WARNING: early, super long chapter ahead :)

22.

Elias and I don't speak the entire way to the village. The night speaks for us—distant howls, bird calls, cicada's—but no sounds of the hollowers. There's so much to say and nothing to say at the same time. An image plays in my mind of that human boy in the grasps of the hollowers, his eyes open but mind not really there. His screams echo in my head. We left him there all alone to die. Part of me wants to turn around and grab his body, bring him with us, give him a proper burial. But we both continue on wordlessly. And despite the horror, there's a comfort in the silence between us, a gentle reminder that no matter how horrifying that was to witness, I'm not alone.

The fog has only gotten worse. I can barely see a few feet ahead, having to keep a close eye on Elias so I don't smash into a tree. We're moving fast, halfway between a walk and a jog. Humidity hangs in the air and sweat beads at the back of my neck. My muscles burn, but I don't stop; we can't afford to stop.

We walk for a couple of hours before the trees start to thin and the surroundings become more familiar. My stomach twists in knots; we're close. The area becomes less densely packed, evidence of our last time here shows in the stumps of trees, once black and charred and burnt to a crisp. Evidence of the fire has been washed away, now it just looks like an explosion went off and left stumps and dead grass. I take a shaky breath as Elias slows at the edge of the trees, turning to look at me over his shoulder. His golden eyes pierce through the fog.

"We're here."

I step forward so I'm standing next to him. Fog hangs in the clearing, but the absence of the trees means it's lighter. Still, I can't make anything out and it would be a lie to say that I'm not glad.

"Where are the others?"

He pauses, narrowing his eyes at the fog, before nodding forwards. "Come on. I can hear them in the tunnels."

I shove down the protests in my throat and follow him through the fog. The earth we walk upon, once grass, is littered with broken pieces of wood and debris. Without the protection of the trees, I feel exposed. A hollower could attack from any direction and I wouldn't see them coming. But Elias' confidence somewhat eases my anxieties. If there was anything dangerous close to us, he would know.

My memory fills in the blanks for what my eyes can't make out. We pass the old tomato patch, trampled and destroyed, and I know the kitchen shack is only 20 few feet to the right. The earth transitions from dead grass to dirt and I know the entrance to the tunnels is only seconds away. We trek through the stream and I can hear Flo's laughter swirling in the air, her high-pitched screams as Darius splashes her. I shove the memory away, but her voice is there, all the same, a haunting melody in the thick fog.

Ahead, the fog makes way for the tunnel entrance, a dark hole leading into the ground. The cold doors slid to the side, the ominous opening—though everything else has changed here, the entrance remains the same. My heart hammers as Elias steps toward it. Should we really be going down there when there's only one way out and the hollowers are on our tail? That didn't go so well last time.

"Elias?" He pauses to look at me over his shoulder. "How far away are the hollowers from catching up?"

"They won't be here any time soon." I take a shaky breath and step forward, into the tunnel entrance. "Milena." I turn my head to look at him. He raises a hand as if to touch my shoulder but then thinks better of it. "We'll be long gone by the time they get here. They're not going to get to you. I promise."

It's not me I'm afraid of them getting.

I just grit my teeth and nod, turning around and walking into the tunnel. Elias follows me silently, his presence warm in the icy underground. It's pitched black, but I know these halls like the back of my hand. Voices, low and hushed, carry towards us from the social room. I press on, ignoring the crushing pressure on my chest. Stepping into these tunnels feels like stepping into the past. So many of my memories took place down here, good and bad, but they're all overpowered by one—the last time I was here, we lost Elias. The last time I was here, I killed Charles, on purpose. Stepping into these tunnels is like stepping into a nightmare.

An old lantern has been lit in the social room, the fire dancing along the walls and casting ominous shadows. Eric and Malik stand by the table, hunched over a pile of sticks and stacks of torn paper. Cassia sits cross-legged on the floor tearing pages from the old recipe books Flo used to read out to me. They all look up at Elias and me and drop what they're doing.

"Everything okay?" Eric asks.

