by Clara Wake
Why can’t his hair grow longer and faster on the right side? Why does it have to be the left?
“You look more fucking ugly than you already did,” Tyler laughs, watching Nickolai move downstairs to the bathroom.
Shaking his head, he ignores Tyler and moves down the stairs, uncertain on how the steam and hot water will feel on his face. He dares to step in. Either way, it has to be done, and there is nothing that can be done about it.
Removing the towel from around his waist, he steps into his stall and turns the water on, adjusting the temperature; it takes a few to set it right, before slowly drowning his hair in the water; carefully lifting his head to test the water. It stings rapidly as the water drops and drains down his face. He closes his eyes and takes every inch of it in and deals with it.
“Where were you last night, Jake?” Tyler soon comes in and approaches Jake; All Nickolai does is dart his eyes open and listen to the commotion outside, hidden behind the door of the stall.
“You told me to get out,” Jake bluntly states, shrugging his shoulder and sighing deeply. “What did you do?” He asks, attempting to sound like he doesn’t care, but the concern traces his tone until he clears his throat and starts again, regaining his stance.
“Oh yeah, well, we tattooed the freak’s fucking face. It was insane,” Tyler boasts loudly, grinning and showing whites. He’s proud and pleased with the squad’s efforts.
“Hmmph, that would have been fun,” he squeaks, trying his best to fit in with them. He knows he and Nickolai will be the end of the stake if his true emotions are exposed.
“Come on man, he deserves it,” Tyler cheers, laughing and fishing for a wider and wilder reaction from Jake, who blankly stares at him.
Jake nods in response, only to have Tyler grasp the collar of his shirt and pull him in.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Tyler snarls, nose to nose with Jake who swallows the truth and spreads the lie. “Nothing. I’m just pissed that I missed out,” he growls back, pushing Tyler back.
“Next time we fuck him up we’ll let you stay, just don’t go all medic boy on us,” he tells him, smacking his shoulder., while still holding the proud grin. Turning his back, he leaves without another word.
Nickolai is motionless and silent. He is bracing himself while the hostility spreads through the air, but he is lucky to let the breath out as Jake handled it.
“You wanted to join in, right? So here, you have the front row; you’re the star tonight,” Aiden whispers to Jake, as they stand there in Nickolai’s door frame watching him sleeping.
Their physiques cast nothing but a silhouette within the doorframe.
Jake attempts to speak louder, to wake Nickolai, but the more he does – the further they moved from Nickolai’s room, and he is unable to use that tactic to alert his sleeping friend. Either he is in a deeper sleep because of the trauma from the previous night, or for once he doesn’t hear them.
The boys are soon shoving him in the back, pushing him forwards. Jake tries his best to catch the weep that’s trembling inside his mouth. He’s petrified and doesn’t want to move. Yet, he knows he must move; he should listen and join in. But this? Wasn’t what he had in mind.
“What the fuck are you stalling for?” Aiden snarls at him, getting impatient and aggravated at Jake’s slow motions with added shoves and scoffs, forcing him to get moving.
The others soon start to cheer Jake on, for motivation; but it only makes his skin crawl. His heart sinks as he makes it back into Nickolai’s room, who is slowly waking up, dazed and confused as he hears the cheers.
“Fuck him up!”
Nickolai looks up, seeing the light in the hallway and the shadows that shroud the incoming intruder until he notices it’s Jake; his guard immediately dissolves as he moves and attempts to sit up. Instead of the usual greeting, he’s greeted with a swift fist to his cheek. It is quick, but it is light, very frail yet it still startles the tired elf.
Nickolai’s eyes are wide in shock. His breaths begin to shake as Jake towers over him. Hovering over him, Jake looks down at him, eyes glistened with tears – he’s completely torn and broken. His hands shake, and Nickolai realizes what is happening.
