Chapter 15 #2
“Fine,” I snap, grabbing onto the hem before his hands can reach me.
Jerk.
My hands shake as I pull it over my head. He inhales, loud and sharp, at the splotches marring my stomach.
Reaching for my joggers, I slide them down.
There’s a gash on my thigh where the joggers were torn by an Enforcer’s knife when I begged for them to let me out of The Cell sometime between the rats leaving and the droning noise picking up again, but other than that, my lower legs are relatively unscathed.
“Get in,” Zac says hoarsely, tearing his eyes away.
He leans down to turn the tap off, every muscle taut.
I hesitantly throw a leg over the tub, wobbling slightly.
His hands catch mine, steadying me as he guides me in.
Sitting down, I exhale, hugging my knees to my chest. My underwear clings, wet and soggy, to my skin.
Zac crouches down beside me and grabs the empty toothbrush holder I’d shoved on the side. He fills it with water, then slowly pours it over my hair. The warmth spreads through my scalp and the softness of his touch steals my breath.
Reaching across, he grabs my bottle of shampoo, squeezing a dollop out, and works it through my hair.
His fingers move slowly and carefully, making sure he doesn’t tug or hurt me.
This isn’t the Zac I thought I knew—the one I despise, the one who’s infuriating, arrogant, impossible.
This is… someone else entirely. Someone capable of kindness, of care, of being painfully and achingly present for me.
It’s a shame that it’s nothing more than guilt.
I wait until he’s washed the shampoo away, and only then do I find the courage to speak, my voice unsteady.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
He nods, jaw still tense as he sits back, watching me. “Tell me what they did,” he asks pleadingly.
“No.” I shake my head, fingers gripping my knees. “I don’t want to think about it,” I say quickly. “And… I don’t think you want to hear it.” He opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. “Please, Zac.”
We fall into a tense silence, and my eyes fix on the small, frosted window as the warm water soothes my aches and pains.
I never want to go back there. Never want to relive that crushing terror, that unending darkness, ever again. The horror, the new levels that were inflicted after Kayla was freed... I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
“How old are you?” Zac finally breaks the silence, his question so unexpected that my brow lifts and I turn to look at him.
“Twenty-one,” I reply. “You?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Guess that’s why we were paired up then,” I say after a moment. “They had to put you with someone. Maybe they pulled my name out of a hat.” I let out a dry, hollow chuckle.
“Probably,” he murmurs. “Sorry.”
His expression is so forlorn, so defeated, and the weight of it slams into me. For him, all of a sudden, this marriage—or the consequences of it at least—is real. And by the way his chest heaves, I’m almost certain he’s forcing himself to drown in a sea of guilt.
“What do they make you do?” I ask quietly, resting my chin on my knee. “For your job?”
“Delivery driver,” Zac answers. “Food, weapons, clothing… You name it, I transport it.”
“To where?”
“The other cities. The wall.” He shrugs. “Wherever they want.”
“How many cities are there?”
“Only three,” he says. “Manchester, York, and Newcastle. We’re the largest.” I let his words sink in. Let the devastation of the war infiltrate down to my bones.
“I thought Leeds was still standing after the war…”
Zac’s jaw tightens. He swallows, silent for a moment before reaching for my pink loofah. Dipping it into the soapy water, he squeezes it out and offers it to me. When I reach to take it, my arm trembles. He tears it back from my grasp, running it over my shoulders himself.
He’s careful and soft, nothing I’d ever have attributed to the muscular, broad-shouldered man beside me. Washing me. Helping me.
“Just because Leeds was still functioning after the war doesn’t mean the State let them continue,” he says. His words land thick and heavy, the splash of water the only sound between us.
Slowly, I lift my head from my knees. “They obliterated a city?”
Seeing how they don’t want us leaving the city we’re assigned to, I’m not sure I’m entirely surprised by the revelation.
Zac shrugs. Gently, he grabs my wrist, extending it. “Don’t know. I’m just saying… there’s no Leeds anymore. No Middlesbrough, either.”
“What did they do with the people?”
“Probably funnelled them into York. Manchester, maybe.”
I tug my lip between my teeth, watching as he rinses out the loofah. The bathwater is murky.
“I think some people escaped,” I say. He doesn’t react, just moves his attention to my other arm. “Don’t you? There must be people out there,” I insist. “Ones who haven’t been trapped into cities by the State. Living in the countryside, evading the Enforcers.”
