The Witch of Jakarta

Chapter 6: Divulgence

    Mandy’s legs stood awkwardly against the white walls, her fingers digging uncomfortably against her skin as she attempts to relieve herself of anxiousness. She would open her mouth to speak if it weren’t muffled down by a strip of tape. Nonetheless, she still voiced her thoughts, letting the tape across her lips translate her words into sobbing mumbles.

    ‘Where are we?’ She had said, though she knew quite well that the message was lost.

    The cobalt haired girl she knew as her friend stood beside her, perhaps growing more anxious by her presence. Mandy’s eyes wandered at the girl’s hands, still covered in her bandages; though slowly coming undone. Her ears rung with adrenaline, her friend’s voice startling her as it bounced through the overly clean room. Though the question didn’t surprise her one bit. 

    ‘What should we do?’

    Mandy couldn’t help but glance towards the man standing by the door; Pinot, as Amo had called out before. The man’s back rested gingerly against the doorway, the light in the room masking the smoke seeping out of his dwindling cigarette. It had almost felt as if he planted himself there, though unable to pull himself out.

    ‘She can’t stay here,’ The man replied, stopping himself before suggesting something stupid.

    ‘We can’t just let her go,’ Amo drawled, the worry in her eyes growing by the second, ‘And we can’t just hide her away.’

    ‘Unless she was telling the truth,’ The man quickly said, taking one last huff of his stick before disintegrating the filter.

    ‘What do you mean?’

    The sight of the man quickly grew larger, and it was only when he was kneeling in front of Mandy that she’d realize how big he was compared to her. He sighed, exhaling the remainder of smoke in his lungs; though still possessing the manners to let it travel away from her. Instinctively, the pale-skinned girl looked towards her friend; their raven eyes locking once more, though only for a moment.

    ‘If she’s telling the truth,’ The man said, ‘There won’t be anyone looking for her if we hide her.’

    ‘And her parents?’

    ‘Parents?’ The man said, his back arching in a painful position he turned to look at Amo. ‘Take it from me kid, most parents don’t actually care enough to do anything these days.’

  The sentence marinated itself into the room, the weight of it slowly mixing with the air around them. Every eye in the room unceremoniously around the other, trying to catch the glances that passed by. They reveled in its grasp, each one of their mind circling back to what had happened long before they had signed up on their path of life. It would have been unbearable, if only they hadn’t gotten used to it. Nevertheless, Mandy took a bit more time in her solace, finding a comforting truth behind the sentiment.

    Pinot spoke again, a question forming in his lips this time. ‘Why'd you stop?’

    Amo looked at him incredulously, of course, she knew what he meant. However, her quivering lips had refused to acknowledge it in Mandy’s presence. Still, the question had pressed itself long enough inside her mind, and she was quite certain she couldn’t tune this one out when she’s trying to sleep at night.

    ‘I like her,’ She finally said. ‘I couldn’t bear to-’

    The pearly skin girl looked up, eyes growing wide but apologetic all the same. Never before had the room noticed how time was so much similar to water—that it can pass ever so slowly, one drop at a time; and as of now, crawling into a painful stop.

     ‘You don’t have to say it, Amo,’ The man comforted, slowly releasing the tape off of Mandy. ‘I understand.’

    Mandy quietly nodded to thank the man but spared no time looking back towards Amo. They were scared, both of them of the consequences of their own actions. Pinot took off her binds next, freeing her completely of any restraints. Cautiously, she touched Amo’s shoulder.

    ‘I’m sorry.’

    The words didn’t register.

    Quickly the girl rummaged through her pocket, producing a small brass key, letting the glimmering metal shimmer and catch Amo’s eyes. Slowly, Mandy returned the key to its owner—her eyes showing a gentle but cautious concern. Amo grasped the key, letting it sit in her palm; he despised its weight.

    ‘Where can you hide me?’ The raven-haired girl inquired, looking up towards the hunched man.

    ‘Well, this is as good a place as any,’ The man replied, his eyes still fixated on Amo. ‘No one on our side has a use for prisons now.’

    ‘Wait this is a-’

    ‘Oh don’t be so surprised,’ The man scoffed, his gaze finally directed towards her. ‘Our kind has morals.’

    The girl opened her mouth to refute, however, she decided against the impolitic sentiment. Slowly, she willed her legs to stand up, which had done so with much pain. The man beside her was reckless, but he was no daft by any means, and he quickly helped her to her feet. Amo stood up as well, her eyes seemingly in a daze. Be that as it may, she still guided the group out of the small room; though forgetting to shut the lights.