Wincing softly, he trails his eyes to see the others cheering Jake on. Nickolai’s throat tightens with each rasp of breath. “Do it,” Nickolai whispers up at Jake, eyes locking with his as he tries so desperately to hold in the sobs. “It’s okay, do it,” he murmurs at him, insisting it is okay and he knows why. Nickolai knows they won’t stop tormenting Jake until he does some damage and if he refuses, it’ll turn out even worse for him. Nickolai isn’t going to let that happen.
His heart breaks for him, to be forced into the situation but it has to be done, and he’d rather he did it than the others.
Seconds later, Jake’s trembling fist collides with Nickolai’s cheek once again and he yelps— not because it hurt – to paint the picture they are fishing for. They want Jake to cause harm, and his punches are too light and feeble to do so. He’s suffered so much worse, and he knows the second they realize bruises aren't surfacing his skin that Jake held back.
“Fucking sissy,” Nickolai barks, pushing Jake to hit harder. Trying to ignite a more aggressive stance, “You hit like a fucking girl!”
Nickolai growls at him, huffing loudly before another hit lands on his cheek, harder this time. It works, and this time his clout is harsh. Sparking a sting, with the punch. Nickolai nods at him to continue with that rhythm.
Jake grumbles as his lips begin to quiver, trying to bite back the tears as he holds Nickolai down with his palm over his chest and continues to pound his face and sides with his right fist.
Jake can no longer hold in tears, as they slipped from his blurred eyes. He can’t bear this, and he knows he can’t come back from this. He wants to help Nickolai, not be the reason he has fresh bruises.
Each blow becomes stronger, and Jake can feel the strain on his knuckles with each contact they had with Nickolai’s sides and face. The sounds of bone splitting bone and skin tearing have Jake struggling to breathe. When will they tell him to stop? He is begging for this to be over, as his clenched fist is spluttered in Nickolai’s blood. He made him bleed, and the second his eyes catch the trickling blood from his cheek, he freezes and shakes his head in pure remorse and disgust. His eyes are wide and glazed with tears, feeling the pull at his heartstrings, unable to let a single breath hitch from his lips.
“Get the fuck back to bed, boys,” the Captain demands loudly as his voice rings through the hall and shakes them from their skin.
A breath of pure relief escapes Jake’s lips, his eyes wide in shock. For the first time, the Captain saved the night. Did he know what was happening, or just notice them gathering around in the odd hours of the night. Boys in their preteens, who knew what they were up to. Either way, he can finally breathe as he moves off Nickolai and wipes his face before darting to his room with the rest of them.
Nickolai lets out a staggered breath, cautiously rubbing his cheek. He winces softly and remains awake for the remainder of the night, in case another attack is planned. This position and increased paranoia are something he does almost every night now. He is lucky if he gets any sleep most of the nights. Constantly on guard and alert. He soon fixes the habit of sleeping on his back, instead of his side. For once, he is grateful for being such a light sleeper He’s ready for an attack… Only tonight it was the worse attack imaginable, and he’ll never forget it.
CHAPTER 7
Withered, tormenting, challenging and traumatizing years pass. Eight to be precise.
Day in and out, dealing with constant pressure and abuse both physically and mentally. Training until their bodies can’t take any more for a cause they know nothing about. Still locked in the dark and blind of the motives behind the excessive and extreme measures drilled into their minds.
Now, young men of the other squads were found hanging in their own rooms, no note. Nothing. Others attempt to escap
e only to be shot on sight. Then there are others who take their razor blades to their throat or wrists. Anything to end the excruciating plague of torment they call their lives. They can’t live a life of despair and anguish, never knowing if there is something else out there. If there is no way out.
These young men and women are led to believe, there is nowhere else and no one else out there for them. They are alone, and this is their only sanctuary—where they call home.
Most deal with everything that is thrown at them, never questioning the Governor's motive. They obey the orders like drones, brainless, mechanical beings who listen and respond to any request or demand. If they received food, water, and shelter, even a bed. They don’t complain; As some shouldn’t, they could be worse off, dead even, but that option is a better one for some.
Eight years on, and Earth still treat Nickolai like the outcast. Even during life-threatening missions scoping restricted and dangerous grounds for equipment, they don’t bat an eyelash if it concerns his safety. Luckily for him, he doesn’t need their help.
