The Folder

Chapter Four

Victoria and Julius

It has been five days since I’ve seen the outside walls of this room. Five days of putting up with Mr. Moody and Irritated. Five days of going insane.

“I have bad news.”

His voice startles me. He hasn't spoken a word in three days. I just stare up at him blankly from the nook in the window where I’ve spent most of my time. He stands in the kitchen, leaning on the bar, his eyes trail the outline of my face waiting for an answer, but I still don’t speak.

“We are out of food. There’s none left.”

My heart sinks to the bottom of my stomach. “Surely they won’t let us starve…will they?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Exactly what I said.”

I stand so abruptly it knocks the wind from my breath. “What was in the folder, Julius?”

“You don’t want to know,” he says with a note of finality.

“I do.”

“No.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

My body reacts so fast I can barely comprehend what I’m doing. I blink and I’m standing in the kitchen right in front of him. “Tell me,” I say through my teeth. “What is the experiment?”

“V…” He trails off.

My mind is thrown back to a place I don’t want to go. A memory scuttles across the edge of my vision. I shake my head and take a step back. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why?” He asks innocently, but his face gives it away. He already knows.

Of course he knows. Everyone probably knows.

“What is the experiment? Do we have to kill each other, Julian? Is that what we have to do?” Without thinking, I reach out my hands and shove him.

He stumbles back, a small look of surprise on his face.

“Do you have to kill me?” I push him again. I can feel myself slowly starting to go insane, the anger eating at my brain. “Kill me Julian. Kill me.” I push him again, but this time he doesn’t move. This time he’s ready for me. He stands as still as stone, which only makes me angrier. “Get it over with already.”

I ball up my fists and beat on his chest. He makes no move to stop me. “Tell me what was in the folder.” I hit him over and over again.

His blue eyes seem to grow darker as he stares down at me with a look of pity. I don’t know how many seconds pass. It could be minutes, or hours even.

But eventually, both of his hands grip my wrists, holding me in an iron grip. His fingertips burn my skin. “Calm down,” he growls, his emotions growing stronger. I refuse to look at him any longer. I find my eyes falling to his chest and I watch as it moves in and out.

I feel like I can’t breathe.

I jerk free from his grasp and run to the bathroom, slamming the door and all of my problems behind it.

I turn the water on and find myself slowly sinking to the floor. Tears flow freely down my face and I hate myself for it.

My life isn’t supposed to be like this. I’m only a few months away from completing the program. I should be in class right now. I shouldn’t be sitting on this cold tile, in the apartment of a man I barely know.

A man who, for some reason, won’t tell me why I’m here.

I come out sometime in the night.

His breaths fall even from the floor where he decided to lay, as I make my way over to the bed.

Slowly I crawl underneath the covers, my body aching from the hours of sitting slumped over.

The silence rings in my ears as I stare at the ceiling.

He shuffles and sits up, rubbing his eyes as he looks at me through the dark. My heart jumps to my throat. He looks so different; vulnerable even. His hair lay flat on the right side of his head while the rest is a tousled mess.

My eyes follow his naked chest all the way down to wear it dips below the sheets. When I look back up his vision has focused. We stare at each other for a moment before he clears his throat. “You know I’m not going to kill you, right?”

“Am I supposed to believe you?”

“Well, yeah.”

I scoff, but really, I'm trying to hide under my embarrassment from my outburst earlier.

He’s silent for a while longer, as if he’s searching his brain for the right words. He lays back down. “What is life like outside of this building?”

“What do you mean?”

He hesitates, “The Golden’s; those of us that are part of the experiment to find a cure. We don’t come from the outside world. We’re born here.”

I let his words sink in. I knew, of course, that the Golden’s are tasked with finding a cure for whatever ended the world. “So your parents live here then?”

“No. We’re bread. Do you know your family?”

“No.”

“I guess we have that in common.”

“I grew up on the streets an orphan for as long as I can remember. I’m sure my parents are dead…” I trail off. At least I hope they’re dead, because thinking of the alternative makes a ball form in the pit of my stomach. I'm not good enough; they didn't want me. “The city isn’t so bad. It’s not like here at all. It’s dirty, loud, and colorful.”

“Colorful?”

“Yes,” I let myself smile even though he can’t see me. “As in blue, green, red, purple, pink.”

“That’s amazing.”

“It is. Most people live comfortably, but everyone lives in their own world. If you don’t belong to a family, they treat you like trash. Not everyone was so bad though. There is a restaurant downtown that serves premium meats to the rich, and they would allow me to pick through their trash cans at the end of the day. Most places would run you off or call the W.O.H to take you to the orphanage but they always left me alone.” I let my thoughts run off, “That was nice of them now that I’m thinking about it.”

“Wouldn’t you want to go to an orphanage?”

I let out a harsh laugh, “and be worked like a slave? No thank you.”