    Surrounded by endlessly stretching hallway, there was nothing else to do but stare at the blank and dusty walls. To look at the crumbling white paint that had started to chip off as time punished it, or gouged by the past captives—anything to let time pass faster, as the three of their pace slowly enervated contemplating the possibility of going mad, fantasizing the absurd meanings from the wall's blank stare.

    ‘Where are we going?’ Amo finally said, having to find no other sound-minded thoughts in her mind.

    The man looked at her, his eyes thanking her for breaking the silence. ‘There’s a solitary cell at the end of the hallway, it’s a much nicer place to hide in.’

    Mandy’s senses perked up at the word. ‘You’re really going to leave me here?’

    ‘It doesn’t matter who sees you outside,’ The man said, ‘You’ll get killed, or worse.’

    ‘We'll visit you,’ Amo blurted. ‘Bring supplies every now and then, check up on you now and then.’

    Mandy’s eyes seemed to linger on her friend, poorly attempting to decipher her emotions. Still, the promise provided her with comfort. Be that as it may, the tension between the three of them only grew once they reached the end of the hallway. Mandy looked at the metal door designated for her, gingerly tracing over the thin coating of dust with the tips of her finger; a silly fear of being locked behind it slowly surfacing in her mind.

    ‘Give it a month,’ The man said.

    ‘I’ll get your books or something later,’ Amo added, ‘Get you something to do’

    The bright lights seemed to dim under the tension. Pinot quickly waved his hands in a motion Mandy didn’t recognize, and the metal door quickly glowed and opened its locks; letting the cold air slowly escape through it. Her eyes couldn’t help but wander through the new scenery; which as the man had said, was much nicer compared to the suffocating white room.

    Slowly, she stepped inside the room, careful not to trip on the thick door frame. Of course, the lingering smell of gunpowder didn’t escape her senses, but she was thankful the walls and sheets weren’t stained in crimson or gold. She sat on the bed, the thin and worn foam quickly sinking under her pressure. Amo quickly joined her but opted to stand instead; letting Pinot leave and give them some privacy.

    The room suddenly felt as small as the others; the odd presence of the half-opened toilet only adding to the list of unbearable sensations surging through Mandy’s brain. Be that as it may, her eyes were still on Amo.

    ‘Thank you,’ She finally said; regretting how long it had taken her to say it.

    The words seemed to bounce idly against the cold white walls, never reaching the witch’s ears. Mandy’s fingers stretched out like the bright light above them, her movement cautious and painful as she reached to grab Amo’s hand. Though she stopped as quicker than she started, the sight of Amo’s hand jerking away quickly sending her heart down the drain.

    ‘I’m sorry,’ Mandy said again; this time, the words traveled.

    Amo’s hands find their way back to her the front of her head, though it stopped just before it touched her skin. It was only when Amo’s eyes faced hers that she realized the witch was weeping.

    ‘I was so scared…’

    ‘Amo I-’

    ‘Do you hate me?’

    The words had left her like raindrops after a storm. It had taken them more time than they’d like to admit to realize they were digging their nails into each other’s arms. Eyes studying one another, diving into the burning furnace behind each iris that had been scorching their heart in flames. Their voices came back to haunt their mind, things that have been said and done leaving their sockets flooded with bitter tears. Then it stopped, much like a subsiding storm; they let go of each other, their flesh too wounded to ever touch again.

    ‘What you did with Andrew…’ The girl said, the words burning her tongue as she uttered it.

    ‘He told me,’ The witch whispered. ‘He told me to run.’

    ‘You did what you had to.’

    ‘I’m a coward.’

    ‘Don’t say that.’

    Their words lost momentum, and the remnants of what they had said slowly seeped into their heads to join the rest of the white noise inside their mind. Mandy was no fool, she had heard most of the conversation as the white light took her to that room. She had lingered just long enough to piece together what had happened. Be that as it may, what she would do with such information, she wasn’t sure.

    ‘Will you be okay?’

    The witch’s voice burnt through her core; nevertheless, she replied, ‘I’ll live.’

    The cobalt haired girl looked up into the light, observing the dusty air it illuminated. It soothed her mind, if only for a moment. Her eyes lingered back to her friend, who’s still wearing her dirty school uniform. Her eyes lingered on the tiny pool of red forming on her friend’s ankle-long skirt, making a note to herself to find out who had made her bleed. Of course, the witch would have to get the girl something clean later tomorrow.

    ‘Do you need more time?’ Pinot’s voice seeped through the back of the half-closed door.

