22. Heavy Silene
22
Heavy: Silene
D espite the fact that the sun is not visible through the window I’m facing, blinding light still bleeds into the room. Deep in the forest, it was easier to ignore with the trees surrounding us at every angle, keeping us shaded at almost every hour of the day before night drowned us in darkness. So, despite the harshness of the light, I find myself inching closer to the window, squinting as I let the light wash over my skin.
After Ronan and I discovered the hidden stairwell and the branching tunnels that pour out from it, we discussed the best way to tell the group of what he found while they slept completely unaware. We talked about what each symbol on the map meant and the possibilities that were born from it.
We formed a plan.
A loose plan, but a plan nonetheless.
There’s nothing concrete about what had been our tired ramblings, but it was more than we had twenty-four hours ago, and that’s something.
Tilting my head over my shoulder, I see Carmen approaching me. Her steps are quiet, and when I get a good look at her, I see the bone deep fatigue that clings to her every movement. Each step drags across the floor, her posture slightly hunched and her gold-flecked hazel eyes are so dull—so lifeless. I refuse to comment on these things, and instead turn my head back forward, letting the moment stretch for a while.
“You still don’t trust them.” Her statement is quiet, but it’s one that feels like a question as well as a fact. I can’t help but think about everything that I’ve noticed since we’ve been here. The warning I was given, my dreams, Adonis’ silent rage, Nate’s skepticism.
Ronan’s ability to be absolutely infuriating while he waits for me to figure something out for myself, while also caring for me in a way that feels too intimate in this setting. Every single person has something to lose, and whoever is lying is doing a damn good job at making sure it’s not their life that abruptly ends.
“I do not.” I turn back towards the window, letting myself adjust to the bright light, before searching for any sign of life. As far as I can see, there appears to be nothing but trees. It would be easy though, for anyone to become invisible at such a distance. I find myself grateful that no one is close enough to the house to be spotted.
“All of them?”
I don’t answer her question for a while and instead let it sink in. Wondering for a few moments before turning to make eye contact with her, but she keeps her focus on the view instead.
“Yes. All.”
Carmen hums in thought, and I wish I knew what was going on in her mind. When her eyes gloss over and she enters this faraway place, I wonder where it is that she goes. I long to know what she finds there.
“Do you want to know what I remembered?” she asks, and I startle when she does. I search the area around us, looking for the men, but no one is in the room with us so I slowly nod my head. Before she can answer though, I find myself asking one more question.
“Did you lie last night?”
“No. But I wasn’t wholly honest, either.” Her response is immediate, as if she anticipated my question, and so I nod and face the window again and what lies ahead, humming in thought, waiting for her to speak.
“It’s why I don’t get much sleep,” she starts, a slight tremble in her voice. “I try my best to, but it can be so incredibly heavy. Sometimes, it’s easier to close my eyes and pretend something better finds me.” She pauses for a moment, and I stare at her in the reflection of the glass, watching her chest rise and fall evenly with closed eyes. But when they open, it’s not only exhaustion that I see, but a look of someone that’s being haunted by the simple memory of what they had endured.
“I remember my father more than I wish I did—the marks he left on me after my mother passed. I remember how he beat me into a silent submission. I was so terribly lost for so long just doing what would keep me alive in hopes of finding a better way of living. I—” She stops for a moment, taking a deep breath when she realizes that her voice has increased, not just in speed, but in volume as well. I allow myself this moment to inspect the room, ensuring it’s still empty before offering her my hand. She gently wraps her pinky around mine, a habit we’ve fallen into these past few days. I want to believe it’s carried over from our life before all of this.
“I don’t regret asking for your help. I know it was selfish. If I hadn’t, neither of us would be in this situation. But, I know that I wouldn’t have survived much longer there if I kept living the way I was.”
She steals a glance at me through our reflection, giving me a tight lipped smile before looking down and continuing. “I can’t help but be thankful that I’m here. With you. In the chaos, you have remained steady. I can think of no better way of dying.”
I turn to face her completely and cradle her cheeks in my hands, forcing her to meet my eyes. If I could take away the pain she has lived and is forced to replay in her mind—forced to feel all over again, I would.
“You’re not going to die. We get out of here. Tomorrow. And then we live.”
If uncertainty was a picture, she would be the painting. Her inhale is soft and slow as she backs away from me. With furrowed brows, crinkled eyes, and a fallen smile, there’s no questioning whether she believes me or not. I know she doesn’t. If it’s due to a lack of faith in me or the naivety that died the first time her father laid a hand on her, I can’t say. But I won’t fault her for being skeptical.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Ronan and I think we found the way out,” I say softly, reaching for her hand again. She allows me to hold it within my own, but still appears to be uncertain about the words that I say, so I give her hand a gentle squeeze before adding, “A real way out of all of this”
“I thought you didn’t trust him?” she counters, as she shifts her weight. I feel her palms grow sweaty as she scans my features. I know my smile is relaxed, but my brows are practically halfway up my forehead as I try to convince her to trust me. The way she has this whole time, I just need it to continue a little longer. No matter how things look, I just need her to trust me.
