CHAPTER TWO
Piercing rays of sun darted through the window’s flimsy cream curtains. Amelia opened her heavy eyes in the silence. Groggy from lack of sleep, she reluctantly dragged her body out of the bed, almost falling to the floor. Instead, she caught herself and flopped back down on the bed, lying crosswise, her arms and head hanging over the edge. She had spent most of the night tormenting herself with the previous day’s incident, wondering what would happen to her father. She knew what she had to do. Thinking of her course of action made her feel nauseated, and the muscles at the back of her neck ached. Suddenly, the door was flung open. A barefoot figure walked carefully across the wooden flooring. Unable to lift her head, she stared at the intruder’s long, pale feet. Daniel.
“Why are you here?” she mumbled. Her head throbbed.
“You have to find him,” Daniel said.
He sat on the floor inches away from her bed. “Find who?” groaned Amelia as she tumbled out of the bed onto the floor. She let out a soft cry; her bones seemed to be threatening to break.
“Dad, who else?”
“How do you know they haven’t killed him already?”
“He’s more valuable to them alive. They won’t kill him, not so soon,” Daniel said. He stood up slowly, walked towards the window, pulled the curtain aside, and stared at the crowd. “He was part of a revolutionary movement over fifteen years ago. They gave society hope until they made a mistake,” he said. His voice was so low and soft, she could barely hear him.
Amelia looked at him for a long time. Her brother hadn’t simply grown taller; he had matured. She hadn’t noticed the change before.
“How do you know this?” Amelia asked.
“I found a small box with papers from his friends and I asked about it. He didn’t tell me willingly.” Daniel traced his long, bony fingers along the windowsill, and his eyes narrowed as he became pensive. He opened his mouth as though to speak, then closed it. He turned on his heel and stared at his sister, who lay sprawled on the floor. He wondered if she had what it would take to avenge his father’s capture. She was spontaneous, as evidenced by her fighting when they practised; however, her emotions and anger always got the better of her. Daniel was sixteen months younger than his sister, but he acted more mature. He was selfless at the worst of times and compassionate at the best of times. He would be the one to stay behind, to look after his mother if his sister did not return.
“What was the mistake?” Amelia blurted out. It took a while for Daniel to understand her question.
“He wanted to be normal, and with that, came the consequence of existing outside the shadows. They were seen in the light, as nothing more than mortals,” Daniel whispered. The words fell out of his mouth but sounded foreign, as though he had memorised and practised the sentence without understanding it. Daniel was more of a bookworm than his sister, and had he been born in a different era, in different circumstances, he could have made a life for himself as a writer.
“So how come it took so long for them to be found?”
“They faked their deaths…” He paused, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and turned to face Amelia. The glint of tears swelled in his eyes. She’d never seen her brother cry except as the result of an injury. She contemplated comforting him, but the tears were enough embarrassment for him. “Dad wanted to live a normal life. He didn’t want to fake his own death… He did it for us, so we could have a normal life.”
“Normal, eh?” she said as she rolled her eyes.
“This is as normal as it will ever get for us.”
“Where do I go?”
“Area Seven. There is a man known as The Hawk.”
“And how do you suggest I find this Hawk?” Amelia asked. She straightened herself and rested her back against the wooden bedframe. Her back ached for reasons unknown to her.
“He’s known in the fighting community. Dad would kill me for sending you—if he were here—so come back alive.” With that, he stood and started to towards the door, but Amelia grabbed his ankle and looked up at him with eyes full of fear and confusion.
“Wait. I’m not ready for this,” Amelia said. She had initially thought her brother was joking, toying with her, but the grave look on his face told her otherwise. She wasn’t ready. She wanted her father back just as much as Daniel, but she was afraid of failing. The thought of failing was more painful than the thought of death. She couldn’t be the one to let her family down.
“If you can’t go, then stay.” His words stung. Pain soon followed, and her trembling hands were cold at the fingertips. Her heart throbbed and her tender shoulders tensed. She buried her face in her quivering hands, confused.
