The Prophet's Daughter (19 page)

“Y-Yes, ma’am,” she stuttered and lifted her gaze to meet mine. I peered into her eyes, crouching and putting my hands on her shoulders.

“We’re going to keep you safe,” I said in a stern voice, giving her a light shake. “Don’t worry, you will be fine. Do not worry.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” she said, blinking back tears. “But…”

“No, no buts, we will keep you safe no matter what. We just need to think of a plan,” I said, pulling her into a hug. I held her there for a moment, her head placed on my shoulder. I could feel her shaking stop, and her ragged breathing calm. I moved out of the hug and looked into her eyes – this time, she didn’t try to look away.

“No one has hugged me before,” she whispered, con
tinuing to rub her arm.

“Well, I just did,” I said, giving her shoulder a squeeze before I stood up and looked at Isaac. His face was riddled with confusion, but it was wiped away when he noticed me looking over at him.

“I figured we would just dump our drinks somewhere, hide cup in our sweater or just pour it on the floor, make it seem like an accident that we spilled it when the Prophet has his back turned,” Isaac sighed and shrugged, a frown fixated on his face as he spoke, staring at Ava and I. “It’s not the best plan, but I don’t know what else there is for us to do…”

“It’s a plan but we can think of more,” I stated. I looked down at Ava, brow furrowed as a few thousand questions and worries danced in my mind. I pushed them aside, however, knowing I wou
ld have to deal with them later whenever it was we planned to rest. “Ava, is it possible for you to stay with us tonight?”

“If it is your request, ma’am,” she responded with a slight bow.

“I request you remain here with me and my guard. Call me Arin, by the way,” I said and winked at her, letting go of her hand. I looked behind me, catching sight of a large platter of food sitting on the bedside table. “Is anyone hungry?”

This is it,
I thought with an inside sigh, attempting to make as little noise as I could. Ava lay tucked beneath the covers beside me, her breathing soft and smooth as she slept. I had only just met the girl, but I had to keep her safe. If I could just save one more person from my father and his acts of evil, I would be content.

My final night,
I thought as I stared up at the white, popcorn-like ceiling above, looking at the patterns. I had accepted that there was a huge chance that I would no longer be living within the next twenty four hours. A part of me embraced it; after all, I was the reason for the death of so many other innocent people, of innocent children like Olive.

I reached to my chest to touch the necklace Olive had given me, but the cold silver was not there. I sat up, looking around, a feeling of dread sli
thering into my chest. I could not have lost it. I could not have lost the only thing I had to remind of the little girl who I had loved, and continued to love, with every pulse of my beating heart.

I turned around and swung my legs off the side of the bed
, my gaze glancing at the bedside table when I saw it, dangling off the picture frame. Her necklace, glittering in what little filtered into the room. I grabbed the picture frame, pulling it towards me. I looked at it, holding the necklace tight in my hand.

She’s familiar,
I thought as I looked at the picture, the face of a pale young woman staring at me. A few freckles dotted her complexion, her lips pulled up in a pure, real smile while her auburn hair dangling at her sides in loose waves.

It can’t be.
I touched the picture frame, looking at the baby she held in her arms, giggling, with a small puff of black hair on her head pulled back by a headband. She wore a pink dress that came up just above her chubby legs, her hands reaching for the camera.

“You jus
t now noticed, didn't you?” whispered a soft voice, and I looked up to see Isaac in his chair, legs crossed as he stared at me. I opened my mouth, but he interrupted me with a shrug. “No, I can’t sleep either.” He pushed out of the chair, the floorboards creaking under his weight. We both looked at Ava, but she did not stir, and he approached me. I stood up, holding the frame in one hand and Olive’s necklace in the other.

“Yeah,” I said, looking at it. “She looks a lot happier here.”

“Well, the world also hadn’t killed her family and forced her to flee her past for the rest of her life yet,” Isaac responded with a sigh, taking the frame into his hands. He stared at the picture and smiled. “You were cute.”

“Sure. I gave a light laugh. “I guess so; I look like
a large marshmallow.”

“You should have seen me,” he snorted and handed me back the picture, eyes locked on the necklace. “Want some help?” he asked, his hands outstretched. I placed the necklace in his palm, my own hands shaking. I couldn’t remember takin
g it off and I was terrified I would misplace it again.

“It’s alright, Arin,” he breathed, pulling the chain around my neck and shifting my hair out of the way. I heard his fingers brush past my hair and I inhaled a deep breath, holding it as he latched th
e chain and untucked my hair. “There, no problems at all.”

