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The Revolution
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The Revolution
Chapter 2: Brain Dead Moron
Yesterday's events seem like a surreal dream until my eyes snap open and I realise where I am; my old room and it looks exactly the same as how I left it. The canopy bed is still sitting across from the large window in between two white wooden bedside tables; the blue cover matching the sheets. The theme colour for the room and basically everything in it is a white and blue pairing. I remember wishing I could paint all the furniture a different colour.
White gets dirty too easily.
The two tall blue lamps are sitting by their lonesome on the bedside tables; the white painted bookshelf still neatly organised. I'm guessing if I take a look in the wardrobe; it will be filled with the clothes I left behind. Even the various perfumes and pieces of jewellery are still sitting on the vanity exactly where I left them.
It feels like a completely different life.
Being the idiot I am I thought Bass and Miles were restoring order in the world; I thought I was a part of something good. I thought I was safe in our home, and I thought that I knew who Bass was; a good person fighting his inner demons like everybody else. I thought he was winning. I had no idea that murder had become the norm for Bass, and Miles. I let them keep me in the dark about everything, and I ignored what I knew was happening because I loved them.
Ignorance really is bliss.
Knock, knock . . . Knock. I hear rapping on the door before the lock clicks and the door opens.
It's Bass holding a wooden tray with food. I wonder if there's a syringe hidden on the tray or maybe tucked away in his pocket, or maybe the food is laced with drugs. That's the only way he is going to keep me here.
Asshole!
"You really haven't aged a day," he closes the door and I hear the click as a guard outside locks us in.
I'm really starting to hate that clicking sound.
"And you've aged a lot," I snap and shift to the other side of the bed as Bass sits on the edge of the mattress and places the tray between us. There's toast, eggs and coffee and my stomach growls instantly.
It smells great.
"I brought your favourites."
"What the hell are you doing?" I somehow manage to resist the food even though I'm starving and I'm 90% sure my stomach is eating itself.
"You should eat," Bass ignores my question and the irritation doubles inside my chest. I'm 31 years old for God's sake; far too old to be locked in my room.
"First you drug me and now you're concerned for my health?!" The outrage is clear in my voice and I'm sure on my face.
"I'm doing this to protect you."
"Protect me?" I scoff.
"You're safe here with me."
"And you're delusional. Miles really screwed you up when he left didn't he?"
There's a slight pause, "You're going to pretend that you didn't know he was leaving?" Bass asks, clearly unconvinced and sure that I'm against him and plotting with Miles.
"Miles never told me anything."
It's Bass's turn to scoff and of course he shakes his head, which is when I take a deep breath trying to calm myself.
It's my turn to ask the questions; I need to know.
"You said my family is with the rebels," I start.
Ben called me the night the power went out and told me that Miles was coming for me- warned me the power was going to turn off, and then the line went dead and that was the last time I heard Ben's voice. I was at a boarding school in Indianapolis and had been there for two years. I used to visit Ben during holidays and stay with them during summer break.
Ben was a full time Algebra teacher and a part time scientist and Miles was the soldier, and apparently Ben knew something about the blackout although we never found out what. Miles tried to find Ben, Rachel, Charlie and Danny but he never did. I held out hope for years that we'd all be a family again.
"I did," Bass nods.
"And Miles is with them?" I ask hopeful.
"He is."
"And you know for sure that they're alive?"
"As I said they're with the rebels trying to kill me," Bass's look turns venomous and his demeanour changes completely from friendly to foe but I mean who isn't trying to kill him? Bass has A LOT of enemies.
"Do you blame them?" I watch as something flickers in his blue eyes.
"Do you want me dead too?" I see what looks like emotion surface on his face but I don't know if it's real or an act.
What I want is to get out of here and join my family. In a perfect world I'd have Bass as well but that isn't going to happen. Is it crazy that part of me still loves Bass after everything he's done? That part of me thinks about how different life would be if I'd stayed with Bass and Miles too. They would have changed how they handled everything- for the better and found Ben and the rest of my family. Bass wouldn't have gone dark side and I'd have all my family together in the one spot, and we'd be making a positive difference. Creating a place where everyone would live in peace free from fear, where we'd work together and share all our resources; a place that kept everyone safe.
"If I wanted you dead than you would be dead," I reply.
I may not have my weapons anymore, but there's plenty around me that I can use including the hot coffee, fork and the food tray. Bass is so cocky I bet he thinks there's no way I'd be able to get the drop on him.
I probably wouldn't make it out alive but that's beside the point. I'd die trying and take as many of them with me as possible.