Elias nods. "They're still tracking us. They figured out a while back that we were heading here."

"Why'd they stop?" Malik asks.

Crimson red flickers against my eyelids, pale skin, limp limbs.

"To feed," Elias says.

Cassia sucks in a breath, her eyes on me. I keep my chin high and clench my teeth, wishing the screams in my head would subside. "What're you doing?" I ask.

They all snap back into action, tearing more pages. "Malik suggested that we trap them down here when they arrive," Eric says, somewhat reluctantly. "It was actually a good idea, surprisingly."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

"We'll wait for them to get down here then lock them in," Cassia says.

"Here?" I say. "We have to wait here? That wasn't the plan. We were supposed to be gone before they got here."

"We've got to lure them down here without actually being down here," Malik explains, "so we'll light this place on fire when they're close. They'll see the light and hopefully check it out. Then we can jam them in."

"They're immortal," I say. "There's no point."

"It won't kill them but it will stall them," Eric says, looking to Elias. "And we need all the time we can get."

We all stand in silence, awaiting Elias' answer when we all know what it will be. It doesn't matter how much it terrifies me, the idea is good and they're right, if we can do something to stop them from coming after Elias' village so soon, we have to do it. But that doesn't mean the idea doesn't send fear straight down my spine.

"Okay," Elias says eventually, looking at me. "We'll wait here."

Cassia chucks him a book. "Here, start tearing this." She offers one to me.

"Actually, I'll be right back."

They all pause to look at me. "Where are you going?" Malik asks.

"Just down the hall," I say. "There are more books in some of the rooms."

I don't wait around for approval. Nobody tries to stop me anyway, not even as I swipe the lantern off the table and take it with me. They all have enhanced night vision; it's not like they need it. Their voices resume, a low murmur behind me as I carry on, deeper into the tunnel and past the washing rooms until I can't hear them anymore. The air is warm, but there's ice in the ground that travels straight through my feet up to my chest. Shadows wrap around corners, dancing along the walls as I pass Cynthia and Darius' old quarters.

I close my eyes for a moment. I have each corner committed to memory, each rise in the stones, each low hanging pipe. If everything goes according to plan, in a few hours, this place will be nothing but a cloud of smoke. I don't know how that makes me feel.

In the distance, a methodical dripping of water echoes through the tunnel. It takes me only a minute longer to reach the entrance to my old quarters. The same sheet hangs across the doorway, the corners dirtied with age. I take a deep breath and step through.

The last time I was in this room, I was getting ready for my first hunt. I didn't know it would be the last time I'd sleep in this bed, the last time I'd fully trust anyone, the last time everything was seemingly normal. And despite all that has changed inside of me, my tiny, square bedroom remains the same.

The lumpy bed is shoved in the corner, the scratchy blanket haphazardly thrown over the end. By the pillow is a pair of long, blue pants. My pants. Exactly where I'd left them when I got changed that morning. The room is completely untouched save for the flimsy sheet of paper on the bed. I frown, moving closer to pick it up.

The corner has been torn off and the once red and green pencil marks are nearly completely faded. Two stick figures stand side by side, holding hands with identical, comical toothy grins. My eyes prickle. Father and daughter. Guardian and child. Charles and Milena. I was 7 when I drew it. Why is it in here? Was Charles looking for it? My heart skips a beat at the thought before the hope turns to fury.

When I gave Charles this drawing, he'd been furious, tearing all my other drawings off his wall and sending me to my own quarters with a vow that I'd never draw us together again. I hate him. Without thinking, I tear the drawing down the middle. But it isn't enough. I hate him. I tear it again, and again, until all that's left are hundreds of small pieces of paper scattered across the floor. And as I stare at the pieces around me, fragments of the life I used to have, the regret sinks in, and my stomach rocks with nausea.

This man ruined my life and yet I love him anyway. Even though he's dead, his hold on me is just as strong as it was when I was 7 years old crying in this room.

