This chapter is dedicated to my editor Arctic_Hedwig. Thank you so much!
Celeste rolled over restless. The house was quiet as always, but it was too quiet. An eerie stillness settled over her as she remembered. He's gone. He was there and then not. It made no sense. Celeste had said that for over a year now. Life doesn't make sense, it isn't fair, and people make it too complicated. She finally drifted off repeating these words silently.
...
Celeste dreamed "The Dream" again that night. She was alone, but she wanted light to stop the endless darkness. It came almost instantly. She looked around curiously, only to find the same three people lying there on musty, grey cots surrounded by hooded figures. She wanted to move, to take a closer look, but she was frozen in place. As if her hearing were enhanced she heard every word they said.
"How did this one find out?" said the one to the far right in the same feminine voice.
"The fat mouth blabbed," snipped someone with a gruff voice. At this point Celeste Caimbridge couldn't make out who had said that.
"Shut it, you imbecile." he said calmly. "This one found out because he saw it happen. Stop making assumptions and listen to the story for once," said the tall hooded figure, who she assumed was the leader. Everytime he told them to do something, they did it with no complaints, except for the gruff man, who seemed to listen to only himself.
"I don't get it," piped a squeaky voice.
"You don't get anything," muttered the gruff man.
The leader looked at him with what Celeste assumed was a death glare. The man immediately quieted, but tensed as if waiting for something. She didn't have to wait long to find out.
Celeste blinked as the man screamed with agony. She looked at him, but couldn't figure out what was happening. She hated watching people suffer. She lurched forward, but she didn't budge.
She watched as the leader's cloak slipped from his head, revealing a young male, no older than 17. He had raven brown hair and pale skin. His eyes were a stunning grey, serene and warm, yet cold and grieving. After examining them a second longer, Celeste looked at the ground, wishing for the shrieks to end.
Finally, the agonizing screams stopped. The gruff man withered on the floor in pain. He whimpered and the others just laughed at him.
"Get up," the leader said as if he shouldn't have to say it in the first place. "I am giving you one more chance, Vector. I have given you too many chances already. I am only keeping you for one reason. Once you can no longer do that there will be no need for you, if you can't keep your attitude under control. Do you understand?" he said calmly.
"Yes," muttered a barely audible Vector.
"What?" the man said.
"Hmm?" Vector asked, looking confused. Celeste couldn't figure out why, but she felt bad for him. Maybe because every time she looked at their leader she felt a sudden surge of hatred, but that word didn't quite fit.
"What did you say," the man said with no note of question in his voice.
"Yes," Vector said not much louder than the first time around.
The leader raised an eyebrow in a mocking way as the other figures around him snickered happily at someone else's pain.
"Yes," Vector shouted, his voice cracking.
The man smirked. "Okay, let me explain now," the leader said looking over at the person, the one with the squeaky voice.
"These people all found out in different ways," he motioned to the cots before he continued, "This one saw." He shot a glance at Vector. "These two happened to be told."
"Why did she tell them?" shot back a new voice. By the sound of the voice, Celeste assumed they were about her age.
He sighed, but finally replied. "We don't know exactly why." Vector smirked at this. "But we have many hypotheses. This one," He motioned to the one that was by far the tallest, "We assumed that Subject 202 told her. When we interrogated her, we found that she had asked Subject 202 what was wrong and Subject broke."
"That is a shame. I hate having to do this to our kind," sighed the youthful tone.
"Yes, but this was for a good cause. If it is really true, that Subject 202, is the "One", then this will have been worth it."
The leader smiled as his words raised a round of cheering and hooting, but the smile faded as a door slammed in the distance. He spun around startled, hands in front of him, but he lowered them calming down and his smirk reappeared. This time bigger than ever.
A voice that Celeste recognized, but couldn't quite place said, "Hello again, boy."
His smile grew, until he looked absolutely radiant. With that mammoth smile on his face he replied, "Welcome back my friend."
...
Celeste awoke drenched in sweat. She breathed heavily as she recounted her dream. She had never gotten this far before. Celeste expected it to end after the man... What was his name? Oh, Vector said, "You don't get anything." Before tonight, Celeste had always wanted to see more, but now she wished she could unsee it, for the nagging sensation was worse than ever.
What did that man do to Vector? Is he ok? Who was that woman? Why did her voice seem familiar? What conditions were those people in? Who is Subject 202? Why do I have this dream? Celeste pondered.
Even with these questions bombarding her thoughts, two were bugging her the most. Who were those three people? What are those people planning?
Celeste continued to think her dream over as sunlight shyly peeked through her window. She blinked realizing how exhausted she was. Sighing at her own stupidity she slipped out from under her cover. She went to go examine herself in the mirror resenting herself for staying up. It wasn't that she didn't mind staying up, it was her parents were just recovering from Caleb's disappearance and she didn't want to bring them extra strife. When she reached the mirror she jumped. She looked worse than she expected.
