Ruin - By N.M. Martinez Page 0,9

is cold and unfamiliar. A light musky scent tickles my nose through the clean pillow case.

Wildlanders are savages. Since the Revolution, they've had to live that way. They fight to survive. I wasn't expecting to see an apartment with furniture and a bed.

People are talking and laughing in the alley behind the building. I don't dare look. What little I've seen has been enough. I didn't know what to expect. In school, they don't prepare you for banishment. A good Neutral wouldn't be banished.

My hair falls over my nose and mouth and I don't move it. I focus my attention on the strands as my inhaled breaths pull them against my lips only to push them away again when I exhale. It works well for a short while, but soon I find myself laying still, staring at the wall, curling even tighter into a ball.

Who are these people and why am I here? The thought circles through like a whirlwind and in the eye of the storm are quiet thoughts of my mother that I try to ignore. But they sit in the center, a weight on my heart that squeezes my chest anytime I look too closely at them. There is nothing I can do for her and it hurts to realize it.

I lie on my side on the bed with a hand on my chest. Once the pain begins I lean forward, pressing my fist against the bone protecting my heart and crushing the skin against my knuckle. The physical pain is a focus I can handle. Tears spring to my eyes because of the sharp pain from my knuckles and nothing else. Those tears are easier to ignore. Easier to focus on the pain on my skin than the deeper pain with in.

I'm that way for a while. My body trying to release the tears and my fighting it with every breath. It works for a while. Helps me forget where I am and the fact that a stranger sits in another room waiting for me to fall asleep. Helps me forget my mother and the fact that I once thought I was safe, that there is nowhere safe in this entire world.

I jump up, the bed squeaking under me when I wake. The darkness of the room presses down on me like the Special Ops soldiers did when they were herding me and my mother out to their dark vans parked on the front lawn. My first instinct is to find light, but I pause, stuck in the darkness and scared to find the light.

Frozen there on the bed, I can see a bit of light seeping into the room from under the door. It becomes brighter as the light source moves closer with a soft sound of shoes on a carpeted floor.

There's a knock, and Brandon's voice, strong and so unfamiliar, jerks me out of my stupor. "Are you okay? Can I come in?"

That he asks throws me. It isn't like I have a choice. This is his apartment and his room.

"Yes." My voice shakes.

Brandon opens the door slowly letting the light lead him into the room. I sit up and grab my glasses from the side table, wanting to be prepared even though I don't know what I need to be prepared for. There's no smile on his face as he steps over to me and puts the lamp down on the table. "You're scared of the dark."

He doesn't ask. I glance up at him and nod without bothering to offer an explanation. There really isn't any.

Brandon isn't a tall man but I have to glance up at him from my spot on the bed. He's also not a small skinny man. His body is thick, but not fat. "Mind if I sit down?"

I lift my feet up to make room for him as my heart thuds hard against my skin. He takes a seat and the mattress dips towards him. I have to put a tiny bit of weight on my toes to stop myself from sliding closer to him.

“Mr. Smith stopped by earlier, but we thought it would be best if we didn't wake you.” He pauses when he notes the blank look on my face. "That was the older one on the car ride with you. He never even introduced himself, did he?" I shake my head as he sighs and scratches at the back of his neck with a hand. "Figures. Well, there's some things you should probably know, and