Nickolai never relies on anyone but himself.
The once young, timid and broken half-elf is now a strong, determined, and treacherous young man. He stands tall, six feet and five inches, and his vibrant crimson hair is naturally spiked with the left side heavier than the right—a thick fringe that falls over the left side of his face, almost hiding his cyan shade eye. He speaks with a soft and soothing tone, yet it holds anger deep within. His ears are longer, almost the length of his hair. There’s no hiding them anymore. He is fit, athletic, and built. Agile and strong. He is the most defined out of his squad since the others became lazy and cheated their way out of training.
While he may be a very vigorous young man, he holds not a single inch or thread of trust towards anyone but Jake. Scars embed his entire body like a map from head to toe, reminding him of the past. – it was real – constantly retaining him on why he was there. Anger still resides so heavily inside of him, and questions scream in his mind, desperate for answers. He is curious, dead inquisitive when it comes to this place.
Nickolai isn’t subject to the brainwashing that goes on. He knows better. He knows there is something immoral going on in this place, behind closed doors. Behind the thick walls. Lies and tales spread across the field, and there is nothing he can do about it.
He can’t ask around; if he were to voice any objection or subject of inquisitiveness he’d be thrown into The Chamber and forgotten about. There is never a time or space to question their motive and role. Those who do are never heard from again, gone in the thick mist of the night, vanished.
This doesn’t stop Nickolai from pursuing a quest on his own. In the shadows, he silently digs for anything he can find, any form of proof to link them to something. Anything insidious.
He knows he’ll find something because unlike the majority – if not all of them – He knows something isn’t right. Even though he doesn’t know of a life outside of these walls, only what he saw on his first mission outside, he knows.
What he expects to find, he has no clue. That’s if he’d ever find anything.
He suffers from Jake’s constant and almost, overbearing concern, like parents of their firstborn. Jake constantly reminds him to be careful on his missions, to keep his head down. Of course, it is all out of respect for his friend. They literally grew up together and the more they got to know each other the more alike and stronger they became as a team against the world, you might say.
Nickolai is determined, fixated, and ardent to find out what secrets lay beneath the Compound. He has already conjured his plan and is soon to interrogate his first asset, hoping it’ll lead him somewhere. Until then, he has to sleep on it until the time was right.
The Governor looks at her men on this calm summer night. The Guards, The Elders, and other various members beneath her thumb sit around a very large table in a quiet room. The door is locked, and the windows are sealed. The light above is flickering and gives the atmosphere a dreadful sensation.
She stands tall watching them for a moment. Breathing softly, she runs her eyes over them once again before speaking, “You’re all probably wondering why I called you in tonight,” she breathes, her voice low and strict as usual.
“I thought it would be necessary to have a meeting, a discussion of what’s going on around here – details and even complaints if you see fit,” she continues, her eyes detailing them all, standing there. She has her own issues to speak about, but she wants to know if anyone else shares the same interest.
“So, please. Don’t be shy. Are there any issues anyone would like to address?” The Governor carefully draws out, irritated by the pure silence she’s given. “Speak up when you’re spoken to,” she hisses, now glaring at them all.
“Y-Yeah!” One of them pipes up, flailing his arm upwards and jumping up from his seat – sweat saturates his brow. His eyes are wide as he swallows hard and breathes in. “I have a problem with Earth.” He says before licking his lips and letting out a staggered breath.
“Go on,” the Governor insists, locking her eyes with his, arching her eyebrows in interest. She crosses her arms over her chest, and steps forwards to listens.
“Y-yeah. One of their squad members,” he stammers. “The elf,” he announces, and his words are greeted with a gasp and nod from the rest of the crew; he isn’t alone. It looks like almost everyone has an opinion about him.
“Mmm, yes. The elf. Looks like you’re not the only one. What are your concerns, about him?” She grunts, before placing her palms on her hips, she wasn’t alone.