“He doesn’t trust anyone here either, but he wants out. And we found the way together.”
“How do you know he didn’t find it earlier? They all kept the files from us. What if they kept that away too? To try and gain your favor.” As the words leave her lips, my mouth pops open, suddenly dry. Turning the possibility over in my head, it feels wrong. Asking her to trust me is different than me trusting anyone else here, but the idea of Ronan plotting something like this just…doesn’t feel right.
It feels nauseating and disgusting and impossible. The idea makes me sick, and I know I wouldn’t feel this way if I truly held any distrust for him. I may still be weary, but my gut is telling me our discovery last night was genuinely that. Ours.
So, I roll with that, forcing my face into a neutral expression and squeezing her hand once more before letting go and continuing.
“Trust me. Please. You have this far, I need you to keep doing so, just a little longer.” I’m not sure if it was my tone of voice, pleading with her, or the fact that I actually asked her for something, but her shoulders release the tension that was holding her hostage as they fall forward. She nods her head quickly. Now that both of her hands are free, she wraps her arms around her body before asking me if I really believe we have a chance at this.
When she does, I just gently smile as I’m reminded of all the times I’ve made this promise and how every time I answer, it’s the same. I’m certain we live through this. The first time she had approached me about her father’s activities, I told her we would figure it out together. When we were in the field alone and I felt compelled to save her, and before we found the fence, I told her the promise I made to myself regarding her safety. It’s non-negotiable.
“I don’t just believe, I know. We’ll get out of here, move to Greece and live on a goat farm. I think you would like it there,” I respond, and for the first time, a small smile—a genuine one—breaks through any cracks of doubt that remained. It’s accompanied by a small chuckle as she looks down at the ground and covers her face with her hands before pushing them through her hair and out of her face. None of what she did was big or boisterous, in fact, all her actions were minimal and contained. Nonetheless, being on the receiving end of them felt foreign, and I suspect it may have been the first time she’s had any real hope in a very long time.
“Why’d you leave?”
The last time I had this conversation was with Ronan. Beside him, I never spoke of why I left home or what happened there. I never spoke of my family life, one that was far too similar to her own before I took matters into my own hands. I never wanted to remind myself of what I had to do and wonder what kind of person that made me in the end.
“I had no one, and no good memories,” I say so quietly that I’m not sure if she hears me, but if she doesn’t, she doesn’t say anything. I turn back to face the outdoors. “It was easier that way, but I do miss it at times. To move back with a friend, somewhere I know we could both call home, I could think of nothing more beautiful after so much pain.”
Another small, simple smile appears on her face through the reflection for a moment, but I don’t appreciate it the way I should because I’m locked in memories and thoughts of how to make these promises come true.
We do not die today.
This becomes a prayer to whatever or whoever is out there listening to me.
I refocus my attention on the reflection of her behind me but watch as her smile falters and her gaze falls to the ground as if any hope is reserved only for my eyes as Ronan approaches.
His steps are hesitant, and he rubs his palms on his pant legs and furrows his brows. His discomfort in interrupting us is obvious, but I’m grateful for the reprieve. Not from Carmen, but my own mind with its festering thoughts begging to make an appearance, but I can’t let anyone else see the uncertainty and the pressure I’ve put on myself. I cannot falter or break when we’re finally close to getting out of this mess.
But as Ronan gets closer, he seems uncomfortable and standoffish. I don’t know how to explain it, but it doesn’t feel like the man that I spent half the night plotting with or the one who comforted me during the storm. This feels like a man hiding something and suddenly Carmen’s question is at the forefront of my mind.
Am I sure I can give him access to even a fraction of my trust right now? Or will it get me killed?
“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I took the initiative in telling the other two there’s been a new development. I didn’t want to tell them everything without you…” he trails off, and I turn to face him fully, taking in his whole appearance. Unlike Carmen and I, who had changed back into our original clothes now that they have been semi washed and died over the course of the night, he remains in the sweatpants and t-shirt that he had slept in. His wavy raven hair is disheveled and his five o’clock shadow has become more prominent—slightly longer and fuller than I recall ever seeing it before.
I assumed he would have done what Nathaniel did and used a dagger and conditioner to shave, but he hasn’t. Not yet, at least. The ruggedness would be appealing if his annoying smirk would find its way back to him or if there was any light in his eyes, but all playfulness has gone into hiding. It’s odd, the contrast from him last night to now when all that separates the two things has been sleep.
But I don’t ask about it, instead I just dip my chin and allow Carmen to walk ahead of me before following in the rear. But as I move to pass Ronan, he reaches his calloused hands out to grip my elbow and I freeze, inhaling sharply at the sudden contact. It takes everything in me to not look at him, so instead, I look at the only point of contact we share. It can’t be more than a minute of us like that, me waiting with bated breaths for him to say something witty or sarcastic, but he doesn’t. A minute of me staring down at the way his thumb, the one vowing loyalty to only me, slowly rubs circles on my skin before he grips my arm tighter.