“When did they come for you?”

“I was around nine or so. I was the only kid out of fifty that was chosen for the program. I got caught walking down the street, of all places I could have been caught. A W.O.H guard stopped me and asked me to pull up my sleeve so he could see my wrist. I didn’t have the marking so he forced me to go with him.”

“Kicking and screaming, I’m sure.”

“Yes, and maybe a little biting.”

“Can I see the mark?”

“It’s just a tattoo. Everyone has one.”

“I don’t. None of us in the Golden do.”

“OK well, I’m sure you’ve been with plenty of girls that have them.”

He hesitates, “Yes, but I’ve never really paid that much attention. I was focused on other things…”

I roll my eyes and hang my right arm off of the bed so he can see it. I have a feeling he won’t let it go until he does.

He leans up and my eyes quickly find the ceiling. His fingers wrap around my wrist. I fight the urge to pull away. His palms feel like hot ice enclosing my skin. My whole body seems to light on fire.

I can feel him studying me. His pupils are pulling back all the layers of my skin. His thumb runs lightly across my scar. I roll my head to look at him.

The tattoo looks small in his grasp, but I can still make out the outline. It’s a black square with four dots in each corner. It means, “Hello, I have been tested by the W.O.H” and depending on where you are, it means you failed the test or you passed it.

If you fail, your life moves on like normal. Nothing ever changes besides the ugly mark on your arm that you will carry with you to your grave. If you pass, you get moved to W.O.H Headquarters. The large building in the center of the city. The building that no one ever talks about. The building that is avoided like it itself was the one that ended the world.

Once you complete the program when you turn eighteen, you’re then either chosen and moved to the floor of your new assignment, or you're thrown back to the streets, or possibly even the outstretched arms of your family you haven’t seen in years.

I look up to find him staring at me. A hot heat spreads throughout my chest and tingles my toes.

His breath seems to become heavier.

I find the courage to pull away and once again face the wall. “Goodnight Julian.”

“Goodnight Victoria.”

***

Victoria and Julius

I met Arthur by accident.

It was summer, I think. The building was always kept at the same temperature, but the barred windows in my apartment that gave a peak to the city that stretched on and on gave it away.

I could see the garden from that window, and the plants were in full bloom.

We met at the coffee shop. I had a big test on the central nervous system of the human body. I had no sleep the night before. My hair was in a huge messy bun that I didn’t have time to comb out, and I’m pretty sure there was already a coffee stain on my school uniform from the pot I had made before leaving my room.

It was a normal day. I read on my way to the shop and as I stood in line to place my order. I waited at the end of the counter until they called my name, and then I sat at my table; the table I’ve occupied every morning for the past three years.

I was quizzing myself in my head when he first spoke. “What are you reading?”

I jumped, so absorbed in the material before me I hadn’t noticed him. He was sitting across from me, blowing the steam off his mug, and my God did he make the world stop spinning.

His dirty blonde hair stopped right above his brow, curling around his ears. His mouth was thin, yet full and perfectly pink. Perfectly delicious. His skin seemed to glow under the soft light of the coffee house. His uniform was precisely ironed, not a thread out of place, but it was his eyes; his eyes that snatched away any chance of me forming a thought. They were dark brown. So dark, that I felt if I stared long enough I could see my reflection in his irises.

“Are you OK?” He asked, seeming genuinely concerned.

“This is my table,” I said, finally able to form a complete sentence.

“Well, I don’t see your name on it anywhere.”

“I’ve sat here every day for three years.”

“It still doesn’t have your name on it.”

I rolled my eyes. “I have a test to study for. I don’t have time for conversation.”

He blinked at me, surprised. He nodded and went back to drinking his coffee.

I returned my gaze to my book but I could still feel his eyes on me. When I looked up again, he averted them to past my shoulders.

I went back to studying-well attempting to study. At precisely 6:45 I stood to leave.

“Good luck on your test.”

“Thank you.”

I couldn’t help but to smile once my back was turned and I was heading to class. I got a middle grade on my assignment that day. All I could see was him.

The next day, I was reading at my table when a hand tapped the table and a body slid onto the seat across from mine. “Another test today?”

I looked up from the words on the page, and tried to put on my annoyed face. “Yes.”

He nodded and continued to sip his coffee.

We didn't speak again until I was leaving. “Good luck,” he said, smiling from ear to ear as I stood.

I narrowed my eyes at him. His behavior caught me off guard. He was acting like we had just had the best morning chat ever. “Thank you,” I said before promptly walking away.

It wasn’t until a week of doing the same routine that he finally got me to c***k. Finally, he got me to speak to him.

That morning, he beat me to the table. There were plenty of others open at that time of day. The world wasn’t fully alive yet, but I refused to give up my seat. I liked my routine. I didn’t want to change it, and maybe some part, some small tiny part of me, enjoyed his company in the mornings.

