The Dark and Hollow Places - Carrie Ryan [64]
I wake up the next morning to my sister’s voice fluttering around my cracked door. I roll onto my side, gently prodding at my cheek with my fingers as I listen to her and Elias’s conversation drifting down the hallway.
“I wanted to build something, Elias,” I hear her say. “That’s what we were supposed to be doing. Together. We were supposed to stop barricading ourselves off.” There’s such loss and pain in her voice that I wince. It never occurred to me that my sister had dreams like this—the same kind of dreams I once had. I realize then just how little I know about her.
I’ve spent all this time comparing myself to her that I haven’t taken the time to try to see who she is as a person.
I hear a rustle of movement and imagine Elias walking over to her, wrapping her in his arms. “I know, Gabry,” he says softly, his words full of understanding and love.
There’s a pause before she continues. “Maybe we weren’t ever supposed to survive this long in the first place. Maybe we should just be content with what we’ve accomplished since the Return,” she says. But I can tell she’s just testing the words. She doesn’t really believe them. I smile a little—I know that tone well.
“Do you really believe that?” He sounds a little muffled, and I picture his lips pressed against her hair as he holds her tighter. I think about the way Catcher held me last night after I ran from the headquarters, how nice it was to sink into him and believe that his strength and promises could keep me safe.
I shake my head, hating how vulnerable the memory makes me feel.
“I don’t know,” my sister says, almost a whisper. “It’s just … What’s the point of having fought this long if it all comes down to this? To being trapped here waiting for the horde to find some way across the river? What if this is all there is?”
There’s a little more rustling and then Elias’s voice is clearer, as if he’s pulled away, as if he’s looking at my sister’s face. I imagine him resting a thumb against the perfectly smooth skin of her cheek. “Sometimes life isn’t about the end,” he finally says. “It’s not always about tomorrow and the day after that—what we achieve over the years and how we leave the world. Sometimes it’s about today.”
I hear my sister start to interrupt him but he pushes on. “Any of us could die tomorrow regardless of the horde. We could get sick or be injured or anything else. That’s the risk we take waking up each morning and stepping outside.”
Another pause. Another soft rustle and his voice drops. I close my eyes, recognizing the tone. Hearing the smooth huskiness of his words. “Life can be about you and me and right now. If you want to build something together, we still can. And we can worry about tomorrow when it comes.”
I wait to hear what my sister will say in response, but there’s only silence. And then the soft sigh of a kiss that causes me to jerk my head back and slip quietly out of bed. I tiptoe down the shadows of the hallway, stopping just shy of the main room and peering at them around the corner.
For a moment I stand there staring at the edges of them that blur together. Inside wells a want so fierce that it threatens to consume me. But it’s not because she’s in his arms—it’s because she can be so peaceful. As if she’s not worried she’ll wake up one day and he’ll be gone.
I realize that’s how it always would have been with Elias and me if he’d come home alone. I’d always be waiting for him to leave me again, just as we left my sister in the Forest that day.
In the pale reflection of the morning sun, I watch the small rise and fall of Elias’s chest pressed against my sister’s shoulder. Watch the light trace over her smooth face.
I wonder if she’s ever been cast aside. I wonder what it takes to believe in someone else’s promises.
Clearing my throat, I push myself into the main living area where they’ve been standing. They jolt apart, my sister blushing prettily as Elias stammers good morning.
“We were worried about you,” Elias says, and then my sister gasps, “Your cheek!” Her voice high-pitched,