“He’s filled with aggression, and he’s nosey,” the man shrugs, uncertain whether he should have said anything, but he receives more nods and hums from the rest of them; he must be right.
“Yeah, he climbs so high up on one of the trees that arches over the wall, he could easily climb over and run out of here,” one of the Guards speaks up, adding his own two cents.
“Yes, he let one of the girls have access to the boy's squads after she claimed she needed to gather their laundry,” one of the Elders announces with a low tone.
“He almost killed one of my boys,” one of the other squad captains reveals.
“Which squad is that?” The Governor asks, turning her head to look at him closely.
“Air,” he nods. “Almost killed one of my boys with his goddamn bow,” he continues and grumbles loudly, gritting his teeth and clenching his fist.
“Was he provoked?” The Governor questions. Air’s captain who curls his fingers and bites his bottom lip and looks down for a second. He can’t lie, not to her.
“My boy was abusing him verbally,” he mutters.
“He deserved it then,” she scoffs at him, before rolling her eyes and shaking her head. She does not care how the boys react, they can react however they wish with each other. However, they can never retaliate against her staff. “I’m appalled that he never steps foot in The Chamber,” she mentions, almost disappointed by this harrowing fact.
Silence is heard, and the room falls to sleep. Words are no longer exchanged, only nervous blinks and stares before the Governor finally tears the silence apart,
“Well,” the Governor sighs slowly, “He’s very skilled, one of our strongest men in years. I’ve never seen someone so agile and quick. He’s a very sharp and strong asset for us. Especially considering he has the highest kill count of two hundred. But…” she pauses there and slowly takes her seat at the end of the table and clears her throat.
“I’ve come to the realization that, he is in fact, My Star,” she tells them, before smacking her lips together, “and you all know how I treat, My Star. Right?” She jerks an eyebrow at them, tilting her head slowly to glare at them.
“No one can touch them, but you,” one of the Guards notes.
“That’s correct. Anything and everything to do with him goes directly to me, and I’ll handle it. Got it?” Her tone switches into a direct and very stern tone, as she makes hersel
f clear. “Should you feel the need to deal with him yourself, you will suffer the consequences. And I am not just talking about no pay for the week,” she underlines her statement and leans back to scan the quiet room.
“Erik,” the Governor starts, looking to one of the captains standing up.
“I want you to address this to Earth’s captain,” she insists, before nodding.
“End of discussion, you are all dismissed,” she informs them, watching them scatter towards the door, ready to leave with their tails between their legs. She adores how much they feared her. She can’t hide the smile that curves her lips, a menacing and pleased smile. She has plans.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Jake cheerfully greets Nickolai, who’s perched up on a small tree, watching everyone, like ants in a colony working for their queen. Truth be told, it is accurate.
Nickolai looks down to his friend, struggling to get up and he can’t help but let a small chuckle shake his lips, a gentle and forgiving smile pressed them. “I’ll come down,” he tells Jake before he leaps off the branch and lands on the leaves below kind of like a superhero landing if you will.
“Everything okay?” Nickolai questions Jake, as his left ear twitches slightly, sensing something either interesting or daunting is about to be thrown at him. Courtesy of the others, of course.
The more Nickolai observes Jake, he can see his cheeks flush brightly, and a smile paints his lips. He can’t help but squint at him, curiosity spreading through his face and twitching his ears slightly.
“Come on, out with it,” Nickolai starts to pry; did Jake forget how impatient Nickolai is? He pokes him in the shoulder and stands tall before him. “What are you smiling about?” He presses. Further, he can see Jake starting to giggle, he’s broken already. He would be terrible in a hostage or interrogation situation. Thank goodness, he’s the Medic.
“Okay, Okay!” He finally laughs. “I got you something,” he admits, looking up at him, eyes fixated on Nickolai’s odd-eyes before shifting to meet his ears, “I got you piercings for your ears,” Jake stops there and waits almost cringing for a reaction. He is petrified that Nickolai won’t like the gesture, so he quickly chimes in, “I mean, you hate your ears, so I thought… maybe if I pierced them, they’d look cooler?”