“Thank you,” I responded quietly, touching the emerald and holding it tight in my hands for a few seconds. He lifted his hand and cupped it around mine.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” he said. “Jim wasn’t supposed to shoot. He just… He’s a trigger happy asshole.”

“You got that last part spot on,” I said and moved, trying to keep his hand away. “She was seven. It was her birthday.” He looked at me for a moment and blinked, opening his mouth as if to
say something, but he couldn’t speak.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t pull that trigger, Isaac. He did. He killed her and I will not have him saved – he deserves everything he gets in the morning,” I stated and crossed my arms, locking my gaze with him.

“I know, he has to die – most of them do. But there are a few who are innocent. I don’t know if we can save them.” He nodded, looking over at Ava. I followed his gaze, watching as she stirred. I stared at her for a long moment
before I moved to my side of the bed, setting the picture frame down.

“I wonder if she has a mother here..” I muttered, turning to Isaac.

He looked down at me and sighed, shaking his head.

“No. Girls like her, their mothers died birthing them, so the Prop
het deems them to a life of servitude to repay their mothers life. Their fathers abandon them. She’s been raised by the chefs and the maids, that’s what most of them become,” Isaac responded, turning to look at her again. “She’s a sweet girl. I talked to her while you were in the bath, and she was terrified. That’s why she was so shaken up.

It’s not easy, knowing someone is plotting to kill someone.. or you.”

“I’m aware,” I murmured, touching the footboard of the bed, watching the girl as she slept. She looked peaceful, as if she wasn’t full of a terror that I didn’t doubt haunted her dream. I hoped with every part of me that she wasn’t having a nightmare and that she would rest easy – she had a big day ahead of her.

“Arin,” Isaac whispered. I turned to look at him, and he stared into my eyes, lifting his hand to my face. He placed his finger under my chin and tilted my face upwards. “I will not let you die.” I stared into his eyes as he looked at me, his gaze searchin
g. I watched as they looked lower, and I felt a sudden fear shiver down my spine.

“Isaac,” I murmured, but he silenced me, touching a finger to my lips as he lowered his head. I tried to pull back, but his hold was too
strong. Soft lips touched mine, somewhat cracked and dry. The tip of his nose touched my cheek, his head angled right. I stared at him, his eyes closed. I struggled, pulling at his hands as I tried to pull away. My actions did nothing to thwart him, and he instead kissed me harder – pressing me against him.

“Isaac,” I growled at him and raised my voice. “Stop.. now.”

“Mm,” he responded, his hot breath washing against me. I squirmed, pushing my hands between us. I dug the heel of my fist into his chest and shoved against him, hard. He parted away from me for a moment, but leaned towards me again – and I punched him, pain radiating through my arm as I connected with his jaw.

“Isaac,” I spat as his hands released, eyes flying open as his feet carried him backwards, stumbling away from me. He lifte
d his hands to his jaw, shaking his head with a slight groan. “That’s enough.”

“But,” he began to protest, and I shook my head and put a finger to my lips. I pointed to Ava, who stirred under the blankets. She sat up, silent as she stared at us with close
eyes for a moment, before she fell back against the bed, falling back into sleep.

“I thought…”

“You thought what?” I interrupted and crossed my arms, returning my gaze to the heartbroken green eyes of the boy before me.

“I thought you loved me,” he whisper
ed, blinking back tears as he rubbed his reddened jaw.

“No. I trust you, but even that is pushing it, Isaac,” I stated with a matter of fact tone. I held my gaze, forcing myself to look serious – I was, but I was never good at transferring it through my bo
dy language. “Got it?”

“I’m sorry.” He moved back to his chair, leaning against the arm and staring down at his feet. It was obvious in his demeanor that he was hurting from my rejection, and I did feel bad for hurting him, but
the pain he had put me through was nothing compared to what he was going through.

“What are we going to do about Lovelock?” I asked as a flicker of hope passed through me. I feared we would go in without a plan, and I almost wanted to beg him to think of what we were going to do an
d how we were going to put an end to his evils.

“We’ll know what to do when we get there. Go to sleep, I’ll tell you in the morning when everything is set up.” Isaac waved his hand and didn’t bother to look up at me. Instead, he moved his book and sunk int
o his chair, leaning his head back. “Trust me, he’ll die. If it’s set up like I think it’s going to be, everything will go as planned.”