~

I don't go back to the social room and nobody comes to look for me. Hours could have passed and I wouldn't know. The rage that led me to tear up that drawing has dissipated, overtaken by regret. I sit on my old lumpy bed with my knees pulled to my chest as I eye the wooden headboard, running my fingers along the tiny letters etched deep into the wood. F + M.

Flo and I made the marks when we were kids with a butter knife she stole from the kitchen shack. We were terrified we'd get in trouble, strategically placing my pillow over the marks whenever we left the room. In reality, the letters are so small and crooked you'd only notice them if you got a foot away and narrowed your eyes. But still, it was our secret, something to giggle about in the corner of the room when everyone was eating. I wish I could take it with me, but the bed is unmoveable, not that we'd be able to take the entire bed, anyway.

I sigh, dropping my hand and turning to look at the ceiling. In my peripheral vision, the sheet in the doorway moves. I nearly jump three feet in the air when I notice Elias standing there, his eyes on me.

"You scared me," I breathe, trying to calm my heart.

"Sorry," he says, stepping further into the room, eyes roaming around. "Is this your old room?"

I nod, not bothering to get up. "Nothing like the lavish room you live in, I know." He grimaces. "I didn't mean—"

"I know."

Neither of us speaks but we're both thinking the same thing. If Ana hadn't meddled, this would be exactly the kind of room Elias would have grown up in. Elias already blames himself for my upbringing, he certainly doesn't need a reminder.

"What's this?" He gestures to the torn pieces of paper on the ground.

"Oh... nothing." My cheeks warm. "Just an old drawing I did as a kid. I tore it up, I don't know why. It was stupid, really." He picks up a piece, one that still has a little colour on it. I shift uncomfortably. "How's the tearing of paper going?"

"You're not missing much. Eric and Malik are bickering like an old married couple over whether sticks are a better idea than paper."

I laugh. "While I feel for Malik, I'm also kind of glad I wasn't the only outsider Eric treated horribly."

Elias smiles, but it doesn't quite meet his eyes. "Are you okay with us destroying this place?"

I meet his gaze. "It's a good plan."

"That's not what I asked."

His question hangs in the air between us. These tunnels hold so many memories. I grew up here, every night was spent in this room. This is where Flo and I became friends, where I learnt how to cook, where Darius and I cleaned together. The good memories are forever tainted with betrayal and lies, but that doesn't mean I want to destroy them. Maybe it's foolish to feel so deeply connected with a place I was never truly welcome, but I can't help it.

"No," I say eventually. "I'm not okay with it. Maybe I should be. Maybe I should want this place to burn down into ash, but I don't, even if it is our only option, even if it's for the best." I pause, realising how selfish I sound. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"It makes you human."

"I can't tell if you mean that in a positive or negative way," I point out.

The ghost of a smile crosses his lips. "Milena, there isn't one bad bone in your body."

Warmth spreads from my chest to my fingertips, but it comes from his smile rather than his words. He may be able to read my emotions like a book but he can't read my mind. He doesn't hear the hate-filled thoughts that sometimes cross my mind, the selfish desires, he doesn't know that there's a part deep inside of me that just wants to run away with him, leave everyone else to clean up this mess. And maybe it's those things that make me human, too. The truth is, we're all bad in some ways. It simply isn't possible to be purely good, even if Elias' seems to come close.

He turns his back to me to look at the barren desk against the wall, pulling open the top drawer. I watch him as he rifles through the small stack of books, my only belongings. There's a spot-the-difference picture book and a bigger chapter book. I was never able to read it, but I liked to look at the words sometimes.

"Elias?" He looks at me over his shoulder, the children's book in his hand. "Do you think he had a family?"

"Who?"

"That boy, the one they hollowed." I swallow. "I just... I can't stop thinking about him, about what we saw. Do you think his family is looking for him?"

I don't know what I expect to hear. It's not like Elias has any more of an idea who that boy was than I do, but I can't keep myself from asking, from seeking comfort even when I know there is none.

"He died peacefully," is all he says.

"He must've endured so much pain."

