Equilibrium

Chapter Fourteen

I keep my head on my knees, forcing sharp breaths into my lungs that sting. It feels like each inhalation is rubbing my insides raw. The air burns, but somehow each breath isn’t enough. My back is starting to ache from leaning against the wall at such an odd angle, but I don’t move. Wedged between the dresser and the wall, the sides pressing against me are reassuring.

She is my mother. Without her, there will be no one left in my family. I will be all alone. She might not be much, and I may not trust her very much, but...she’s better than nothing. At least I know, without a single doubt, that she is on my side.

The door to my room opens, but I don’t move. If I move, I acknowledge that he is approaching me and I have to acknowledge that I heard him, and therefore acknowledge that he exists, and that I am alone, even with him. We have been dancing around the fact that we are totally different for too long now. I don't know him. He doesn’t want me. I’m too tired to play pretend anymore.

He hesitates halfway to me. I can hear the falter in the beat of his footsteps. I am surprised he was able to find me at all. An incorrigible sense of longing washes through me. Oh, how I wish that Danny was here. He would know what to do. He would not run and hide--which is exactly what I did.

“Emmaline?” Nehemiah whispers softly, and I am surprised to hear a volume of relief in his tone. It surprises me enough that I look up. Nehemiah is surprised, to say the least. After all of these days of hiding away, I have finally burst. My emotions have finally bubbled over, spilling out everywhere.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper, and I sound so defeated, even to myself.

“Emma,” his tone has an ounce of reproach. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” He protests and I bite my lower lip, trying to hold back the next bout of tears. My breathing hitches and so does my heart. It doesn’t help that Nehemiah squeezes in to sit next to me, putting a loose arm around me. He is waiting for me to pull away, or push him away, but I can’t. I dig my fingers into my palms to keep my hands from shaking. I am so out of control right now. He moves closer and wraps both arms around me, holding me tighter. The floor is cold and my arms are cold and I am just cold, but he is so warm. Steady. He doesn’t change, and I am finally relieved about it. I love too quickly and too much--I know that I do--so I can’t blame him if he still hates me. It is not my fault that I have my father's resilience. I just wish that things had been...different.

We sit in the dark for a long time, neither of us moving…neither of us really acknowledging that the other is there. Time passes, and so do guards. I hear their footsteps, listen to their conversations. When the noise dies down and we are once again left to the silence, I marvel in it. All of my life, there has been this noise. The din of a crowded room, the smooth swish that chainmail makes, following me. Haunting me. Reminding me that I am not safe, not anywhere. This silence is loud, but in another way. It is in this silence that I let myself emerge from my walls, that I let me be me, the me that I have always suppressed.

“I can’t help but imagine what everything could have been like if they had come for me just a few minutes later, or earlier, or just...differently.” Nehemiah murmurs. I can feel him turn to look at me, but I just try to fold myself up smaller.

“What do you think it would have been like?” I ask, staring at my knees.

“I think I would have talked to you a lot more before I left. I definitely would have found out that you were the princess a lot sooner.” He laughs a little and I feel the corners of my mouth twitch.

“Your ring gave you away. What would we have talked about?” This is easier to talk about.

“I would have asked you why you always went out to the battlefield, and then why you helped me. I might have mentioned that it seemed a bit counterproductive.” I can hear his smile in his tone and I duck my head to hide mine.

“And then what?” I inquire, sneaking a peek at him.

“Well, you would have answered. You’d have told me about your dad, about how you can’t leave anyone behind, or how you believe that every person is a person and deserves to be treated as such. That...how did you put it…a ‘hypothetical line’ should not affect how we act towards one another.” He nudges me and I stifle a laugh.

“After that?”

“Well...I probably would have given you a ring. Invited you to my party. We would have been a lot more relaxed and we could have taken things a lot slower. I would have figured out your favorite color before I married you.” Something about the way he says it makes me hesitate. “And even better--you wouldn’t have absolutely hated my guts in the beginning. Or possibly now.”

“I never could bring myself to hate you.” I whisper honestly, broaching the untouchable subject that creates this eons-wide rift between us, and Nehemiah moves slightly beneath me, uncomfortable.

“What do you mean?” He murmurs, and his chest vibrates behind me when he talks. It is soothing. So is his voice.

“When Danny died. I didn’t hate you. I couldn’t. It wasn’t your fault.” I explain, and he is silent for a long minute afterwards.

“You should hate me. I deserve it.” He answers at last, and now it is my turn to move. I turn to look at the silhouette of his face, and I can only see his eyes, so remorseful and sorrowful that I ache even more, if that is even possible. I don't want him to be sorry.

“No, you don’t. Why would I hate you?” I inquire and his eyebrows furrow.

“Why not? I am responsible for so many deaths of your people-”

“Our people. Nehemiah, they don’t blame you nor do they hate you. They’ve lost as much as I have, so if they can forgive you, why can’t I? Why won't you let me?” I ask and he sighs. He starts to say something else, but the door opens and a long "shadow" of light finds us where we hide, in the darkness.

"I found them!" Elias calls moments later, after promptly shutting us back into our lonely darkness and stepping further down the hall.

"If I lose her...I will have lost everyone. She is the last blood relative that I have." I murmur, and Nehemiah starts to toy with my hair.

"We can be your family, Emmaline. I-I don't hate you, either. I thought that I would, but I don't. I can't. You have done so much and you don't even realize it. You are oblivious to the tiny miracles you make every day. I could not hate you if I wanted to and frankly...I am tired of hatred." He sounds as weary as I feel.

"I don't hate you either," I say vehemently, and he sighs.

"It was Shakra." He whispers, after a few moments of strained silence where neither of us were willing to be the first to say anything.

"Shakra? I thought that Shakra was our ally?" I inquire and I can feel him nod.

"Shakra was an ally to both Chautin and Genika, so I think that they are upset that neither of us are buying weapons from them anymore. Or at least, Chautin isn't. Now Genika can hold her own and supply Chautin if needed." He is distracted again.

“She really hasn’t been the best mother, but I love her.” I murmur. He sighs, but he does not respond for a long time.

Equilibrium feels farther away than ever.