    ‘Give me a minute,’ The witch said, suddenly she’s been staring for too long.

    Quietly, Amo whispered what would happen next to her friend. How the door is only accessible from outside, how Amo will be the only one keeping the keys. How the lights work, how the shower function; knowing the girl in front of her was barely listening. But Amo takes a moment to pause for a moment, letting her friend know what she’ll say next will be important.

    The witch produced a few small plastic pouches from her pockets, slowly pouring specific amounts of dust and liquids into an empty plastic pouch. Powders, zests, peculiarly colored liquids, and herbs. What must’ve been dozens of native Indonesian plants, slowly condensed into one small packet. The sight seemed to pique Mandy’s interest, as her head slowly inches forward to see what Amo was doing.

    The mixture was slowly starting to fill the tiny plastic pouch, some of it spilling onto the rim of the zip lock. Amo’s hand worked methodically, measuring each element as if it was second nature. Slowly, Mandy was starting to grip how much effort it much took to survive as the witch’s kind.

    ‘Andrew taught me this a long time ago,’ The witch explained, ‘Don’t know how he learned it given his field, but I find it comforting.’

    ‘What is it?’

    Without answering, Amo closed the zip lock on the tiny pouch, making sure carefully to store the other ingredients back in her pocket. Meanwhile, the newly made mixture swirled curiously inside the new pouch, the thick liquid slowly dancing and coagulating into a silvery black substance. Mandy’s eyes widened at its silvery ebony pigment, her mind wandering back to the thick inky substance resting on Amo’s living room couch. It was similar, but not quite the same; and with that, the urge to ask slowly felt suffocating.

    ‘It’s nothing dangerous,’ The witch whispered; as if to answer what her mind had been begging to ask.

    Mandy opened her mouth to speak, but another sight sent her mouth agape. She couldn’t recall what unearthly words her friend had recited, however, her eyes could never forget the flames bursting out of the pouch. The peculiar mixture burned with the pouch, defying gravity as it swirled on top of the witch’s palm, barely touching her skin. It had only lasted for a few seconds, before the hot mixture rested back into Amo’s hand, solidifying into sharp and uneven shrapnel of crystal.

    ‘Black Tourmaline,’ The witch said, holding the crystal up to catch the light.

    Mandy’s eyes widen at the display, watching curiously as the light silver linings shimmer under the bright white light. The silver seemed to have a mind of its own, lightly pulsating and moving with the slightest shift in Amo’s delicate fingers.

    ‘If you need me, just break it in half,’ The witch instructed, quickly placing the peculiar object into Mandy’s hand.

    ‘Thank you,’ The pale girl replied, gingerly palming the crystal with her hands.

    Amo didn’t reply, but the smile on her face was enough to let Mandy know that everything was alright for now. The witch contemplated holding her hand again but quickly dismissed the thought as she walked out the door.

    ‘How is she?’

    ‘She will live.’

    Amo’s eyes slowly trailed up the man, noting how odd but pleasant his hair was highlighted by the prison lights. Instinctively, she ran her fingers down her own mane. She had thought of a few things to say beforehand, but the look on the man’s face had only forced her to pry.

    ‘Why did you help me?’

    The man ignored her, gesturing for them to walk back to the meeting room. Amo was wise to follow him, however, the echoes of her question still lingered across the dusty white; torturing her.

    ‘We’ll need to smuggle a few things to help her,’ The man said, filling in the silence. ‘Some clothes, food, maybe a book if she’s the fancy type.’

    ‘Pinot I-’

    ‘But we can’t bring any electronics around here,’ The man continued, ‘I know you’re thinking of getting a burner phone but at this point it’s-’

    ‘I need to know!’

    The man had stopped in his tracks, his thick hair covering his expression. Amo’s instincts flared for her to run, somehow sensing danger underneath the absent corridor. Though somehow, she had managed to repeat herself.

    ‘Why did you help me?’

    Still, the man was silent.

    ‘All this time you were defending me and now you’re gonna go out of your way to disobey a direct order to-’

    ‘You’re a good person, Amo.’

    The girl’s voice quickly dissipated, the silence in her throat slowly seeping into her veins like poison. She watched cautiously as the man revealed his expression, her body refusing to look away at the sight of his eyes; which suddenly mirrored his past. The past that, frankly, no one in the damned building had known.

    ‘Someone used to tell me that kindness was the only free thing most are afraid to give,’ He said, the warmth in his voice enough to set the corridor ablaze, ‘People like you are ones to protect.’