Her usual alert brown eyes were sunken with black circles enclosing them. Also, Celeste's soft, shoulder length cinnamon hair clung to her forehead and could have been mistaken for a bird's nest. Her soft lips were parched and even her freckles that lay across her upper cheeks and lower nose seemed to sag with an unseen weight.
Celeste sighed miserably not knowing how to fix herself up. Nevaeh would have known what to do. She was obsessed with looks and boys, though and everyone she met seemed to enjoy her company. It surprised Celeste that they were even friends; they were complete opposites. Celeste was shy and spent most of her time at a library or a quiet place outside, while Nevaeh would want to be at a party, though she was never allowed, or at the mall. She longed to see her friend again. It had been three years, three years since she had run away with a boy. She shook the thought from her head knowing that it would only make her look worse.
A small smile played across her lips. She was positive that Neva would have said, "When life makes you look ugly, use artificial magic, also known as makeup! She tiptoed into her bathroom and opened her draws cautiously.
"Crap," she muttered when she remembered that she only owned lip gloss and mascara. Celeste knew what she had to do, but she felt horrible nonetheless. She snuck out of her bathroom, grabbing a bobby pin in the process, and tiptoed to her mom's private bathroom. She spread out her bobby pin and picked the lock. When Celeste heard the click she peeked inside and to her relief, no one was there. She stepped inside and glanced around.
Celeste's mother's bathroom couldn't really be considered a bathroom. Her parents had removed the toilet and expanded the shower. Besides the shower, the room was completely dedicated to makeup. The walls were a light blue-grey with little white flowers embroidered on it. Celeste loved the walls, yet you could barely distinguish them due to the shelves that lined the walls, covered with the proof of her mom's everlasting desire to buy nail polish and other products. But this was not all. Her mom had installed dozens of cabinets to contain all of her makeup and such. Celeste couldn't remember half of what was stored in there.
"Okay what do I do?" she whispered to herself. Celeste rummaged through the drawers occasionally pulling things out before placing them back. She continued this process until she realized it was useless. Celeste stopped and decided to slip into a cold shower to wash away her thoughts.
Ten minutes later she reluctantly got out of the shower, slipped into light blue overalls and a black shirt, brushed her hair, and trudged down the flight of stairs towards the kitchen.
Before she entered, she smelled bacon. Celeste knew that something wasn't right. Bacon was her favorite food, but it was expensive, so they only had it on special occasions or when there was bad news. She sighed bracing herself, but not forgetting to plaster a fake smile on her face as she walked in.
"Morning dear!" her mother said in a sing-song way.
"Morning," Celeste replied still with a fake smile.
"So," her mom tried.
Celeste looked up at her, her smile fading against her will.
Mrs. Caimbridge looked as if she was going to say something before changing her mind and finished, "Who wants bacon!?"
Celeste didn't respond, her heart beating awaiting the news, but hid her anxious expression behind her infamous fake grin. As Celeste inched towards her seat at the table she closely examined her mother.
As always she was extravagant. There wasn't a stray cinnamon hair on her head and the long waves bounced effortlessly around her shoulders. She had green eyes, and they were made up of different shades, giving them a ombre effect. She had soft pink lips and an airy lightness that always seemed to encircle her. Celeste's mom was a cosmetologist, a makeup artist and a hair stylist. Mrs. Caimbridge applied her custom-made products on herself even though she looked absolutely breathtaking without them.
She snuck a peek at her father who was munching on a burnt piece of toast while reading the paper. He had tan skin that matched his jet black hair that was slowly changing to gray. Her father had the same brown eyes as Celeste and little wrinkles formed next to them when he laughed or smiled. He usually wore a thin mustache under his crooked nose, where his glasses perched, but her mother couldn't stand it. Celeste's dad was a psychiatrist and there were always dark circles around his eyes indicating how hard he worked.
Celeste snapped back to reality as her mom practically dumped bacon on her plate, with a small side of eggs and a piece of toast. She wasn't hungry, but she wanted to enjoy the special meal before she lost her appetite completely. Halfway through her heap her mother got up the courage to speak.
"Celeste," she looked up at the sound of her name and her mom continued, "Your father got a promotion..."
Celeste felt her worry fade away. She had gotten it all wrong; it was a special occasion. Nothing bad had happened. She looked up only to see her mother wasn't done.
"In Salem, Oregon," she finished.
Celeste choked on a piece of bacon and looked up in tears of disbelief in her eyes.
"Well dear, this could make us good money and I also found a job there,"she took a hasty breath and continued. "We found this amazing house with a huge backyard. We live in a place with a five-star school. You get your own room..."
Celeste's eyes continued to fill with tears until they were pouring down her face. "What if Caleb came back and we weren't here, then what?"
"Well," her father interrupted for her mom's sake, "We were hoping to move on, to a place where the memory doesn't haunt us."
Celeste couldn't take it. She bolted from the room, tears continuously leaking down her red, puffy face. She wanted to fight back and protest, but the decision was final. They were moving, but Celeste refused to accept defeat. She felt hopeless nonetheless. They were running away from her past here in Utah. Again and again they would run, but she couldn't escape herself.