Ruin - By N.M. Martinez Page 0,13

then a second one as I fight for air to breathe. I shut my eyes, still gasping, shaking with tears, crying over a boy when I don't even know where my mother is. I still hold hope for her. I want to believe that she's out there somewhere and we can find her. But in Rob's case I know that's over. I'll never see him again. He'll sit in class and stare at the empty seat until the teacher calls someone from the back to take my spot. Then I'll just become like any other person in our life that's disappeared. I'll just be a memory in the back of his mind-- a what if and a wonder.

The shared moment of that memory is as clear and pure as if it had just happened the day before. But even that memory is tainted ever so slightly.

There was the knock on the window that broke us apart. We were both embarrassed, out of breath and red faced, burning up from the sudden rush of blood against our skin trapped by our coats. A man dressed in the formal uniform of the Security Force stood waiting, his jaw square and taut, and his shoulders round and broad. Rob rolled down the window and explained to him about the truck stopping, how we were from out of town and didn't know which way to walk.

The Security Force guy had on shades similar to the one worn by the special ops that would later steal me away from my mother. They hid his eyes and reflected our own faces back at us. He frowned at the two of us in a way that made me wonder if he'd ever been young and just discovering how much he really liked someone. He stepped away to call us a tow truck with a stern warning that he'd be back.

Rob watched him walk away before putting his arm around me again and whispering in my ear, "See? I told you it would get us noticed."

The weight from a large hand on my foot makes me jump. The room is dark again and I can't see who's touching me right away. I almost kick him until he speaks.

"Hey, it's me. Don't kick." Brandon's hand is still on my leg, holding it down now instead of just lightly touching it. "I made some dinner."

I nod before realizing that it's probably too dark for him to see me unless seeing in the dark is his power. "Crap. I fell asleep again."

Brandon chuckles. I sit up and he reaches out for me, the hand that had been on my foot taking hold of my arm lightly. "Sorry, I forget you don't like the dark."

The oil lamp is on in the main room, but it only casts a weak light. Brandon picks it up and puts it down on the table as we both have a seat.

Dinner seems to be canned meat, canned veggies, and some sort of grain. I'd laugh if it wasn't another painful memory to shove away and hide from.

Brandon digs in hungrily. His hair is wet from a recent shower, and his clothes have changed from earlier. Now he wears a tank top, his arms showing from the shoulders down. There aren't many scars on his arm like there were on Grey Eyes though there are a few. His arms are thick and muscular. It makes me nervous. I'm not quite sure what they plan to do with me, and so far I've slept away the day. That doesn't exactly make me stand out in a good way.

He glances up at me then down at my plate. "You're not used to canned food?" The acknowledgment brings back the memory I'd tried to shove away. Brandon's mouth turns down ever so slightly as if he can read my pain on my face, and he probably can. I've never been very good at hiding things like that.

"Another memory."

Brandon's mouth falls open partially as if he wants to say something, but then he closes it right away. Maybe he wants to tell me to get over it and deal, but then he realized that it's only my second day. Or maybe he just doesn't know what to say.

I hate being the cause of the silence, but I don't know what to say either so I dig into my own food. The flavors are all familiar though the seasoning's different. It reminds me of those times when Mom would go to her