“Maybe.” Zac shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.” He glances up, emotionless eyes meeting mine. “We’re stuck here.”
“We are,” I murmur.
His jaw tightens, and he drops the loofah back into the water, wrings it out, and guides it over the top of my back. I hiss as he grazes a cut, breath catching in my throat.
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Emilia,” he murmurs.
I don’t reply.
We’re stuck here.
No hope, no comfort, no wishful thinking, no fairytales—the electrified barrier that cuts through England solidifies that. We don’t even know how the other three sectors are governed, but I’m pretty certain they’re under the same type of rule.
A hierarchy that presses down, suffocating us with their giant, torturous boots.
We’re stuck here.
“Come on, the water is getting cold,” Zac mutters at last, dragging me from my miserable thoughts.
“I like it,” I murmur, eyes lowering to the dark water. “It numbs everything.”
He holds out a hand, and my eyes catch on the dark ink above three of his knuckles. For a long moment, I just stare. He’s not even trying to hide these ones.
“I know,” Zac says, voice gruff. “But it’s filthy. And the cold and dirt… that’s not good for you. Getting ill means involving the State. We need to stay off their radar as much as possible.”
I bite my lip. He’s right. I never want to go back to The Cell. Three times is three too many.
“Fine,” I relent, sliding my hand on top of his. His palm is warm against mine, and slightly rough.
My body warms, leaning towards him and craving comfort when it absolutely shouldn’t.
He slides his arm around my waist and practically lifts me from the bath.
When I’m steady, he grabs me a towel and I wrap it around myself.
For a second, he doesn’t move, just stands there, eyes flicking over my face as if trying to think what to say.
Finally, he says, “I’ll leave you to get dressed.”
“Thanks, Zac.” He nods once before bending to collect my torn clothes. Then he’s gone, the stairs creaking a moment later.
Slowly, I limp to the bedroom, grimacing at the clothes scattered all over the place. I’m so goddamn messy, and right now, my eyes sting, and my lips tremble at the sight of it.
Reaching over the edge of the bed, a moan of pain slips out as I grab my lilac leggings and a cream hoodie that’s hanging off the bedside table.
The leggings are the only comfortable trousers I own now that my grey joggers have been ruined.
It takes far longer than it should to pull them on, every movement stiff.
I run a brush through my wet hair, ripping at the knots. The sting in my scalp is nothing compared to the throb in my hip or the ache that wracks my shoulder. Tears still linger at the back of my eyes, threatening to spill. One wrong move, and I’ll break down.
Dropping the hairbrush, my gaze lifts to the mirror. The hollow-eyed, pale girl that stares back is almost unrecognisable.
But I’ve done this before. I can get over it again.
Tearing my eyes away, I hobble to the stairs. As I leave the final step, Zac emerges from the kitchen, striding through the living room, barely sparing me a glance as he reaches for the front door.
“Where are you going?” I rasp, clutching at the bannister.
“We still have no food,” he replies. He... he’s going to the store.
Alone.
Panic explodes in my chest. I lunge forward, hands clamping onto the lapels of his leather jacket. “No!” I cry. “No! You can’t!”
“Why?”
“It’s one of the rules! There was a girl in The Cell with me, all because she went to the store without her husband!” My fingers clutch as tightly as possible and I weakly attempt to pull him away from the door. “Zac, you can’t!” He doesn’t budge.
“Emilia—”
“We can’t risk it,” I insist. “I’m coming.”
“Emilia,” he says, sharper now. “Look at you. You’re going nowhere.”
“I can do it. It won’t be far.”
He shakes his head, expression tense as he leads me over to the sofa.
“You can’t,” he says firmly. “And regardless, I actually knew about that rule.”
“You… You did?”
“It’s one of the only ones I remember Claudia telling me,” he murmurs. He pauses, eyes locking on mine. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”
“Zac—”
“I mean it, Emilia,” he interrupts. Quickly, he reaches across, picking up my trampled book from the floor. He presses it into my hands.
“Zac!”
“Read. Relax. I won’t be long.”
“Zac, no. Zac!” I yell, hurling the book onto the seat beside me and struggling to my feet. “They’ll arrest you— Zac!”
The door slams behind him.
I collapse.