Working in the fields that day helped me keep my mind off of the bullet holes in the wall. I tried to focus on what a nice day it was instead; the sun warming my back, the gentle wind picking up and setting down my hair. This was always my favorite time of year. Early spring, when the flowers were blooming and the weather got warmer.
As I make my way down the next row of apple trees, I hear something. I set down the heavy basket of apples I’d been lugging around all day and walk slowly toward the sound. As I get closer, I see a girl with brown hair. Then I realize that the girl is Lyra and the sound I’m hearing is her singing. In my attempt to get closer, my foot finds a twig and she turns around with a start.
“Sorry,” I apologize. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like this.”
“That’s okay. You can come join me if you want,” she said. At least I’m pretty sure what she said. This was the first time I’d ever heard her speak and naturally she had a quiet voice. Though she didn’t object when I carried my basket over, set it down next to hers, and sat down with her on the grass. She was shy, and didn’t make eye contact.
“You have a beautiful singing voice,” I tell her. She smiles and blushes.
“Thanks,” she answers. “It means a lot.”
“Is there a reason that you never speak?” I ask her. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I was just wondering,” I add. Her smile fades and she looks in the opposite direction. I think I see a tear slide down her cheek.
“I’m sor—,” I start, but am interrupted.
“My parents hated me,” she says, so softly even after moving closer, I could barely hear her. “They said everything that came out of my mouth was garbage and that they wouldn’t hear it. When I told them I wanted to be a singer, they told me that no one would listen to such horrible noise. When I was nine or ten, I started believing them. I stopped talking because I feared that everything I said was garbage. They still hated me though. They beat me and cursed at me. Then, just two years ago, they emancipated me and I was brought here.” More tears left her eyes. I hug her shaking body.
“I know no amount of apologies will make it up to you, but I’m really sorry,” I whisper. “I can’t believe they had the nerve to treat you like that.”
“No,” she says, voice shaking, “you’ve already made it up to me. You listened to me.” I pull her closer to me and find a tear running down my face.
“Thanks,” she says as I wipe the tears off her cheeks. Then, not worrying about the consequences, we each pluck an apple off of a tree and bite into them. The simple things, like feeling the sweet juice of an apple fill my mouth and dribble down my chin, are the things that make me smile these days.
“So you haven’t talked to anyone?” I ask, hoping the subject wasn’t too delicate.
“Well, there was one other person before you…” she starts. I felt like I had a pretty good idea on who that was, then, as if proving my hunch correct, Caleb appears.
“Hey Ly—,” he starts, then finds my face and pauses. “Oh, hi Olivia,” he says slightly nervously. He flashes a questioning look at Lyra and she nods in response. I took that at as him asking her if I knew everything, but I can’t be sure.
Caleb sat down next to her. I wasn’t sure if they had any feelings for each other, but they would probably rather be left alone anyway. It seemed like Caleb and Lyra met to talk almost every day out in the fields.
“Well,” I say, picking up my basket of apples, “I guess I’ll see you guys at dinner.”
“No, it’s okay,” Lyra says. “You can stay if you want.” Caleb doesn’t seem totally thrilled, but doesn’t say anything. I hoped I wasn’t intruding, even if Lyra did offer, but I didn’t want to keep picking apples, so I set my basket down again.
“How old were you?” Lyra asks me after a short pause. “You know…when your parents passed.” I flashback to the day six years ago.
“I was ten,” I answer. “It was scary. Just hearing all the gun shots and explosions. Seeing the flames out your window. Then waking up the next morning to find your parents missing. And then hearing that they had been killed. Before I knew it, I was being hauled off to an unknown place with people who the only thing I knew about them was that they were in the same situation I was in.” I remember sobbing that morning. I even remember Marcus crying, no matter how hard he tried not to.
“I’m so sorry,” Lyra says sympathetically. Caleb nods in agreement.
“Do you think you’ll ever be safe?” Caleb asks. I bite my lip and squeeze my eyes shut.
“I hope so,” I whisper.
We decide to start working again after half an hour or so; sauntering up and down rows upon rows of apple trees. When our baskets fill up with bright red, gold, and green apples, we walk back toward the building to get another basket to fill. We had been talking about life before here and I got to know them pretty well.
Shrieks and shouts fill the air in the distance. We exchange looks of confusion and panic and sprint as quickly as we can with the baskets of apples in our hands. As the building comes into view, I see bright orange flames consuming the entire east side and spreading fast. I stand there frozen, then think about everyone still inside. Everyone working the fields and even some people who were inside and lucky enough to escape were running away, I look over at Caleb who had grabbed Lyra’s hand.
“C’mon Olivia!” he shouts over the chaos. “We have to get away!”
“You two go!” I respond. They’re hesitant to leave me behind. I dash toward the building in hopes of getting inside and finding the others.
“Olivia!” I hear Caleb shout behind me, but ignore him and keep running. I’m engulfed in smoke as I near the building and immediately start coughing. A tall concrete structure with flames spilling out from the inside looms above me. I feel the fire’s scorching heat surrounding me. There are a series of screams. Then a deafening explosion.
The blow threw me back and I landed hard on the ground in a twisted heap. I open my eyes a bit, only to see smoke and flames everywhere. I felt my skin being burned. My whole body was sore especially my head. I couldn’t find the strength to get up. To run away.
It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Between gasps for air, I felt myself start to fade. My vision was getting blurry. The noise got quieter.
Then everything; the pain, the heat, the shouts, disappeared.
(By the way, I realize that it should've been Marcus's chapter, but I've had this thing with Lyra planned for a while and couldn't think of anything interesting from Marcus's point of view. ♥Skittlez)
