'd experience again.
*************************
In the next few minutes, I find myself outside walking barefoot on fresh grass. I suck in every breath of air as if it's my last, forgetting how good being outside could feel.
I hold onto my saline rack with one hand and Steven's arm with the other, trying to keep myself supported as we walk. The sun is out today, warming me better than any blanket ever could.
Even though we're still enclosed behind barbed wire fences, I can see beyond them into the once lush woods that grew around this place.
Ash is still everywhere from the fire, but more bits of greenery sprout up here and there with new life.
A bird flies overhead, its chirping the most melodic and beautiful sound I think I've heard in weeks.
"You look like you're feeling better," Steven comments.
And it's true, being outside does make me feel better...it just doesn't take away all the pain.
I become plagued with scenarios of how Peter would've loved this sunny day and the privilege to experience life outside of steel walls and prison cells if he had been himself, and I wish so badly it was his arm I could be holding onto right now instead of Steven's.
"Feeling much better, thank you," I decide to tell him.
"You're lying," he comments, his previous comment merely bait to get me to explain my health status.
I take another breath and sigh, wishing he could just not speak and let me enjoy being outside.
"Not completely...I'm being half-truthful. I really did miss this," I tell him, gesturing to the sky.
His green eyes look skeptically down at me, the color alive and vivid; seeing so many people with green eyes around me has been a huge adjustment after being the only one I knew in my lifetime.
I wonder what makes us so different.
"You're still in pain," He tells me.
"I'm always in pain," I say somewhat sarcastically as my legs begin to wobble from walking.
Steven leads me over to a nearby bench that's bolted to the ground, slowly easing me down so that I can sit and catch my breath for a moment.
"Peter didn't deserve what happened to him," Steven blurts out, finally breaking the ice.
"Please don't start..." I trail off, wanting to avoid the subject.
If I talk about Peter, I'm going to break what small bit of myself that I'm holding together. And if I break, then that'll be the end. No more picking up my pieces.
"He loved you; I've heard Henley discuss with the other doctors the way he was before she changed him, and I've never seen someone struggle against her control like that before. I don't doubt for one second that the real him wasn't still there, trying to get back to you," he continues.
"Please stop," I beg him, my eyes beginning to sting and water. "You're going to break my heart."
"Julia, if there's one thing I've learned from my experiences in this prison, it's that there is nothing on this earth stronger than a human's heart. It is constantly battered, bruised, and hurt by outside forces, but it always finds a way to repair itself. Your heart will never be broken; it's stronger than you give it credit," Steven encourages me.
"Then why do I feel like an empty void?" I inquire, a single tear escaping the prison of my eye and making its getaway down my cheek.
"Because you're letting yourself feel that way. It's time for you to be strong, Julia; you're everyone in this prison's last hope for beating Henley as we've all had our chance and failed. Your friends and family from home might still be alive. These woods will grow back after the damage that has happened to them, and you will too. When it happens is up to you," he pushes me, and I fiddle around with the IV in my arm as a lump forms in my throat.
"I don't know how to be strong," I admit shamefully.
Steven takes a breath of defeat and stands, offering his hand to help me up. "I was going to wait to show you this until it because necessary, but I suppose now is as good a time as any. Come with me, and take a good last look at the outdoors. I don't know when Henley will let you see them again."
Confused, I take his hand and rise up off the bench. "What are you going to show me?"
"Hope," he says simply.
We begin our walk back towards the prison compound, the angry dark building looking so out of place on such a beautiful day.
I become fascinated with the idea of the guards having a change of heart, opening the iron gates to this terrible place and allowing all of the prisoners to walk freely out.
Oh, how I would run from this place. I would run with the warm sun on my face and my black hair flying like a raven as I go. I would kick ash up and let tree branches snag at my clothes as I went if it meant freedom. I would struggle to catch my breath from the exertion, but it would not be from the terrifying hallucinations of Henley's tests. I would run all the way back to my broken city and not stop until I got there. I would find my friends and my family, and I would rebuild. All it would take is some willpower and someone to open the gates.
But while my heart lives outside this prison, my body is still here and will be for however long Henley decides to keep me around.
The shadow of the prison compound engulfs me in darkness as we go back inside, and I turn my head before I step in to look at the sky one last time.
The sky is blue, quite possibly the most beautiful color in the spectrum. Blue is safe, calm, inviting...good.
This prison is black steel, however, and as soon as the door shuts and Steven and I are back inside, all the warmth and safety that the blue sky offered is tarnished and stolen from me.
"Follow me," Steven says.
********************************
After taking twists and turns down long hallways and through passages that I've never set foot in, Steven has led me to a door with a guard standing watch at.
Struggling to catch my breath, I take note that this guard has green eyes as well, the first on a guard that I've seen.
"Hey Sam, we need to get in there," Steven says to the guard, gesturing to the door.
"Are you sure? I didn't think you wanted anyone back there," the guard named Sam trails off, and I become baffled that a prison guard is actually talking to Steven as if he's an equal.
Steven just nods his head in response.
"Be my guest, but you know Henley will have my head if she finds out. I'll give you five minutes, then she has to go," Sam says, referencing me and opening the door to let us in.
