Marked

Light pierced her eyes.

After being kept in a dark room for what seemed like an eternity, the light was an unwelcome intruder.

Rachel removed her arm from her eyes, eyes adjusting to the light to take it four bare white walls.

Something was going to happen, she was sure of it.

Rachel sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed and waited.

One of the walls separated for one moment in a sliding motion to let a blonde woman through.

It was Debra who approached Rachel and stopped halfway as if held back by an unseen force. Her lips were still a little swollen and she sported a large bruise over her jaw but other than that she was the image of composure.

She swiped the left-most wall with one finger and a panel appeared where she punched in a code that caused a white chair to spring up from the floor.

She sat down and contemplated Rachel.

“You must be so confused.” Debra began.

Rachel was startled- and even a bit angry- to see another person, a poacher of all people, sitting before her, trying to have a conversation with her as if they were merely discussing the weather.

As if the events of the last few days had not happened. As if they hadn’t just forced her to watch Hector and Jed die and then left her all alone in a dark room to drown in her sadness.

“I want you to know that we’re doing all this for a reason. Soon you will understand, trust me.”

“Trust you?” Rachel scoffed. “You made me kill my brother. Trusting you is the last thing on my mind.”

Debra acted as though Rachel had not said a thing. “I need you to tell me anything about your life before being brought here. I want you to start from the beginning.”

“Yeah, well I would like to be free and have my friends and family back but it looks like both of us are going to be disappointed.”

The other woman sighed and brushed short strands of blonde hair behind her ear. “I understand your hesitation to cooperate but this will go so much more smoothly if you will just comply. All I have are a few questions.”

When Rachel didn’t say anything, Debra pulled a crisp sheet of paper out of her shirt pocket and said, “How old are you, Rachel?”

Anger raced through her veins, hot and scorching at the casual way the poacher woman spoke to her.

How could she just sit there and talk to Rachel so nonchalantly? Couldn’t she feel how much she hated her, hated all of them?

“Alright, how about an easier one...what is your full name?”

“Get out,” Rachel said through gritted teeth. “Get out or kill me now but don’t you dare sit here and pretend everything is okay.”

“Oh, Rachel, only I’m trying to help you. The sooner I can prove that you are mentally stable, the sooner I can let you out of here.”

Rachel’s eyes shot up to Debra’s face, surprised.

What kind of cruel, sick game was she playing at?

There was no way the poachers were going to let her go and if they intended to it would only be once she had the real mark stamped over her forehead.

“Let me get this straight. If I answer your questions, you will let me out of here? That’s what you’re telling me,” Rachel repeated, humoring Debra as her eyes scanned the room for an exit.

“Yes, Rachel.”

“Fine then. My name is Rachel Nicole Wilson and I am nineteen years old.”

“Good,” Debra began, the irritation leaving her voice. “Tell me about your family.”

Rachel’s breathing hitched and she jammed her hands under her thighs. It was all she could do not to strike Debra across the face.

“My mother is dead, my father left us to be marked and I killed my brother yesterday or the day before. I don’t know. Time stopped making sense a while ago.”

Debra’s eyes did not leave her face as she asked her next question. “Do you want to be marked?”

Rachel laughed, but it was without humor. “I would rather die.”

Deciding she’d had enough, Rachel stood but the room swayed around her so what happened next was not exactly false. She felt her knees give way and she spiraled towards the ground, working hard to clear the black specks in her vision before she slammed into the ground.

With her cheek pressed against the cool tile, she supposed this was the result of refusing food and water for days.

Debra’s chair scrapped the floor as she stood and approached her, one hand going straight for the pulse at her throat.

In a split second, Rachel reacted much more quickly than someone who had not eaten in days had a right to and snatched the pen from Debra’s hand.

She rolled over on top of Debra, the tip of the pen pressed to the surprised woman’s jugular.

“What kind of poacher are you, anyway?” Rachel said through heavy breaths. “This is the second time I fool you.”

