Chapter 1: The White Room

Kara walked hesitantly towards the locked room, afraid of what she would find. Her hand clenched the key so tightly that it practically left an imprint on her sweaty palm. When she finally stood before the metal door, she held her breath and then, her hand shaking violently, inserted the key into the lock and pushed open the door.

The consequent light was practically blinding as she stepped inside. When her eyes had adjusted, she noticed that the room was completely white, startlingly so. The room was devoid of anything other than a sheetless and blanketless cot and a bright red piece of cloth, a blindfold, that lay discarded on the floor - a conspicuous stain amongst the white.

Her eyes traveled from the fabric to the corner of the cot where, huddled so closely against the wall she hadn’t seen him immediately, was Ethen. There was some dried blood and a few angry looking welts around Ethen’s bony wrists, but his eyes, now sunken and dulled, drew her attention, they stared unseeing into nothingness – two blank holes on his gaunt and pale face.

As she approached him cautiously, she noticed a spattering of blue and purple bruises that peeked out from his tattered white shirt. He was much thinner than the last time she had seen him, two years ago. Back then, though his face had been contorted in anger, it had been alive with emotion. He had been nothing at all like the emaciated person in front of her.

His blue eyes focused on her, first without comprehension, as though reality and illusion had been woven too closely together that they were nearly inseparable. But slowly, the listless emptiness dissipated slightly, giving way to a budding hostility. “Why did you come?” Ethen croaked, his voice cracked and dry, indicating he had been deprived of water for a few days.

“You know why,” she said, her voice a deafening whisper in the silent room.

Ethen didn’t look at her; he merely curled tighter into his ball and pressed his back further against the wall. Unconsciously she closed the distance between them and, when she had reached the bed, she tentatively raised a hand to touch his.

“D-don’t you dare touch me!” he screamed, jerking away from her.

Her hand dropped limply to her side and she bit her lip as tears pricked at her eyes. However, instead of despair, a steely coldness swept through her. “Let’s leave. I’d rather spend as little time as possible here.”

“No. I’m waiting for him. For Bartholomew. He said he would come.”

“No one else is coming,” she said, managing to force emotion from her voice, even if she couldn’t control her own internal reactions; her heart had quickened in her chest because now she knew, from the moment he had greeted her, that he had already known the answer to his statement and the insinuated actions she had had to take against Bartholomew.

Ethen hitched a breath and, for a second, his previously dead eyes filled with pained emotion, but that quickly cascaded into a judgmental stare that seemed to pierce her heart and cause tears to prick at the corner of her eyes. With resolute determination, she kept them at bay, even at his next words.

“You don’t care. Murderer,” he said.

Her hazel eyes flashed with pain at the implications of his reaction; he already suspected part of the truth. She quickly hid her reaction by turning her back to him, her auburn hair whipping around her head.

After a pause, Ethen said brusquely in a rather thick voice, as though suppressing tears, “I want to change.” She turned to face him, but, before she could speak, he said, “I know where to find some clothes. Go and wait for me outside.”

The urge to argue against his demand was strong, but she clamped her mouth shut and nodded. His skeletal form swept past her and out of the door. As she watched him leave, she wondered whether he really would meet her outside or whether he would take off by himself. She couldn’t decide which she would prefer. After a few seconds, she followed him out of the room, and trudged down the stairs and out of the building into the hostile and cold night air.

Kara awoke, cracking her eyes open, as the warm body beside her moved. “What’re you doing?” she mumbled, stretching and rubbing sleep from her eyes. Blearily she gazed up at Ethen, his lightly-tanned chest illuminated by the light from the rising sun, which peaked through the leafy tree outside. Birds danced and chirped outside the window, hopping around on the trees’ branches. Ethen raked a hand through his black hair as he stretched. “I need my shirt,” he said around a yawn. The bed dipped as he slid out of it. He fumbled around in the dark and picked up his shirt. After he pulled it over his head, he bent over her then pressed his lips to hers, but when he tried to pull away, Kara held onto him.

“Oh come on, don’t leave,” she said equally playful and serious. “ I won’t be seeing you for a whole week. Stay a bit longer.”

Ethen kissed her deeply then broke her tight hold on him. “I’ll always come back,” he said before slipping out the door, closing it behind him.