    It took a moment for Amo to regain her voice. ‘I’m a traitor.’

    The man chuckled, the heaviness in his laughter somehow telling Amo that this was just as hard for him as it was for her.

    ‘You may be a traitor,’ He finally said, ‘But you had never betrayed our cause.’

    The room seemed to grow colder in Amo’s absence, with the rest of the district members waiting for her return as time crawls away.

    ‘Where is she?’ The punk said again; reciting her only dialogue for the past half an hour.

            Much like every other instance, she had said it, no one paid any mind to answer. Her eyes weakly turn to Ralph, who was idly drawing patterns with his expired dust potion. Her eyes lingered at his pitiful sight. His once neat shirt now riddled with seat and wrinkles as his nondominant hand tries its best to prevent its sticky fabric from sticking to his chest. She had too much in her mind to pay attention to what he was doing, that being said, she couldn’t help but notice the word “Heal” scribbled in Sanskrit. She couldn't help but feel her scar itch at the word, wondering what expression the man was wearing under the wet soot-black hair.

    ‘This is taking to long,’ The man said, jerking away from his handiwork.

    ‘They were friends for a while, Ralph,’ The rogue said meekly, ‘Give her time.’

    ‘Something’s up,’ Sarah quickly added, her grip on the table growing more firm by the second.

    ‘We shouldn’t have sent Pinot after her,’ Holy quickly added, ‘It was a personal matter to her.’

    ‘What, like we care how the hell that traitor feels now?’ The woman countered, fiddling with the hem of her dusty suit skirt

    Holy gritted her teeth, though said nothing more. However, it was quite hard to ignore the itch growing under her ivory skin, begging her to get up and check on what was going on. Her sable iris quickly found their way back to Sarah, observing the older witch as if she were the golden gate. Lingering by their leader, Sarah’s hazel skin looked sickly under the room’s white light; as did her words. Though Holy knew that Ralph was too busy with his own thoughts to listen to the older of the two informants.

    She looked away from the wretched sight, inclining on busying herself with Sam. The man was a place of the comfort of some sort, being the only person who cared enough to treat Inca after the fall she had, and Vincent on whatever trance he was in after seeing how Andrew die for the second time. She was quite certain the district’s gatekeeper would heal Rachel too; if he had the guts to approach her.

    ‘How is she?’ The informant inquired, not finding much else to do.

    ‘I’ll be fine,’ The rogue quickly said, answering on Sam’s behalf.

    Sam looked up from what he was doing, though his hands were still bursting with healing magic. ‘She fractured her spine.’

    Holy’s eyes instinctively wandered to Inca’s back, her lanky body shifting over to see more clearly. She was no connoisseur by any means on healing spells, but it was indeed the most used type of magic in her field. Her eyes soon grew fixated on the sight, watching curiously as Sam’s palms lightly pressed onto Inca’s exposed back. Holly life the fabric of the rogue’s shirt to help with the process, though it was admittedly more for her own eyes.

    Veins glowed a calming hue under the rogue’s tan skin, highlighting the placement of her spine and bones. It would take an especially keen eye to spot which part of the rogue needed to be healed, however, Sam knows what he was doing; Holy even more so. Inca bit down a painful grunt, as the fractured part of her slowly pieced itself back together; but the pain was only temporary, and the feeling subsided as soon as it had arrived. Sam quickly lifted his hands, gesturing Holy to roll down Inca’s shirt. Inca shifted away, fixing her shirt while the gatekeeper regained his bearings. His breath hitched at the first few seconds, finding the spell had taken much out of his energy. Though he had recovered quickly enough for it to be impressive.

    ‘All done,’ The man said, a hint of relief in his words despite his fatigued speech.

    ‘You okay?’ The rogue quickly asked, her eyes meeting that of Vincent.

    The boy’s lips stayed shut, but the look in his eyes was enough information for the rogue. She leaves the boy to himself, for now, and quickly turned to Holy and Sam.

    ‘So, anyone got an idea?’ She inquired, her tone seemingly unfazed.

    'Of what?’ Sam asked back, slowly rediscovering the stability in his voice.

    ‘Andrew.’

    Both Sam and Holy froze at the name, but they knew what the rogue meant. Holy looked away, her mind still flooded by the sight of the boy’s mangled flesh. Sam looked towards the floor, though he had the will to answer in him.

    Nevertheless, Inca continued, ‘What do you think Andrew gave Amo?’