I sat down and he smiled. “I didn’t think you would sit here today.”

“Is that why you came early? To test out your theory?”

“No. I came early to do this.” He pointed to a spot in front of him on the table. I leaned forward. He had carved his name in cursive into its surface.

I looked up at him surprised that he would do something so daring in such a public place. Those that broke the rules didn’t last very long here; but then again, he was a Golden boy. He could do whatever he wanted and get away with it; even murder. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What is it that you think that I’m doing?”

“I know who you are.”

“Okay, who am I then?”

“You're Arthur.”

“You’re a smart one.” He said, amused, his eyes falling to the spot on the table he had just shown me moments before.

I blushed, a little embarrassed. “No, that’s not what I meant and you know it. You’re a golden boy, I’ve heard all about you.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “And what is it that you think you know about me?”

“That you’ll bang anything that walks.”

He lets out a genuine laugh, like what I said relieved him. “I think you have me confused with my friend Jay.”

“Jay?”

“Julius.”

“Oh him. No, I don’t have you confused with anyone.”

“Is that what you think I’m trying to do? Get in your pants?”

I know my face is on fire but I refused to break our eye contact. “What else would you be doing here?”

“Maybe I enjoy your company.”

I smiled tightly. “Sure.” I lifted my book back up from the table but he reached his hand over and pulled it back down.

“I’m serious. You’re interesting.”

“Me?”

“Is that really so hard to believe?”

“Yes. We’ve barely said five words to each other.”

“You don’t have to talk to someone to find them interesting.”

I paused. “If you let me read and don’t breathe too loudly, I’ll allow you to sit there.”

“Deal.”

“Can I go back to my reading now?”

“Yes you may.”

The next morning he beat me there again, and I couldn’t hide my smile and excitement when I sat and looked down. Carved on the table was my name. My beautiful name in his handwriting.

Over my excitement and giddy feelings there was something nagging at me. Something gnawed at the tissue in my brain but I pushed it aside. Only months later did that feeling come back to me, causing me to replay that first week over and over again in my head. After days, I finally realized what was wrong, one teeny tiny detail that I would have realized if I would have listened to my brain instead of my heart.

I never told him my name.

My stomach growls, knocking me away from his memories.

It’s been three days since I last tasted food. Three miserable days.

The moon has just dipped behind the clouds from the window outside. Julius lays on the floor beside me staring into the darkness as our bodies take turns growling at each other from a lack of energy.

As the hours had ticked by, I came to the realization of two things. The first being that the room has gotten extremely cold. The second being, I must really be going insane because the temperature isn’t supposed to change. Not in this room. Not in the hallway. Not anywhere.

My teeth started chattering against my will minutes ago. Julius huffs from his spot on the floor and stands to go to the restroom. As he turns on the light I swear I can see his breath.

When he returns, he motions his hand at me.

“What?” I ask, feeling like I’m in a daze.

“Scoot over.”

“No.”

“Listen, I don’t have the patience to argue. It’s cold in here-and don’t tell me you're not cold-and I’m not going to freeze to death because you are too busy being a prude.”

I scoot close to the wall, something about the tone of his voice slightly scares me.

At first he’s stiff as a board behind me, but then his body relaxes and he curls around me.

I burrow my face into the pillow and try to scoot closer to the wall, but he throws his arm around me and forces me against him. “I said stop being you. I get it ok? Nothing is going to happen. I’m not a total asshole. Do you think I would do anything you didn't want me to do?”

“No,” I say smally.

“Ok then go to sleep.”

But I can’t go to sleep. Not with him so close. Not now. I can feel every inch of him against me. His heat radiates to me under the blanket. I try not to breathe too hard. I try to stay as still as I possibly can, but there’s something about him against me that I can’t shake.

I feel comfortable and I hate that.

Eventually I fall asleep.

When I open my eyes again, the sunlight is falling onto the floor. We haven’t moved. I can feel something hard against my back and it makes my legs tingle.

Slowly, I remove his arm from my waist and place it carefully back on the bed. He doesn’t budge. I tiptoe across the room and as my hand is reaching for the doorknob he speaks, “I don’t know why you’re still trying. They’re not going to unlock it.”

I shrug and as my fingertips turn the cool metal there is a soft click. My eyes widen as I look back at him. He’s beside me in seconds, pulling it the rest of the way open. We both share a look and laugh.

“Why now?” I ask.

A look of understanding passes over his features but it quickly disappears. He shrugs, “I guess you were right. They won’t let us starve.”

I step into the hallway, almost running into someone, but they're quick and catch me before I have the chance.

“Victoria?” Arthur says his hands quickly dropping back to his sides as if my touch stings him. His brow draws together in confusion as he looks between me and Julius. “What the hell were you doing in there?”