Page 34 of A Taste Of Truth

Ally

Ishrink back further into the corner, unsure what’s about to happen or why. We were … I don’t know what we were, or what I was, but this wasn’t part of anything – no plan. Just hunt him, find him. And I had my knife. It made me feel safer, made us closer - connected. We were lost together in this freaky place of games and fears. I was settled in that, scattered but zoning in after I found him, saved him. But now I’m shaking again.

I don’t like it.

“Kill you. Easy,” I spit, glowering. “Back away.” My glare narrows, trying to filter out the white lights spilling out from him. They’re blinding again now, too much. They weren’t underwater. They were bland and grey, dying. Like he was. “Saved you. My Malachi.”

No more.

He turns for some reason, shouts words at someone coming into this underground room. I launch in the chance, feet pushing me up and towards rays of gold and yellow splintering. Blues come as I push through them, and then reds and blacks and greens and pinks. I keep running, chasing something, anything other than white and angry. No anger. No reason for anger. Help.

Search.

Body colliding with everything, I try to find space. No space, though. Just bodies and people and masks – so many masks. She was wearing a mask, too, until I cut it off her fucking face. She laughed at me, poked me, made her blonde hair wild and threatening. Told me no. Told me I was nothing. Never nothing.

My little blade told her so.

A sound screams behind me, making me twirl and turn and lose my footing on the slippery ground. And now feet. Lots of feet and shoes and heels and movement and I can’t move from them. I roll, try pulling my knees up, but my arms hurt. Tight. Bound. Fingers on me.

Where?

I slip, kick, move again. Nothing. Music, louder and louder. Don’t know it. Not my song – not ours. Heavy, though. It’s on me – in me. Pulse, pulse, pulse. I should fight something – anything. Keep fighting. Keep running. Save myself from the bad men. Save them, too.

My gaze shoot upwards through the legs, panics. Brothers? Where? Not safe.

Or are.

Lost now. Floating. I laugh and let my body rise through the crowds, watching the stripes of white that split and scatter the roof above me. Pretty lights. Strong. Silly colours. Greens and red and blues mean nothing. Only my white.

Who’s that? A woman’s face is in mine. She smiles, laughs with me, and then she’s gone up to the roof again. Blue glitter falling on me now, dripping and dropping through all that white. Lightening. “Where are you?”

“Here.”

I jump, try to move, spin. Can’t though. Held. Body still floating. “Yes, here.”

“With you.”

“Yes. With me. Two. Or one.”

He frowns and keeps moving with me, throwing me all my white lights. “You’re fucked, little Alice.”

“Arms hurt.”

“Are you going to behave?”

“So loud.”

“Shall we dance?”

“Yes.”

“Behave, Alice. Don’t make me hurt you again.”

Feet on the floor again, hands free. I look at them, then watch as he picks them up and puts them on him. Dance is good. Dance is free and love and happiness. Twirling. Perfect twirling and turning. My head lolls back, eyes taking in the colours, the faces, the lights and the smells. It’s everything, and nothing. Real, and not. I’m here, though, with him, not alone. Protected. Madness. Freaky ass madness and heat. So hot.

Spinning now.

Lips.