“I guess you haven’t realised it, but we are being watched and followed. Make sure no one follows you,” Daniel whispered. Amelia had sensed it before, but her brother’s words confirmed her suspicions. Suddenly, she shuffled in her spot on the floor, her eyes darting nervously.
Daniel hurried out of the door before she had a chance to say anything.
For hours, she lay in the same spot, blank and fearful. The idea of failing consumed her, tormented her. She didn’t realise until her mother walked in that she was quivering and her limbs had become fixed in one position. “Let’s have some food,” Teresa said. Her voice was soft, and although Amelia couldn’t see her face, she knew her mother had that same expression, full of compassion and sadness.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re going to wither away. Please,” Teresa insisted. Amelia pressed her hands on the floor and used the weight in her arms to leverage herself to standing. Her body ached. She was coming down with something. Her mother stepped towards her. She felt strong hands grasp her under the arms. “Porridge, lots of it,” Teresa said through gleaming teeth. Her jet-black hair was brushed back and tied into a bun. The bun was once neat, but now, after her restlessness, strands of hair hung loosely around her face. Her lips were prominent against her high cheekbones and her thin, dark eyebrows framed her small, dark eyes. Against the streaks of light she looked delicate and beautiful, as though she had been carved with great precision. Unlike her mother’s, Amelia’s features—though beautiful and subtle—were masked by the unruly brown curls that always hung loosely on her shoulders.
Teresa helped her daughter to the bathroom, Amelia’s weight pressing painfully against her shoulder. When had her daughter become so heavy? Teresa didn’t flinch as she carried Amelia, even though the pain was becoming excruciating. Teresa persevered through gritted teeth and deep breathing. Amelia grabbed the bathroom door handle and dragged herself in. She collapsed on the toilet seat, fully clothed, and prayed the pain would cease. Every couple of years she would find herself suddenly crippled by flu-like symptoms, and for days she would wish death upon herself in an attempt to run away from it. Though the treatment for her illness was not expensive in the grand scheme of things, she knew money was scarce. The tears suddenly swelled in her eyes and stung as she bit her thin bottom lip.
She let out a small groan. Life couldn’t possibly get any worse. She stretched a shaking hand into the air, as though admiring its frailness. It quivered in the air. She drooped back against the toilet seat and let the tears flow carelessly.
“Amelia, are you alright?” asked Teresa, her soft voice cracking through Amelia’s drifting thoughts. The girl raised her head and glanced around the empty bathroom.
“Coming.”
Amelia sat at the wooden dining table as she ate the hot porridge her mother had prepared. They couldn’t afford anything more sumptuous.
“You look terrible,” Daniel said. He hadn’t noticed earlier when he had gone into her room, but now her unruly hair was not the only thing out of place. Her skin was pale and dark circles were visible around her hazel eyes. Her cracked thin lips curled down. Daniel’s face was sad and full of brotherly concern and remorse as he said, “I’m sorry for being short with you earlier.”
Amelia gulped the food, the warm porridge giving h
er a false boost of energy. She glanced up for a moment and smiled at her brother. He had a rectangular face with a defined, sturdy jawline. His small grey eyes were spaced evenly and sat below brown eyebrows. His thin lips remained closed as he stared back at her smile. He reminded her so much of her father; simply looking at him made the tears swell in her eyes. She quickly glanced away and focused on her bowl.
The three of them sat in silence, eating their breakfast with concentration. Daniel was the first to stand up, his tall, slender body towering over his mother’s petite frame. He placed a steady hand on her shoulder and then walked towards the small kitchen adjacent to the dining room to wash his bowl. The porcelain sink had become worn out from excessive scrubbing; his mother found great delight in scrubbing everything to the bone. He turned around to say something to her about it to make her smile, but the words refused to come out. Shamefully, he turned his back to her and continued to wash.
Defiance Page 2