I cannot begin to guess what’s on his mind and what he’s fighting to say or not say in his head, but Nathaniel shatters the moment when he and Adonis enter the room.
“So, Ronan said you found something,” I sharply turn my gaze to him as Ronan’s hand drops, his jaw ticking in what appears to be annoyance. He doesn’t meet the challenge in my gaze as I wonder why he gave me full credit, but keeps his eyes locked on the part of my arm where his hand had just been. I wait a beat hoping that I can get him to just look at me, but he turns away, sharply breathing in through his nose as if he’s forcing himself back to reality instead.
“Technically, we both found it after everyone went to bed,” I reply distractedly, as I track Ronan’s every clipped movement and the way his muscled arms contract with tension while his other hand tightens around the paper I hadn’t realized he was holding before he takes a deep breath and kneels on the ground. Gently, he unrolls the map we found and tries to smooth the wrinkles that formed within his harsh grip.
Carmen’s eyes go wide at the sight, all breath loosed from her parted lips. Adonis takes a knee next to Ronan, lightly picking up one of the corners and bringing it closer to himself to get a better look. Nathaniel tilts his head, curiosity lingering behind his brown eyes.
“This can definitely be useful,” He hums as he leans between Ronan and Adonis, taking in every line the same way I had when I first saw it. “Do you know where these lead or how to even get in?” he questions, looking at Ronan and I expectantly. I fix my attention onto Ronan who quickly averts his gaze as soon as ours were meant to meet. His distance is concerning, though it only helps make this situation easier. Neither of us trust anyone, and the closer we get, the larger this predicament will become when all of this comes to an end.
His distance is for the best.
The whole group makes their way to the steps. No one fills the silence, the only sound is the loud creak of the stairs under our feet. I take the initiative to bend my body through the chopped wooden door and watch as each person enters after. Every face has varying looks of disgust as the body remains and the smell of rotting flesh has only grown stronger over the course of the night.
Still, no one speaks as they wait for whatever revelation lies ahead, and I tip my head back in quiet thought of what revealing this to everyone could mean for us. When I do though, the pain in my neck that has refused to fully vanish resurfaces. I can’t help but wince and raise my hand to put pressure on it before turning back to open the wall. As I take a step forward, stretching out my hand, I find Ronan’s own wrapping around my wrist, pulling my focus away from the task at hand.
“Are you hurt?” The seriousness that is held in the conviction of his question stuns me, and I can’t do anything but shake my head.
“No, no I think I just slept wrong. It’s been hurting since we got here, but I’ll be fine.” I attempt to roll my shoulders back and pull my wrist free but he keeps it in his grip, forcing me to stay still.
“Stop,” Ronan says. I attempt to question him, but when his other hand moves to my neck, pushing aside the loose curls that escaped my messy bun, to get a better look I pause.
“My neck feels the same. I assumed it was the same thing but…it shouldn’t still hurt like this,” he murmurs in a hushed tone barely even audible to me. Chills roll down my spine at the contact and the softness of his touch, and it’s a struggle to push away every conflicting thought that drifts through my mind.
“There’s something here,” he continues. I try to turn to him, but he grips the base of my neck and forces my head so far forward that my chin touches my chest. He grazes his fingers over the area that has been bothering me. The second he applies pressure in two different places, and slightly presses them toward each other, my head jerks back up and I force my elbow out in defense. The hit doesn’t land as he side steps and levels me with a stare—hands up in mock surrender.
“Now, now, Killer. There’s no need to get violent,” he tsks as I send a glare his way promising death if he ever does that again, and for the first time today, he smirks. The asshole smirks as if my reaction was predictable.
“There’s something under your skin and a cut that is mostly healed, but the skin is still irritated.” I cover the back of my neck with my hand protectively, though I already feel uncomfortable knowing someone had quite literally buried something unknown in my body without my knowledge.
“What do you mean there’s—” Carmen rushes out, but Ronan answers before she can finish.
“My guess is a tracker. It’s the only thing that makes sense. How else would they know exactly where we are at any given moment?” He questions, but nobody answers as we all stare at one another accusingly. “I suggest the three of you check amongst yourselves to make sure there’s nothing there, but I have a feeling it’s just Silene and me” he finishes, chancing a quick look in my direction before turning his attention back to the ground.
“Why would it only be the two of you?” Nathaniel questions while harshly pushing his fingers into the base of his neck, then feeling his way all the way up to his hairline. Ronan doesn’t answer until everyone has checked and confirmed his suspicions. And then he still doesn’t answer. Not for a while at least. Even when the atmosphere turns awkward.
“Just a guess,” he murmurs before reaching his hand out for me to take and leading my body back in front of him and to the wood paneled wall. As I ease my fingers from his, I watch him keep it held out for a moment before slowly dropping and flexing it at his side. When I turn my attention forward, I inhale deeply before pushing in, hearing the visceral reactions of my peers behind me.
But while they see a way out, all I can think is that the perfect trap has been laid. The words of a dying man replay in my mind, and I can’t help wondering if he was ever lying at all.
No way out.