"We'll be quick," Steven says as we enter this unknown part of the prison, Sam shutting the door back on his side.
We stand in a hallways, another door at the very end that is left slightly open making me curious. I walk towards it, dragging my saline rack with me as Steven follows.
"That's might've been the most respect I think I've ever seen on a prison guard before," I mention.
"Oh Sam? Yeah, he's a good guy. Used to be a prisoner here, hence the green eyes, but he never gave anyone much trouble, so they bumped him up to a guard," he explains.
"Ah. So...are you gonna tell me what you're about to show me or what this place even is?" I ask Steven.
He takes a breath before he answers, almost as if he's being careful to only tell me as little information as possible.
"This door leads to my workplace of sorts when I'm not in my prison cell. Any of the prisoners that get sick or especially hurt are sent to me to be worked on, and I've had my hands a little full this past week," Steven says as we get to the cracked door.
"And why is that?" I ask as he eases the door the rest of the way open.
"See for yourself," he answers, gesturing inside.
I look at the space and immediately notice that there's a hospital bed with a person in it, surrounded by tables overflowing with medical supplies.
The person is hooked up a breathing machine and a heart monitor beats slowly but surely with their pulse. The person is wrapped with bandages all over their torso, and they have evidence of beating left on exposed skin.
And then I notice the brown floppy hair.
A small scream of realization escapes my body, and I yank out the IV that keeps me tied to my saline rack.
I'm running, running with tears flowing down my face and I fling myself next to Peter's bedside, my hands shaking as I grasp his face and tilt it towards me. He's unconscious, but it's him and he's alive.
He's alive, Peter's alive, my Peter is alive. He's still here, he's still with me, he didn't leave me; he's alive and I'm alive and we're both alive.
I start to weep, happier than I could ever remember. I'm running my fingers through his hair and across his face and holding his hands and trembling all the same.
"How can this be?" I ask Steven, sure that I had lost this boy forever.
"He was nearly dead after what happened, and Henley was going to let him die. Then one of the guards convinced her that Peter could still be useful to them to use against you, so she sent him to me. I've been working on him for the past week; I managed to remove the bullets from his body and give him blood transfusions, so he's making progress. Should begin to wake up any day now," Steven explains.
I'm smiling insanely and the tears keep coming, but I've never been happier to look so foolish.
I lay my head against his chest, wanting to hear his real heartbeat that I've heard so many times before in the waking hours of nightmarish nights instead of on a heart monitor.
And it's there, faint and slow but persistent as well. He hasn't given up, and now I know I can't either.
His face is pale but his cheeks are the slightest shade of pink, almost like the slight bit of life within them.
"You're alive," I whisper happily to him, allowing the words to be said instead of just thought. "I love you so much."
He can't hear me; he might as well be a million miles away. But wherever he is, I hope it's beautiful, and I hope he's himself.
I'm in one place that is light and close, and he's in another that is dark and far, but we're also both here and I am holding his hands and he is breathing, and that's enough.
"Feeling stronger now?" Steven teases me, laughing at my ridiculous display of blunt affection towards Peter right front of him.
"I ripped my IV out of my arm and I ran on my own," I laugh, not looking away from Peter.
"I can see that; now you weren't supposed to know about this since Henley had wanted you to keep thinking he was dead so you'd keep failing tests, but I knew this was the only way. If you could still act despondent around her so I don't get in trouble, I'd really appreciate it," Steven says.
"Whatever you want," I say mindlessly, letting my head rest on Peter's chest and wrapping my arms gently around his torso.
"Hey, don't get too comfortable. Five minutes are up, and I need to take you back to your cell," Steven chides, nudging me up off of Peter.
"What? Now?" I protest, still holding his hands.
"We're going to get in huge trouble if we don't go, Julia. Henley can still pull the plug on Peter's life whenever she wants, and I can't do anything stop her," he reminds me.
I look down at Peter as he holds on to his life with his bandaged body and his bruised face. His hands are warm now from me holding on to them, but they'll be cold again when I'm gone.
Steven's right though, and I have no place to protest if it means keeping Peter safe.
I smooth one of my hands through his hair and kiss his forehead, getting up from his bedside and walking with Steven out of the room and back to my cell.
"Here," Steven says, handing me a band aid to put over the spot where I ripped out my IV. "I don't think you'll be needing that saline anymore."
I smile as I put it on, my heart swelling with love for Peter and the friendship and kindness that Steven has shown me.
I will not die now; the trauma is but a memory. Peter will be okay, and I will too. I'm walking by myself and I have hope.
"Thank you," I blurt out in the middle one of the corridors as I hug Steven. "You kept him alive."
He laughs, reaching down to pat my head with one hand. "No problem kid. Now, you listen to me; Peter is going to be alright, and I expect you to be as well. No more of this refusing to eat or drink or letting yourself get sick, understand? You have to beat Henley now," Steven urges me.
I nod my head, understanding the situation and its heaviness.
This plan that Henley has, this terrible plan to wipe the minds of my citizens and have their powers consume them from my failed power cells, involves more than just her; it involves me and Peter and Will and the rest of my city.
I won't pass my next test; maybe not even the one after. But I will pass one, and that'll be the end. It'll all be over.
I can beat her.