Weaving my way through the dirt path that’s been permanently beaten down after decades of morning runs, the symphony of flittering birds singing in my ears, I can’t help but admire the trees under the Sun’s morning glow. The only nice thing about this place are the abundant woods surrounding the entire compound.
The school is in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, intended to prevent us from running away. For some have been idiotic enough to try. And failed every time, either coming back in the scraps of what they left in, or disappearing forever, adding yet another name to the list of lives taken by this Gods awful place.
The only way to get is by horse, all of which they keep armed to the teeth 50 miles away. Though, for the most part, it doesn’t matter. Even if there was something nearby, most of us wouldn't risk it. Not when the nights are filled with the howls of wolves three times larger and ten times faster than any of us.
The smell of rain fills my nose, soothing the aching of my body. Thunderstorms are my favorite part of spring. For many, the cracks and crashes of thunder and lightning add to the misery of this place. But for me, they only bring peace and serenity. For me, rain means life. It means hope that there is still a part of the world that is not contained. Not entrapped in an eternal prison. But I sure as hell don’t want to get caught in the storm brewing above, threatening to drown me as I retrieve the lost boy the Colonel called Fox.
⭒ ⭒ ⭒
After what seems like days, I finally find the onyx haired boy from earlier laying face down in the vines consuming the left side of the path. I gape at the sight and stop in my tracks.
Those assholes seriously just left him there like that? What is wrong with them?
Jogging over to him, I gently shake his back, “Fox?” I crouch over his slumped figure and again rock his unconscious body, this time a bit harsher, “Fox.” He doesn't budge an inch.
Oh for the love of the Mother, “FOX!” I yell, slapping him across his cheek, attempting to drag him awake.
But Mother help me, he still refuses to so much as twitch in reaction. Fear floods my veins as I check his pulse. I wait for a few moments, attempting to find it in the clammy area of his neck. My fingers press in deeper, and I release a tight breath when I at last locate it softly beating. He’s alive.
I let out a relieved breath. I would be rather annoyed if I had to haul his dead body back. I’m not much happier to drag his unconscious one, but at least he’s alive. For now. I can only imagine what punishment he’ll get when he finally wakes up. But there’s nothing I can do to stop that, not when it’ll only end up in us both getting lashed. And I have absolutely no intention of having my back whipped to a slab of meat today. No thank you.
Hoisting him up by his arms, I can’t suppress the groan from being under the weight of the behemoth teen I’m supporting. I toss both of his arms over my shoulders, his legs falling out from under him as I begin to drag him back to the school.
My feet are on the brink of collapse, and I’m actively ignoring the fact that I’m about to embark on what’s going to be a very, very long eight miles. His head bounces back and forth as I force my way down the path. Ordinarily, this would be a relatively easy task. I’ve had enough strength training to carry someone three times my body weight. But after the 20 miles I’ve already completed, my legs are starting to feel more like dead fish than parts of my body.
It only gets worse when the rain starts. What begins as a light cooling sprinkle quickly turns into a Godsdamn hurricane. The rain is now pouring down so profusely that I keep losing my grip on the boy's arms, having to readjust my hands every few seconds. Gods help us both.
⭒ ⭒ ⭒
After a miserable hour of trudging back to the compound, we at last make it to the doors that lead to the General’s office. We’re absolutely drenched, and made a trail of mud and freezing water in our wake, but I managed to get us here, and I’ll take the win for what it is.
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The storm out there is absolutely mental, the winds are so fierce you can hear them whipping the outside of the compound, as if they too are trying to escape the bitter cold that’s swept in. The horrid insulation has allowed for a ten degree temperature drop since this morning, and I can literally see my breath clouding in front of me. To make it worse, I’m soaked down to the bone with no way of drying off.
Wonderful.
My feet should be considered Godsdamned heroes for the 40 miles they’ve just triumphed over. But now is not the time to think about how much pain they’re in. Not when I’m about to enter actual hell.
I reach for the handle, but the sound coming from the room makes me hesitate. My gut already twisting into a string of knots. Doing my best to swallow back a lump in my throat, I knock three times.
The screaming of the boy inside turns to pained whimpers as footsteps storm towards me. The large, impossibly dark door opens a crack, the light from the room seeming to be eaten up by the strange buzzing stone.
“What do you want?” The Colonel barks.
“I’ve got Fox, sir,” I say breathless. The kid didn’t wake the entire walk back. I checked his pulse more than once just to be sure he really wasn’t dead.
The Colonel swings the door open and crosses his arms against his wide chest, looking the both of us up and down, “He dead?”
I shake my head, beads of sweat and rain pelting the floor, “No, sir.”
The Colonel grunts and beckons me in, “Put him in the corner and get to the gym.”
I drag in the sagging body of the boy, doing my best to avoid looking at the swirling blood and skin idly drifting down the drain, the constant slow drip making my steps falter. But the wreckage of the boy's back is not the only thing I’m avoiding. That I can manage, seeing that I’ve been hung by those chains more times than I can count.
What I don’t want to see is the snarl the General is most definitely pointing in my direction, daring me to protest against the torture he’s preforming on the kid. I’ve done that one too many times, and paid the consequences routinely, the punishments only increasing with each “lesson”.
I slump the elephant of a guy on the ground and cringe as his head hits the floor harder than I’d intended. I’ve almost made it out, I’m so close that I can feel the frigid air lurking in the dark hall. At least, until that bone chilling voice grazes my ear.
“You and I have some business to attend to, Della.”
My breath leaves me entirely, my skin prickling at the name. This is going to be bad. Really bad. I can tell by the tone of his voice. Hopefully I can escape him and his wrath until-
“It’s disrespectful to withhold a response to your superiors, girl. Do we need to teach you to respect your superiors once more, Della?” He snaps, his teeth clacking with.
Shaking my head like a wet dog, I mutter, “No, sir.”
“Then what do you say?” His voice is cold, unfeeling, lacking a soul.
“I understand.”
“You understand what?”
“I understand, sir.” My voice is no more than a whisper.
“I’m not so sure you do,” he muses, and my eyes finally meet his. His soulless irises already boring into my own, forcing a tremor down my spine.
“I’m sorry, sir?”
“Yes, you will be, I’m sure,” the General smiles wickedly, making even Kraus go still as death, “Della, do you know what time it is?”
Again, I shake my head. I have no clue, to be quite honest. Maybe mid day?
“Pity. I suppose you’ll find out soon enough.” He tsks, leaving my mind running in a thousand different directions as I try to figure out whatever that means.
“Leave now, girl.” He barks, pulling me out of my endless thoughts. I don’t hesitate, my feet flying into action to get me as far away from this demonic room as possible.
“And clean up that damn mess,” Kraus demands.
I’m not even a foot out of the room when the large stone door crashes close behind me, making me jump on my already tender feet.
Today is going to be a long, long day.