    Despite the circumstance, the conversation ended as soon as it started, as a white light bloomed and blinded the meeting room. There was Pinot, as well as the girl in question. Pinot walked towards the meeting table, seemingly just as annoyed as everyone else in the room by how much time it had taken for it to be over.

    ‘Did she do it?’ Ralph quickly asked, looking up from the table.

    ‘Yeah,’ The man huffed, ‘Just needed a little incentive.’

    The cobalt haired girl stood gingerly where she entered, her expression growing more and more pained by the second. However Ralph was quick to call everyone back on the table, and she slowly brought herself onto her seat at once he called her name. Her eyes did land on Inca by accident; brief, nevertheless long enough for the rogue to catch it and return a disappointed glance.

    ‘What’s our plan?’ The hunched man inquired, the soreness in his throat begging him to huff a cig.

    ‘Firstly, we need to establish some things first,’ Ralph replied, eyes piercing through Amo’s meek expression. ‘What did he give you?’

    Amo looked up, meeting Ralph’s expression with dazed eyes. ‘What?’

    ‘What did Andrew give you?’

    The girl quickly scanned the room, her confused expression mirrored by almost everyone else present. Be that as it may, it might be good that Ralph didn’t pry any further about Mandy. She stilled herself, steadying her breath as she reached inside her inside pocket of her track pants; she was grateful it had been short enough to smuggle.

    She carefully placed the object on the table, taking great caution to not touch the tip of the blade despite the scabbard’s protection. The light of the room quickly caught it, highlighting the highest point of the blade as she pulled the scabbard away. Black, silver, and gold reflected beautifully as she held it up for the room to see.

    ‘A Kris,’ Ralph breathed out, his mouth agape.

    ‘I-I’ve never seen a real one before,’ Rachel quickly added, ‘A real, enchanted Kris.’

    ‘How did he get this?’ The man said again, his hands already itching to hold the hilt.

    ‘It was his,’ Amo answered, ‘Passed down to him by his parents, as their parents did to his.’

    Ralph’s expression turned almost erratic. ‘He never told anyone about this…H-he never even told me this!’

    It was hard to miss the pain in his eyes.

    ‘He didn’t mean to give this to me,’ She quickly said, putting the Kris back into its scabbard. ‘He meant to tell you.’

    ‘Do you mind telling me,’ The man growled, ‘Why you were even there?’

    Amo’s grip on the Kris grew tight. She braced herself, knowing that there was no avoiding the question. She needed something, and she needs it fast. But it would be a gross falsity to say that something inside her didn’t recline with the thought. She knew well and good why anyone was there, and of course, her first instinct was to let everything unfold itself without the conflict; it would be in her best interest to do so. But it was something that Andrew said, just before she turned her heels away and carried off the only thing that mattered to him at the time.

    ‘If you must tell them, only reveal the surface.’

    The cobalt haired girl’s grip loosened, letting her head drop as the strands of her lackluster hair masked her face. She felt their eyes on her silhouette, realizing if she had spoken right then her voice would’ve refused to cooperate. However, despite the knowledge…

    ‘He was the rat.’

    The air around her head had left. The room was starting to spin, white walls and dim lights meshing and turning around her. The voices were starting to surface. Her eyes forced her back into reality, where everyone was staring at her.

    Ralph was the first to speak, his voice trembling with an emotion Amo had never wished to see. ‘No.’

    Others joined him.

    ‘No.’

    ‘No!’

    ‘NO!’

    She felt her legs growing weak as she stepped back. However, before she could do much, a heavy hand grabbed her by the face; covering every inch of her mouth. She’d recognize the burning scent anywhere. Her hands instinctively gripped around Rachel’s arm, twisting and flailing in an uneventful attempt to loosen the punk’s grip.

    The punk yanked her closer, scraping the surface of her cheeks with sharp and burnt nails. ‘What the genuine s**t are you implying?’

    Amo gulped, scrunching her nose as her hot breath bounce back against the woman’s arm. Other voices had already begun barraging her, her eyes frantically bouncing around in a pitiful attempt to catch who was saying what. However it was all the same, so she relinquished what strength she had in her body. The woman above her quickly registered the lack of resistance, sharp onyx iris quickly making contact with Amo’s trembling figure.

    She had expected pain, which had made the feeling of freedom seem so abusive. Her own hands slowly traced where she was once grabbed, ignoring the conflicting remarks others had thrown around as her presence faded. Her vision guided her to meet the punk’s face, which had slowly contorted to that of disappointment; though it wasn’t disappointed at her.

    Sarah’s voice was the first to bring her back to reality. ‘This can’t be happening!’

