THIRTY-ONE
I decide to take a bath.
I’ve never taken a bath before.
I poke around the bathroom as the tub fills with hot water, and discover stacks and stacks of scented soaps. All different kinds. All different sizes. Each bar of soap has been wrapped in a thick piece of parchment, and tied with twine. There are small labels affixed to each package to distinguish one scent from another.
I pick up one of the bundles.
HONEYSUCKLE
I clutch the soap and can’t help but think how different it was to take a shower at Omega Point. We had nothing so fancy as this. Our soaps were harsh and smelled strange and were fairly ineffective. Kenji used to bring them into our training sessions and break off pieces to pelt at me when I wasn’t focusing.
The memory makes me inexplicably emotional.
My heart swells as I remember that my friends will be here tomorrow. This is really going to happen, I think. We’ll be unstoppable, all of us together. I can’t wait.
I look more closely at the label.
Top notes of jasmine and nuances of grape. Mild notes of lilac, honeysuckle, rose, and cinnamon. Orange-flower and powder base notes complete the fragrance.
Sounds amazing.
I steal one of Warner’s soaps.
I’m freshly scrubbed and wearing a clean set of clothes.
I keep sniffing my skin, pleasantly surprised by how nice it is to smell like a flower. I’ve never smelled like anything before. I keep running my fingers down my arms, wondering at how much of a difference a good bar of soap can make. I’ve never felt so clean in my life. I didn’t realize soap could lather like that or react so well to my body. The only soap I’ve ever used before always dried up my skin and left me feeling uncomfortable for a few hours. But this is weird. Wonderful. I feel soft and smooth and so refreshed.
I also have absolutely nothing to do.
I sit down on Warner’s bed, pull my feet up underneath me. Stare at his office door.
I’m so tempted to see if the door is unlocked.
My conscience, however, overrules me.
I sink into the pillows with a sigh. Kick up the blankets and snuggle beneath them.
Close my eyes.
My mind is instantly flooded with images of Adam’s angry face, his shaking fists, his hurtful words. I try to push the memories away and I can’t.
My eyes fly open.
I wonder if I’ll ever see him and James again.
Maybe this is what Adam wanted. He can go back to his life with his little brother now. He won’t have to worry about sharing his rations with eight other people and he’ll be able to survive much longer this way.
But then what? I can’t help but think.
He’ll be all alone. With no food. No friends. No income.
It breaks my heart to imagine it. To think of him struggling to find a way to live, to provide for his brother. Because even though Adam seems to hate me now, I don’t think I could ever reciprocate those feelings.
I don’t even know that I understand what just happened between us.
It seems impossible that Adam and I could fissure and break apart so abruptly. I care so deeply for him. He was there for me when no one else was; he gave me hope when I needed it most; he loved me when no one else would. He’s not anyone I want to erase from my life.
I want him around. I want my friend back.
But I’m realizing now that Kenji was right.
Adam was the first and only person who’d ever shown me compassion. The first, and, at the time, only person who was able to touch me. I was caught up in the impossibility of it, so convinced fate had brought us together. His tattoo was a perfect snapshot of my dreams.
I thought it was about us. About my escape. About our happily-ever-after.
And it was.
And it wasn’t.
I want to laugh at my own blindness.
It linked us, I realize. That tattoo. It did bring me and Adam together, but not because we were destined for one another. Not because he was my flight to freedom. But because we have one major connection between the two of us. One kind of hope neither one of us was able to see.
Warner.
A white bird with streaks of gold like a crown atop its head.
A fair-skinned boy with gold hair, the leader of Sector 45.
It was always him. All along.
The link.
Warner, Adam’s brother, my captor and now comrade. He inadvertently brought me and Adam together. And being with Adam gave me a new kind of strength. I was still scared and still very broken and Adam cared for me, giving me a reason to stand up for myself when I was too weak to realize I had always been reason enough. It was affection and a desperate desire for physical connection. Two things I’d been so deprived of, and so wholly unfamiliar with. I had nothing to compare these new experiences to.
Of course I thought I was in love.
But while I don’t know much, I do know that if Adam really loved me, he wouldn’t have treated me the way he did today. He wouldn’t prefer that I was dead.
I know this, because I’ve seen proof of his opposite.
Because I was dying.
And Warner could’ve let me die. He was angry and hurt and had every reason to be bitter. I’d just ripped his heart out; I’d let him believe something would come of our relationship. I let him confess the depth of his feelings to me; I let him touch me in ways even Adam hadn’t. I didn’t ask him to stop.
Every inch of me was saying yes.
And then I took it all back. Because I was scared, and confused, and conflicted. Because of Adam.
Warner told me he loved me, and in return I insulted him and lied to him and yelled at him and pushed him away. And when he had the chance to stand back and watch me die, he didn’t.
He found a way to save my life.
With no demands. No expectations. Believing full well that I was in love with someone else, and that saving my life meant making me whole again only to give me back to another guy.
And right now, I can’t say I know what Adam would do if I were dying in front of him. I’m not sure if he would save my life. And that uncertainty alone makes me certain that something wasn’t right between us. Something wasn’t real.
Maybe we both fell in love with the illusion of something more.