Chapter Eleven
The Christmas tree stretches across the corner of the living room in such a crooked manner.
Each twig dangles out like some sort of dislocated limb, casting eerie shadows onto the walls next to it.
I frown as I stand here staring at it. It’s so ugly.
But she loved it, and watching her clap her small hands together as we lugged it inside, was enough to make me love it too.
The poor plant has been drying up in that corner for almost a week now, but Lilith and Adam don’t want to let it go.
“He’s part of the family now,” Adam had said as Lilith draped one of our only scarves across it.
They had named the thing Garret and against all protests from me, Garret was bound to stay inside the cabin.
“Are you harassing Garret again?” Adam’s voice carries through the living room with a hint of humor. I turn to look at him as he enters through the front door, snow speckling across his clothing.
“It’s his fault, he’s looking at me weird,” I huff out, unable to fight back the laughter. He shakes off his boots before making his way over to me. The smile on his face growing dimmer with each step.
“This was the last time my insider is going to be able to meet us. Elijah has begun running lie detectors on all of the staff at The Garden. She can’t put herself in danger.”
I nod, a grim feeling taking over. We need to get moving on our plan, it’s been too long. “So where does that leave us?” I ask. “What does our timeline look like?”
“We have about a week before we run out of food, we’re already completely empty of protein. If we don’t figure out something fast, we’re going to need to leave Colorado.” He looks over at me before continuing on. “We can only do so much with what we have, right now might not be the right time.”
The idea of leaving Elijah safe, wrapped tightly away in his little rehab makes me sick.
Especially with Lilith being here, her tether to him hasn’t been completely cut.
It won’t be until she can truly see what he’s done.
And none of that is going to be possible unless we can get in there.
I can’t risk losing her again, not now. “It needs to be, Adam.” He pulls in his lips at my words, staring at me with lack of confidence but much understanding.
“I can go out and see if I can find some game. We still have the old bow that was in the Cabin. But please give me time to think about the rest.”
“We don’t have time, Kameron.”
“A couple of days,” I argue back, “please, Adam. Please.”
He pleads his case silently to me, the look in his eye saying it all.
I don’t budge, I can’t. “Fine,” he finally responds, raising his arms up and dropping them again.
“But we need food, today.” I smile at him as the relief pulls itself off of my shoulders.
He returns the gesture, though it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.
I don’t blame him, years of being trapped in the hands of The Garden will destroy even the strongest men.
He’s lucky he was able to get out. The idea being the reason he ends back up there terrifies me.
But it’s a burden I’m willing to carry if it means keeping Lilith in my grasp.
I hold my breath as I watch the two rabbits pounce around in the snow.
Their small pads leave little indents , so insignificant compared to the vastness of the woods around us.
The bow string is taut from years of sitting, feeling almost brittle against my fingers as I pull it back. Deep breath, Kameron.
I slowly release my inhale as I let go of the string, the arrow flying towards one of the animals.
The tip of the arrow pierces through its white fur, painting the snow beneath it red.
The color of the blood begins to blur into the white around it as the familiar light headed feeling fills me.
I drop to my knees, grasping on to the dried grass peeking out of the white pile, fighting to keep a hold of myself.
The fight I have in me rapidly dissipates as the darkness creeps in.
It calls out to me, beckoning me to join it.
To fall into its grasp and let it hold me in its excruciating embrace.
Kameron- age 16
“Hit her!” The keyholder screams at me. I turn to look at the mangled woman in front of me.
Her matted hair caked with blood, bruises lining her arms from previous ‘lessons’.
It’s my third week here at the Sixth Sector, one of Apollyon’s underground branches of The Garden.
And to think that I thought being in his care couldn’t get worse.
This place was created upon a bed of nightmares.
A place where those who have wronged Apollyon come to live through the worst kind of pain.
A place he thought would be suitable for me, where I could learn to ‘become a man.’ Everyday is the same.
I’m woken up at sunrise by one of the staff members and brought to the keyholder’s chamber.
We go over our previous lesson before I’m dragged out here to hurt someone undeserving.
Until now, I had never laid my hands on a single soul out of anger, but here I must to survive.
“It’s either them or you, so get to fucking work,” the keyholder barks out at me, almost as if he can read my thoughts. I look over, my gaze fixating itself on her collarbones, unable to look at her. They peek out of her skin, dark hallows underneath them.
“Please don’t,” her plea comes out so softly. Bile rises up my throat as I finally make eye contact with her.
“I don’t have a choice.” My response causes her to slump down to the ground. The poor woman squeezes her eyes shut, and I notice the moment she disappears into her own head. It’s a mechanism I’ve become far too familiar with.
My hands work on autopilot, smashing down against her frail bones until I hear the splintering crack of one.
She doesn’t fight back, even as a section of her skeleton tears through the skin while it exits out of her forearm.
Blood sprays up, splattering across her sunken cheeks.
The woman’s eyes flash open with terror as she silently stares down at her arm.
Her jaw slackens and for a moment I pray to God that the amount of pain she’s in will simply cause her to faint.
Like usual, my prayers go unanswered by the man upstairs, and her screams echo through the room.
This time, I’m unable to stop the vomit.
The taste fills my mouth as I rush past the keyholder to get outside.
The moment the sun hit my face, another surge of the sickly fluid comes rushing up.
The sound of clapping fills the silence in between my gags, and I look up to find the keyholder grinning down at me.
“Your first time drawing blood,” he starts off, his smile growing wider.
“Before you know it, you’ll be completely desensitized, ready at our beck and call. You’ll finally have a purpose.”
I glare back at the concrete building, my stomach knots as I think of all the lessons to come.
I can’t continue on, I can’t become the monster.
Shame coats me as I think back to my past life, how just two years ago my aspiration was to become a preacher.
How could my life go from something so worthy of faith, to one of nothing but despair?