“We have one shot, Isaac.” I looked at him and stepped towards the chair, placing my hand on his arm. “I trust you, but
I need to know what we’re going to do before we do it.”

“I would if I could, but it is dependent on how it is set up.” Isaac sighed, rolling his head to look at me. “Our best option is to throw him in the fire.”

“And then?” I asked with a slight grin. It would suit him, of course, with how my father had been killed. He would die as well, but I wouldn’t show him any mercy or spare his face. All of him would burn – I would make sure of it.

“And then we leave, take Ava and whatever we can pack, and leave. Eve
ryone else will be dead, anyway.” He gave a slight shake of his head and sighed, leaning it back against the arm of the chair and closing his eyes. “It won’t be long before any of the others come to the Chapel once they have caught wind of your arrival – there are still many of them out there that have yet to arrive.”

“Understandable, will they come looking for us?” A part of me hoped they wouldn’t, that I could put it all behind me the minute the Chapel doors closed behind us, however another part was thir
sty for them to search me out. I wanted to kill them – every last one of them. I felt like a savage.
You cannot be your father’s daughter.

“We’ll deal with them if they do,” he said in a reassuring tone, squirming in his chair. “Off to bed with you. It’s a
long, long day tomorrow.”

I walked towards the bed and crawled in beside Ava, facing opposite of her. I stared at the picture of my mother and I, remembering the stories she had told me and the events she’d recalled about her life. It had all been a big d
ream to me. Bus rides at night to a random part of the city, car rides from dusk till dawn, food at her disposal and friends who were there for her when she needed them, through the good, the bad, and the ugly. I yearned for her way of life, just to see how easy growing up at been for her, but I knew it hadn’t been as easy as she made it sound. Nothing was ever easy, apocalypse or not.

Touching the picture frame, memories of my childhood began to play themselves over in my head. I remembered when she used t
o cradle me in her arms when I was scared. She would always sing to me, different songs, but her favorite was always an old folk tune she had learned in school one day.

“Little girl, little girl, don’t lie to me…” I sang beneath my breath, trying to imagin
e my mother’s arms wrapped around me, her soft voice comforting me. I could hear her in my head. “Tell me where did you sleep last night? In the pines, in the pines, where the sun never shines…” I sighed, tightening my grip on the pillow. I could hear her singing the rest of the song in my head, almost feel her running her fingers through my hair as she held me tight, rocking me. I blinked, tears blurring my vision. Tears, clear and tasting of salt, began to drip down my face. I stared at the picture, touching my mother’s cheek.

“I miss you,” I croaked, squirming against the bed as the mattress sunk beneath my wait, pressing my head into the pillow. I stared at the picture, a small glare cast across my mother’s face from the moonlight. Pain inside my chest r
adiated throughout my body, a deep and hollow feeling. Life without my mother was wrong, and I had gotten used to being without her. However, at the sight of her face, young and lit up with a joy that couldn’t be matched, I remembered just how much I loved and missed her.

I looked behind me, staring at the small, sleeping form of Ava. I couldn’t imagine growing up like she had – parentless, tossed from person to person and forced to live a life of servitude. Did she know there was another way of life that w
aited for her outside the Chapel walls? I doubted she would follow it with ease, however. She’d lived in the Chapel her entire life; the outside world was like foreign water.

I reached towards her and ran my fingers through her hair. She was one, small gir
l in a world full of survivors that struggled to make it through each day. She was Olive, even if she was a little older. They were the same – children forced to grow up in a world that seemed to want them dead. Isaac and I, we’d been lucky enough to spend at least a few years of our lives with a little bit of peace, even if my mother had been the reason we’d never had a stable home.

Inside I felt thousands of doubts rolling through me like waves, a
small twinge of my own fear. What if I wouldn't be saving her but, instead, tearing her from away from what had kept her alive for as long as she had.

Ava rolled as the tips of my fingers brushed against her forehead, her legs stretching out beneath the co
vers, brushing against my feet. I watched her for a moment, the reality of everything sinking in like a dead weight in my stomach. Fear-induced nausea washed over me, tears burning in my eyes. There were so many people dead as it was because I had been born.. because of my mother and the people like her.

Just go to sleep,
I thought as I rolled onto my back. I looked up at the ceiling and closed my eyes. It felt like I was back at home in the hours after I had discovered my parents. It was silent as it had been then; the only sound my own breathing. How long had it been since then? How many months? What did their bodies look like? Had someone else found them and buried them for me?