Ruin - By N.M. Martinez Page 0,20

them fidget, rubbing at their arms as if to press down the goose bumps or stop the chills. A few step back while keeping their eyes on the scene before them. The man in front, the attacker, is someone even they fear.

The attacker kneels down and lifts the hand with the knife to the man's throat. My stomach curdles, and I turn away with a gag and a cough, the image burned into my mind. I know what's happening even if I turned away instinctively, unable to watch.

My one hand is wrapped tightly to the railing. When my eyes open again, I see the attacker finish wiping his blade on the bottom of the man's shirt just before he stands and looks right up at me. I gasp and step away from the rail, those gray eyes, cold and merciless, float to the surface of my memories.

It's Gray Eyes. Even from three stories up, I know it's him. I step back further and bump right into someone behind me.

I hop forward, but an arm reaches out, gently turning me around. Brandon searches my face as he pulls me near. "It's okay." He repeats it twice before my muscles relax enough that he can wrap his arms around me and pull me against his chest.

That breaks me. I slide my hands up to cover my eyes just as the tears start pouring down my fingers. My mouth opens to fight for air, but it only makes the sobs sound louder. Brandon gently pushes me into the apartment, and I go, trying to wipe the fat droplets from my cheeks with my bare hands.

Inside the apartment, the sobs stop, but the tears still flow. I step over to the kitchen sink to pour cool water over my hands and splash my eyes. Brandon stands behind me, a hand on his hip, another on the back of his neck as if he were trying to come up with something to say though there isn't really anything that can be said.

"I'm sorry." Brandon doesn't make a move towards me, but he stands in that space between the kitchen and the living room. I'm essentially blocked in the small space of the kitchen. "I didn't know that today was--"

He stops and I turn around to look at him. "Today was what?"

Brandon sighs. "I didn't know he was doing that today."

I don't know what I expect from Brandon. It wasn't as if he were the one down there. But he knew that would happen. He just didn't expect it was going to happen today. I'm at a loss for words in my disappointment.

Brandon looks at me, the muscles over his brow slightly tensed. “Paula, I don't know what to tell you. We protect the border from the Lost Territory. We also protect the village and all the people in it. There isn't room for disobedience."

At the mention of the Lost Territory, my breath becomes shallow. As bad as this place is, there are places that are worse. Lost Landers are so savage and far from human that they eat each other. There is no safe place left for me. This is it.

My gut tightens. "Or else that?"

He doesn't say anything. His mouth is a hard line reminiscent of the Special Ops soldiers I saw when this entire nightmare began.

I step back from him and brush against the sink. "Or else you just kill them out in the open, in broad daylight, in front of everyone?"

There's a silence that passes swiftly before he quietly says, "I know we seem harsh, but we have to be."

They hate us. Wildlanders blame the Neutrals for what was done in the past, and if this is what they do to their own people what will they do to someone like me? My own father doesn't even know what he wants to do with me. "But that's-- that's so savage. Isn't there a better way?"

"Like banishing them and letting someone else do the dirty work?"

That does it. He still blocks the way, but I try to walk past him and out of the enclosed space of the kitchen by bringing my arms up and pushing. Brandon grabs me, each of his hands wrapping almost all the way around my forearms. I shove with all my weight, but he doesn't budge. I try to rip my hands away, but he doesn't let go. The fingers wrapped around me are like enclosed wire and impossible for me to pull off.

As I struggle with him,