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Rayne
I wake with a jump. My neck throbs behind my ear but panic blocks it out. My eyes scan around the unfamiliar room of sea foam greens, bright whites, and soft grays. Looking down, I run my hand through the blanket I have not parted with since the camping trip, noticing someone has changed my clothes to silky pajamas. A fire casts a yellow hue over the room. The bed and pillows are soft beneath me.
“Good, you're awake.” My eyes look toward the voice. My grandfather sits in a chair in the corner, a book tucked into his lap.
I rub my eyes, body relaxing a fraction. “Where am I?”
He smiles, it’s filled with warmth. “The library apartment.”
“Oh…” I feel awkward because I do not really know this man. I also have a thousand questions burning on the tip of my tongue.
His eyes sparkle, as if he can read my inside thoughts. “Just ask them. I know you have a million questions.”
I swallow the emotions, their presence a weakness in this world. “Why put me into the system? Was there… something wrong with me?”
His eyes soften. He walks over to me, sits on the bed, and tangles our hands together. “There was nothing wrong with you. You were the most beautiful baby we ever laid eyes on. Of course, don’t tell Raiden.” He chuckles, sighing. His eyes are haunted as if he is stuck in a tragic memory. “They used your life as a social experiment, as you know. They wanted to shake up the balance, to see if we could grow from your experience. We… we do not know hardship. It is very black and white, and we needed someone with some gray. Someone to balance it out that was not controlled by money. You were the perfect opportunity. Last born of your generation.”
He looks away from me, eyes fixated on the fire. “When it was brought to a vote, it was unanimous. Your grandmother and I were heartbroken. Each generation, it seems humanity dies a little more. You were a baby, and we did not agree. Tried to fight, but the law required us to abide the decision. As you know, this culture—”
“Cult,” I cut him off. “It’s a cult, why sugarcoat it?”
He laughs. “I just wanted to protect you for a little while, since I never truly could. The cult, secret society, whatever you want to call it, has stricter rules. A way things must be done… until you.”
“Me?” I raise my eyebrows in confusion.
“You… you will be the next leader, the one to give us humanity, to change all that is wrong… You’re the—”
“If you say prophecy, I will scream.” I cannot handle any more cult shit right now.
He laughs, eyes crinkling in happiness as he squeezes my hand. “You’ll change us for the better. An old man knows these things.”
“Where do I go from here? What should I do?”
“For now, you stay here. You rest. This place is yours. Heard you’re a reader like me. This place does not get the love it used to. So stay, make yourself at home. This place deserves the love your grandmother used to pour into it.”
I smile? “How did she die, if you don’t mind me asking?”
He swallows, pain etching every surface of his face. “Cancer. All the money in the world and I couldn’t save her.”
I squeeze his hand, my eyes glistening from unshed tears. Not for me, for him. For their love story that ended too soon.
“Would you like to see her?”
I nod, eager to learn more about the woman who cherishes everything so much. They were the only ones who seemed to be worth anything so far. He pulls a photo out of his brown wallet. The photo is aged with wear. The colors faded and crinkled around the edges. I look at the woman; she is young with my nose and smile. My cheekbones and freckles. If her hair had strawberry swirls, we would be identical.
“Wow,” I breathe out, my heart swelling. It is one thing to know there is someone out there who shares your DNA, but it is a completely different sensation when you lay your eyes on them. When you know there is no doubt that… that is where you came from. They are yours and you are theirs. “We’re identical.”
“Yes, I knew the moment I saw you that you were mine.” I look up, smiling as I wrap my arms around his neck. Chuckling, he squeezes me back.
A throat clears and we break away. Branson is standing in the doorway, his body leaning against the frame, dark hair in his eyes.
My grandfather sneers at Branson. “As for the trash, just say the word and I will have it taken out.” He leans closer to me, whispering, “But remember, love is not all hearts and flowers, sometimes the most beautiful ones begin with lies and deceit. But make the bastard grovel. Show him he’s messing with a queen now, not a pawn.” He stands, walking over to the door, then bends down and whispers something in Branson’s ear that has him stiffening.
I cross my arms, glaring at him. You know what is funny? My brain is livid, ready for a fight, but my heart, the stupid thing beating out of my chest, shaking the butterflies in my stomach, is begging to forgive. They are at war with each other.
“Well?” I ask.
“Rayne, I’m sorry, okay? Forgive me because it’s driving me crazy to be without you.” And just like that, my heart is cheering, trusting blindly, but my brain is shoving it down, taking control. He walks closer to me, sitting on the bed next to me. His eyes are dark, tiny monsters peeking behind them, ready to unleash.
