chapter 15
the twenty-first of june, 2155
My head spins a thousand times around, a new thought intruding every second.
Where am I?
Who took me?
Why did they take me?
I haven't been able to see anything for hours, or at least what I think has been hours. The trunk of the car was huge, so I tried moving around to remove the bag on my head, but it's tied pretty tightly around my neck. My feet and hands were zip-locked, so any movement was limited.
For the first few seconds after the trunk was closed, I heard what I assume were gunshots being fired at the car. It must've been the security guards that rushed out of the arena. Thankfully, I wasn't hit.
The car ride was fast, jarring, and very loud. My head knocked against the floor of the trunk multiple times, which I now partly blame for my dizziness. Once the car stopped, I was carried outside. The daylight, though muted, allowed me to see through the bag. It was blurred, and I couldn't quite make it out, but I know it wasn't familiar. Considering the time it took to get here, I know I've never been anywhere near this place.
Whoever was carrying me, brought me inside. My head was pounding, so I didn't hear much, but I could make out a few voices. "Is that her?" One of them asked. "Take her downstairs, I'll be there shortly," said another. The zip-locks around my hands and ankles were clipped off once they put me here.
The room is tempered and damp, and I would be cold if it wasn't for Alden's blazer. Every minute or so, a drop of cold water lands on my leg, which is stretched out on the rugged stone floor. I haven't moved it, to have some sense of time.
But when I hear the door open, I immediately retract them, pressing them against my thighs.
"Amelia," a voice speaks, accompanied by careful footsteps towards me. I curl up against the corner of the room, my arms shivering as I wrap them around my legs.
"Hey, hey... there is no need to be afraid," the deep voice continues. It is throaty and hoarse, and in a way it feels familiar, but I'm positive I don't know the person talking. The footsteps stop midway into the room and I, if even possible, move further into the corner.
"I'm sorry about the way you were brought here."
"Who are you," my breath wheezes into the bag, heating up my face. Beads of sweat pour down from my forehead into my eyes, and I wince.
"I'm going to remove the bag now, Amelia. Just... Don't freak out," he cautions, and I hear a couple more footsteps approach me. I unfold my legs and kick in front of me, the palm of my right foot crashing into something stout--a leg.
"Ah!" he cries, and I hear him fall to the ground. It's followed by a strained groan, slowly melting into fast wheezes. Shit--why did I do that? I'm in a dungeon with a bag over my head, and I just kicked whoever is keeping me here and has complete control over me to the floor.
"Alright! I'm sorry, I won't touch you," the man breathes tentatively.
"Here, I'm going to throw you a small blade. Use it to cut through the knot around your neck, alright?" he instructs, and shortly after I feel a weighty object land on my lap. I hesitate for a second, contemplating whether or not I should do anything he says. My cold fingers drag down the skirt of my dress, and I gasp when I feel the sharp, cold blade near my knees. I want this thing off of my head. I find the handle and lift it carefully, surprised by the weight. It's heavier than the knifes I'm accustomed to.
I pull the slim rope as far away from my throat as I can, and I place the blade against it. It doesn't take more than three cuts before it's severed. The bag loosens, and I put the blade on the ground beside me before lifting it off my head.
The only light in the small room comes from a lantern rusted into the wall beside the open door. It gives off a flickering yellow glow, and although it's weak, it hurts my eyes. I blink a couple of times, my sight adapting to the man on the floor in front of me. He clutches his leg tightly, and my focus shifts between his lowered head and the open door. My hand extends to the knife beside me, and I grip the handle, pointing it at the man. Should I go for it?
I gather my legs and stand up, the blade firm in hand.
But I slump right back to the floor when he looks up at me, his eyes still strikingly blue in the dim light.
Xander.
He puts his hands in front of him, receding to the wall beside the door once he sees the blade pointed at him. He puts his hands in front of him, in an effort to calm me down. But my muscles have no strength at this moment.
"Amelia," he says warily, "I will explain everything, just please give me the knife."