"The pain isn't always the worst part," he says. "When they hollow you, they feed on your worst memories, your strongest emotions, your biggest fears. You live through each one as they do. You live through each one and you have no idea that what you're seeing isn't real."

I shiver, thinking of the boy's screams. "Is that supposed to be comforting?"

"It's the truth."

We fall into silence. My eyes drift back to the carvings on the bed frame, tracing the letters and thinking of Flo. We're not far from where I left her body. I wonder if one of the hollowers took it, if her family found her, or if she was left there till vines crawled over her skin and she became part of the earth, just as that boy's body will. The thought sickens me. How could I have left Flo there like that?

"They did that to me, too."

I look back to Elias but he isn't looking at me. His eyes look far away, somewhere in the past. "What?"

"The hollowers."

"They... they hollowed you?"

He leans against the wall. The room is small but he feels worlds away, lost somewhere in a painful memory. "Cynthia drained me of blood, but that wasn't the worst part. The others would come in and drain me of life. They'd hollow me, mostly ones who hadn't been given the serum yet, and even some of the ones that had."

My heart clenches in my chest. He'd looked dead when we found him, and those words he said on the hill, half unconscious. Just let me die.

"If they were already immortal, why did they do that?"

"Same reason those hollowers in the woods hollowed that boy. It feels good to them, like a high."

My stomach swirls with nausea. I don't know what to say, words can never make up for what he went through. Elias endured that for three months, and it would've been longer if we hadn't found him. 

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he says quietly, eyes on my arm. "I don't think I've said that yet."

"You don't have to apologise—"

"I do." His eyes fill with intensity. "Don't fight me on this."

I bite the inside of my cheek, tugging on my sleeve to cover the bandage. "Trying to leave me behind hurt more than any physical wound ever could."

"I know."

"Do you know how it would've felt to wake up there all alone?" I ask. "To have no idea where you were or how to get back?" He stares at me blankly. "Why would you want to do that to me? Did you want to hurt me?"

"No." His eyes flash with hurt. "Of course not. But I would do it again. If I could send you back right now, I would."

I flinch backwards. "Why would you say that?"

"I promised I'd never lie to you."

"Sometimes I wish you would."

I draw away from him, holding myself together and pressing my back against the wall. His gaze burns the side of my face, but I keep my gaze directed on the sheet. If I look at him, I'm afraid I might start to cry.

"I couldn't live with myself if something happened. If I... killed you. And honestly, Milena, you don't understand how close I was last time."

"So you'll take away my choice? Try to make me hate you?"

"I could live with you hating me, maybe all this would be easier if you did hate me."

I wish I could hate him; I have every reason to. I wish I could steady my hammering heart; I wish I could blame him for Ana's actions. But no matter how hard I try, I can't. Because at the end of everything, Elias seems like one of the only truly good things left in this world. He's good to a fault, and I'm drawn to him like a moth to a flame. I never could hate him, no matter what. We're tied together, by fate, by trauma, I don't know what, but we are.

Before I can say something else, someone clears their throat. We both look towards the doorway to see Malik lingering in the archway.

"Uh, I just came to say we're ready," he says. His eyes dart between the two of us. My cheeks warm. How long was he standing there and why didn't either of us notice?

I stand up. "We're leaving?"

"Cassia circled back and the hollowers are only a couple minutes away. We just need you to set the fires, Elias."

"Not until everyone is out of here," Elias says.

"Of course." Malik nods before looking at me. "We'll wait in the forest."

I step towards him, turning one last time in the doorway to survey the room. It'll be the last time I ever see it. The bed frame, the carving in the wood, the torn pieces of my drawing. Something inside of me feels like it's breaking.

"Milena." Malik gently probes my elbow. "We have to go."

I glance at Elias still standing in the middle of the room. He looks ridiculously large in the tiny box shape, but his eyes are warm. I wish they didn't make me feel warm, too.

"Let's go."

I turn around and follow Malik down the hall. 

~

DISCUSSION:

1. Do you think coming back to the village was a bad or good idea?

2. Are you surprised to find out that Elias was hollowed on while with the hollowers?

3. What do you think might happen next?