"Is that right?"
"You helped train me remember?"
"And you're trying to sweet talk me; it's not going to work," Bass lies. He's already changed back to being friendly. He can't seem to make up his mind.
Sweet talk? . . . Oh please. I just know how to get certain reactions, well at least I did.
"You know you can't keep me locked up forever Bass. Just let--"
"I can do whatever the hell I want," the humanity leaves him completely, and it's the cold and soulless Bass staring back at me.
I shake my head, "Are you really that far gone? Let me guess you're going to use me to get Miles?"
"I already told you. I'm not going to hurt you . . . as long as you don't make me."
Is that meant to be comforting?
"You expect me to believe that? You're keeping me locked up Bass. You've lost your mind!" I snap.
Is there nothing left of the Bass I knew?
"You're the one that didn't come back," Bass hisses.
"You expected me to come back to this? To turn a blind eye, and pretend I don't know what you get up to? Besides it's not like you came looking for me," I shake my head and my dark hair moves along with the movement.
Unbelievable!
The humanity flashes over his face again before he stands to his feet, "Eat," he orders once more before he leaves the room.
Well that was fun.
Now I need an escape plan. I could use Bass to get out of here; take him hostage. That could work although I need to get my hands on a weapon and I know Bass isn't stupid enough to enter this room with one.
He knows what I can do, and my strength.
I wonder . . . I slide off the bed and stand to my feet heading for an old thick copy of the dictionary; my secret hollow book.
"Please, please, please," I silently beg before I grab the book from the top shelf and open it although all hope vanishes when I see the book is empty. The small knife is gone and I feel the heat move to my cheeks as I throw the book across the room; there's a loud thud when it connects with the wall and I have to take another deep breath to calm myself.
I'll figure something out.
I always do.
It feels like I've only been sleeping for a few hours when I feel the bed dip and my eyes blink open. After rubbing the sleep out of eyes, my vision clears and I can just make out the body sitting on the edge of my bed thanks to the moonlight creeping through the sheer curtain. It has to be Bass; he wouldn't let a stranger just sit on my bed.
Would he?
Who knows because I sure as hell don't know the stranger occupying Bass's body, and I don't think I want to.
"Bass?" I ask.
It almost sounds like sniffling.
I must be dreaming.
He doesn't answer and I feel the panic start to rise to the surface. Is this where he suffocates me with a pillow?
By the time I sit up in bed Bass still hasn't moved an inch or uttered a single word, "Bass?" I reach out and grab his shoulder but he still doesn't move.
What the fuck is happening?
I'm not awake enough for this shit.
"I shouldn't be here," Bass finally replies.
"Actually it's me that shouldn't be here remember? Now tell me what's going on?" I ask and make sure to stay on high alert.
This could be my chance to get out of here. The key should be in his pocket. I can't miss out on the opportunity.
I have to get out of here; Bass is clearly not in a sound state of mind.
"I . . . I have a son."
Huh?
"You have a what?"
"A son and he is out there, but I don't know where and the only person that knew is dead; Emma was shot by a rebel," Bass sounds completely gutted and I can't help but feel utterly confused. Did he develop dissociative identity disorder while I was away?
Is that what's going on?
Wait Emma; why does that sound familiar? . . . Of course Emma was dating Miles before he shipped off to join the army with Bass when they were 18 years old. I'm assuming that means Bass was just in our home town, and Emma totally cheated on my brother- what a hag.
What the hell am I meant to do?
This can't be real. I'm dreaming.
"Bass?" I tug on his shoulder and he reluctantly shifts and faces me. It's the most human I've seen him since he knocked me out yesterday.
He's trying to fight back the tears from falling down his face. It's the old Bass I fell in love with.
He's still in there.
"I have a son," Bass repeats and I lose my common sense as well as control of my body, and my arms wrap around Bass's shoulders. The sobs grow louder and I feel his body shaking in my arms.
What the hell is wrong with me?
It doesn't look like I'm going anywhere tonight.
"I'm sorry," I reply as Bass's body becomes heavy and I lower us onto the mattress; keeping my arms wrapped around him.
Even before I left, Bass was the type of guy to never wear his heart on his sleeve but rather locked in an impenetrable vault. Maybe Bass isn't completely gone, but lost and buried deep under the surface; deeper than ever before.
Or I'm just clinging to what we had and the person he used to be. Either way I'm a fucking brain dead moron. This is my shot; my chance to get out of here, yet I'm comforting the guy that knocked me out and is keeping me locked up in my old room.
Yep, I'm a fucking brain dead moron.
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