He stands again, leaning on his right foot. He limps towards me, holding out a flat palm.
"What is going on? Where am I!" I keep my hold on the knife, raising it again as he nears me. My arm trembles sporadically, and I try to look as threatening as I can from the floor. Xander stares at me for a moment, and his lips curve upward before he sits down opposite me, putting us at the same height.
"Keep the knife," he nods. "I'll answer your questions, but before I do, I want to say something to you."
He inhales deeply, and just like mine, his lips tremble. He opens his mouth to speak, but then he crouches over, shaking his head. When he looks up at me again, his eyebrows are tugged together and the whites of his eyes have reddened.
"I am so sorry for the way I have treated you."
His voice is frail and nothing like I can remember it. It breaks a couple of times within the short sentence, and the corners of his mouth move toward the floor. I stare at him and like an ache, confusion surges in my head. What does he mean?
"I am ashamed of the way I have spoken to you, and..." he pauses and collects himself with a sniffle. I regard him, teary-eyed and guilty, knowing him less by the second. Who is this person?
"There is no excuse for it, but when I was assigned to this job, I had to do everything I could to not get caught. Acting like the rest of them was part of it."
My body tenses.
What job?
Caught by who?
Who is 'the rest of them'?
He's not making any sense, and I wanted answers, not more questions. He catches my puzzled stare, and he shakes his head.
"Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself," he says, laughing nervously. "I'll start by saying that you are at a safe location, and no one here will hurt you. I know how scared you must be considering how you were brought here, but I promise. You can even keep the knife till' you feel safe," he half smiles, eyeing the blade vigilantly. I lower it slowly, feeling less threatened.
"About a year ago, I was assigned a job," he continues. "I was sent to Washington and under a fake identity, I enrolled at your high school. The goal was to get close to you, and claim you at your ceremony," he reveals, his shoulders raising at the word 'claim'.
"After observing you for a few months, I wasn't really worried," he chuckles lightly, his eyes bright.
"You were loud, you slouched in your chair with your legs apart, you disrupted classes to ask questions..." he lists, and my first instinct is to bob my head down in shame, but I don't really feel the need to. Xander's voice isn't harsh or accusatory, and his eyes fill with what almost looks like... admiration.
"Clearly," he says, "I failed when you chose Alden."
He pauses, looking away from me. I remain silent, completely stunned.
"If you had chosen me, I would get you out of the arena and we would enter the car together, just me and you. I would explain everything on the way, and you'd come here knowing everything," he says meekly, fiddling with his fingers. His eyes travel from the floor to my arm, and I see his jaw clench.
"I would definitely not let those people do that to you." He nods once at my wrist. I put my hand over the letters, suddenly feeling embarrassed.
"It's not your fault, you must have had your reasons for choosing him," he says, his face softening.
"The second you said his name, I rushed out of the arena to let the others know what happened. We had to... well, you know what we ended up doing. There was no other way of getting you out today."
A hard lump forms in my throat. I let go of the knife, and it makes a shudder-inducing shriek when it scratches the ground. I stare at Xander's kind eyes, realizing that the entire time I knew him--rather, the entire time I thought I knew him, I... didn't. Every smug glance in the classroom, every brash smile sent my way and every vulgar comment were just part of an act.
It all makes sense. I couldn't understand why he was so persistent ever since he started in my class, and it was because he had to be. He even showed up at my door unannounced, and after he found out that Alden had called on me and that I got a score of ninety-three, he pulled me into the cleaning stall at school and plead for me to pick him. But it was not because he wanted me, it was so he could bring me here. I look around the room, still wondering...
"Who gave you the job?" I ask, and he pulls his head back, smiling at me.
"I could tell you..." he starts, standing up. "But it'd be much easier to show you."
a/n
Hey guys! Are you liking the story so far?
We've reached a very exciting part of the story, and I'm so thrilled! I'd love to hear your theories about what is happening with Amelia, and what is going to happen!
Furthermore, did any of you suspect there was something up with Xander?
Thank you so much for reading, please vote and comment!
- Thea