    ‘We need to...W-We can’t just let this happen!’ Holy quickly joined.

    ‘Look let’s just hear the rest of it first,’ Pinot quickly said, his voice loud enough to calm everyone down for a moment.

    Amo couldn’t help but stare at the man, her mind quickly taking her back to the girl waiting for her in the underground cell. She covered her mouth, not knowing where to begin.

    ‘How’d you find out?’ The man said; as if knowing why she’s lost.

    ‘I-I found him in my lab one night,’ She said, the rattling in her voice quickly sending a wave of pity down her spine. ‘He was looking for something, a cloaking potion.’

    ‘What’d you do?’ Ralph quickly said.

    It had been the first time she had looked at her leader after all the commotion, and it had also been the first time he had seen him angry with tears. Her mind was starting to blur, but it was relentless. She racked up the fact, quickly fixing a timeline of what happened in the last week before the boy died; keeping in mind her mission.

    ‘Only reveal the surface.’

    ‘I-I confronted him,’ She finally spoke, ‘He said he needed it to deliver something.’

    ‘The Kris?’ The punk quickly asked.

    ‘Y-yes, though it only got as far as that.’

    Amo takes another breath, nothing so far has been a lie. She could do this; if only the thumping under her ribcage would slow down a tic. She looked around the room, finding that Inca and Vincent had been the farthest from her; she ignored it for the time being.

    ‘It took a while…But I needed to know what he was going to do,’ She explained, ‘I-It was undoubtedly from his family, and he had planned to deliver it to a drop off PURE had set off for him.’

    Ah, there it was.

    ‘Why?’ Ralph growled, anger and sadness seeping from under his tense jaws.

    ‘It was his parents,’ She quickly said, finding more ease with her voice as she regained her steady heartbeat.

    ‘Wait,’ Holy intruded, ‘We all know his parents live apart from him, but no one among us knows their location.’

    ‘I know, but it seemed that they sent him something for proof.’

    The informant’s voice dwindled down, ‘So, it wasn’t a bluff…’

    ‘No, which why he was extra careful to not get anyone else involved,’ Amo explained again, ‘It was the only reason I hadn’t said anything either.’

    Silence quickly settled much alike dust after a forest fire it had done nothing but warned them of the destruction they had failed to mend. It suffocated the room just the same, safe for the smell. But Amo’s mind, her filthy, corrupted mind, took her to where she wouldn’t dare go back. The sight of Andrew’s body came ever more vivid in her eyes, his mangled body robbed of any semblance to a human as the color of his blood meshed and covered any other color she gave him away as living. She stilled herself, rediscovering the hard thump under her ribcage.

    She could do this.

    The last train had already left, leaving Amo alone with her wishes of a quick ride home. She shifted uncomfortably under the purple sky, she didn’t feel like going home anymore. Her eyes glazed over what little clouds were left in the horizon, before circling back to her friends; the title she’ll choose to regard them as, no matter how questionable it was.

    ‘We should just run,’ Vincent started, his voice still as dry and strained as when they left the hideout.

     Inca scoffed, a strange expression written across her face. ‘Tell me, Vincent, what would be the point?’

    The boy slowly palmed his face, the soft sun rays highlighting his delicate hair as he silently wept. Inca’s gaze was unmoving from the train tracks, the usual smile on her face has long since left her face. Amo said nothing, her mind contemplating whether or not they would protest if she were to move and sat with them on the bench.

    ‘What happens now?’ The boy asked, his voice becoming more and more fragile.

    ‘We need to go home,’ Amo silently whispered, silently hoping they would simply disregard her.

    Despite her wishes, Inca’s eyes turned to face her. Piercing irises quickly silencing what little hope she had of bravery. The rouge haired girl stood up, prying the boy beside her with her hand. The boy stayed in his place, letting the girl’s hand slip away. However, something set off inside her, causing Amo to instinctively step back at the sight of the rouge’s waving hair.

    ‘Let’s go.’

    The cobalt haired girl blinked, not registering the words. ‘…What, what do you mean?’

    ‘You’re right, let’s just go home,’ The rogue sighed, ‘And think about this.’

    Amo said nothing.

    ‘Vincent, you coming?’ The rogue asked.

    Vincent was quick to stand up, despite the shaky arm masking his face. She gestured something towards the two girls, which had only been registered by Inca. The girl nodded, though said nothing.

    ‘You trust me?’

    Amo’s words seem to land on the air, seeping under the train tracks as the three of them made their way into the bus stop.