More torture
Elara
I thought freedom called my name, especially when I stayed up late and went to sleep when I felt like it. Oh, my hopes of freedom were soon dashed, however, when I was woken up the next morning.
I groaned, blinking my eyes open, and found Alejandra crossed. She had the best idea of what a tactical suit looked like. It was black, and her pale skin and red hair stood out. The cloth clung to her like a second skin. It was mostly a bodysuit, with a zip going down from her chest all the way to her waist. Across her waist was what looked like a small version of Batman’s utility belt. On her arms were gloves, fully equipped with what looked like tiny knuckle boosters, and her hair was pulled back from her face, tight and firm, revealing a stern expression.
“Get up,” she said, her words clear and ringing in my head. She wasn’t loud. She didn’t need to be. But dang, was she scary.
The sleep was knocked out of my eyes in an instant. I sat up straight, wiped my face, and groggily looked around the room.
“What?” I mumbled.
“We must train,” she said. “Did you think you were getting out of anything? Just because Beta Lucas isn’t here to be the one pulling you out of bed doesn’t mean I’m not going to do it. Now stand up.” She stretched her hand toward me.
I shouldn’t have taken it. Seriously, I shouldn’t have. The force she used to pull me out of bed was enough to fling me a couple of feet into the air. Luckily, I landed in one piece, but my nerves, my poor nerves.
She practically pushed me into the bathroom, where she hovered until I was done washing my face, brushing my teeth, and heading back out. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants, an unremarkable T-shirt, socks, and sneakers before she once more pulled me out of the room.
“We’re going to run,” she said.
She stayed behind me, which was sad. It was a horrid sight. I found that running outside was very different from running on a treadmill. I preferred the bland treadmill. Running outside felt like being punched in the gut over and over again. I struggled to breathe and was so distracted by everything.
I struggled to understand what exactly this “runner’s high” was about and found that it was nothing but a pile of nonsense. How could you run for twenty minutes and claim to find extreme focus when your lungs were burning, your heart was pounding in your ears, and it felt like if you stopped, you’d collapse? It made no sense. Needless to say, I hated running.
I decided I would do everything in my power to avoid it as much as possible.
“Come on,” she said, pushing me, urging me to move forward. It was immediate, after all, as soon as I began to slow down, even to the point where I stopped, she pushed. She kept pushing until I felt as though I would stumble over and fall into a puddle. But no, she kept pushing.
It was official, she was worse than Lucas and that said a lot considering he was the worst task master I’d known.
Finally, we got back to the house. During the run, I barely had time to think, but the whole time we were on the property of what appeared to be her great uncle. It was a vast forest behind his house that stretched on for miles, or maybe we were just going around in circles. Everything began to look alike.
She led me to the gym I had seen the day before.
“Come,” she said, beckoning me inside. “You’re weak, but now that you have run, your blood is pumping all over your body.”
She led me to the barbells. “lift it with your legs, remember," she said.
It was then I thought, maybe they were able to hear even when I was thinking to myself.
Needless to say, I followed her, or more accurately I huffed and puffed behind her until I stood in front of the barbells. I didn't know what she had loaded on them, but it was so heavy it could barely stand upright. My knees were locked; the muscles of my thighs refused to work. Oh dear, this woman stepped up behind me and spurred me until I stood up.
“One more,” she said. One more. Turned to five, five turned to ten, and only then did she say my favourite word yet, “break.”
I nearly collapsed. The muscles of my thighs were screaming at me, telling me we were done. Next time, she said, squeeze your glutes when you get back up. I followed her orders, but unfortunately I couldn't give her the dramatic push I had in mind. Sweat floated into my eyes, causing them to sting. I tried to wipe it away, but my break was over and I was forced to do the next set with my eyes closed.
The rest of the day was mostly filled with me failing at exercises, although one good thing came out of it: I was convinced I was a little stronger than the last time. I did not expect the first day with Lucas to feel like this; by the second and third sets I was tired and exhausted. My body screamed at me, but it was also strangely fulfilling. I smiled by the time I took a shower.
“Okay, down for dinner,” I said. I found Alejandra seated at the table, her voice coming out in small whispers as though she were talking to herself. Was she crazy? I asked myself as I turned into the dining area. Seated opposite her was a man with hair the color of autumn leaves, just like hers. Where Alejandra was beautiful, he was handsome. He had the same wide set eyes, his brow deep set; his full lips were pulled back into a smile but faltered once he saw me.
“So this is the human,” he said, his voice deep and clear. He smiled; his green eyes twinkled slightly. Oh dear, I thought to myself. Everyone here was either a supermodel or just insanely good-looking.
He stood up. His eyes journeyed from my head all the way down to my feet and suddenly I felt self-conscious. I wanted to slouch back, tuck my chin into my chest, and hunch over. Maybe it was just that my muscles were aching and I was tired; I simply could not do it.
I shuffled over to a nearby chair and plopped down, grateful for the relief in my legs. “I hate running,” I said, staying at the table.
“Oh, we love running,” she said. “Running is an integral part of our life, and if we do not embrace it, it is almost as though—” she turned and gave that strange, sly smile she used when she was joking or trying to pull the carpet from under my feet. “Imagine if Selena was chasing you, for instance.”
I shook my head and turned it away. “Must we always come back to the subject?” I asked.
“Yes,” she smiled. “We will always come back to the subject. In fact, we will never quite leave it. We will sit on it from now until you are strong and can handle yourself. I should be able to chase you in my shifted form and still be able to run for your whole life. Come now, sister, do not be cruel.”
His smooth voice tickled my ears. I wanted to frown for some odd reason. The fact that he was truly a draft, so perfectly put together, was a little disturbing. Did he do something to me? Could he have rubbed something on my eyes?
I looked at him, expecting to see steam rolling off his body or some strange smell that he exuded, but neither happened. He was just a stupidly good-looking man with long, autumn-colored hair and eyes that twinkled like stars.
“You're welcome,” he said. “I am not quite like my sister. I am a little less forceful. I think you will find me to be a better teacher with regards to your studies and politics.”
“Politics,” I mumbled under my breath. In every world it seemed to be a do-or-die affair, always filled with people who sought their own interests above others.
“Rest assured,” he said, my eyes going back up to his. “Slip up and you will die.”
Essentially, if you breathe wrong, you die. His eyes darkened suddenly and the nice-guy smile disappeared. Now he seemed even more intimidating than his sister.