“Rachel, listen to me. You don’t want to do that. You’re making a big mistake.” Debra pleaded, her fingers over Rachel’s forearm.

“Open the door.” Rachel ordered.

“I can’t.”

“Open it!” Rachel dug the tip of the pen further into the woman’s throat, enough so that a thin stream of blood popped over her skin. Rachel hauled Debra to her feet, holding her arm as much to keep her there as to steady herself.

Debra reached for the wall but hesitated.

“You think I won’t do it, Debra? You’re wrong. You people have seen to it that I no longer value the life of a poacher. You are all nothing but monsters and I will kill you.” With her nerves fraying thin, she dug the tip of the pen further into sinewy flesh.

Debra gulped.

With shaking fingers, she punched in the code and the door opened with a sigh.

A relieved cry left Rachel’s lips as a corridor with white wall and bright LED lights greeted her.

In her moment of distraction, Debra slammed her finger onto another button on the panel and an alarm began to go off.

“Damn it!”

Rachel threw the woman up against the wall and made a run for it.

She let her legs propel her down the corridor toward a door she prayed would be unlocked. When she reached it, her suspicions proved to be true and she kicked the door in frustration.

She doubled back and took a sharp turn. She could hear voices behind her, calling out her name but she ignored them and pushed on. Her newly cut hair slapped her in the face as she ran and her bare feet ached from the cold floor but she would not let that stop her.

“Rachel, stop! Let us explain!” Debra shouted behind her.

As she turned once more, she came face to face with a large, open room. Within it, a multitude of people greeted her, all blubbering about the alarm. They were seated around tables, food forgotten, eyes furrowed with confusion.

Some covered their ears, insulted by the alarm, their grey uniforms crinkling.

Rachel’s heart jumped into her throat when a poacher, standing guard near the entrance spotted her.

She spun on her heel to flee but the poacher quickly gained on her, tackling her to the ground before she could get away.

He pulled her arms behind her back with his knee pressed between her shoulder blades before he snapped a silver bracelet onto her wrist. A sudden shock raced through her, her entire body shaking as if she’d been electrocuted.

“Stop!” She saw Debra out of the corner of her eye come skittering to a halt. “Don’t shock her. She’s new!”

Understanding washed over the male poacher’s face and he pulled the bracelet off of Rachel’s wrist with a quick, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

Rachel’s breath had not yet slowed when two poachers came to retrieve her.

“Bring her back to her room. She’s not ready yet.” Debra mused as she helped the poachers gather Rachel.

“Let me go! Get your filthy hands off of me!” Rachel screamed.

“Rachel?”

She turned to the sound of her name, shook her hair out of her blue eyes and took in the broad man with curly, black hair standing in front of her.

She felt the color drain from her face. Her knees nearly give out and she wasn’t sure if it was from the shock of seeing him or if it was an after effected of the shock they’d given her.

Rachel sucked in a harsh gasp.

She tore her wrists from the hands that held her and took off running.

When she reached him, she fell hard against his chest, her arms wrapping around his body, clutching at his t-shirt over and over to ensure he was real.

He stood there, shocked for a moment before he relaxed and let his arms encircle her. She pressed her face into his shoulder, her tears wetting the fabric of his shirt.

But in the warmth of his body, his sturdy chest and confident arms, all she could bring herself to feel was relief. Relief mixed with a desperate happiness.

“Hector. Oh my God, Hector.” She sobbed, clinging to him as though her life depended on it. “Please tell me I’m not dreaming. I can’t handle it if this is just a dream.”

“You’re not dreaming,” He murmured reassuringly.

Slowly, one of his hands went up to her hair, giving it one gentle stroke.

She couldn’t bring herself to believe it.

Hector was alive. He was really alive and not dead because of her own stupidity.

“You haven’t told her yet, have you?” Hector said to the others.

“No...she was different. Things didn’t go as planned with her.” Debra replied, sounding flustered.

Suddenly, Rachel was aware of how close she was to Hector and felt embarrassed. Once the initial shock of seeing him wore off, questions began to swirl around in her mind.

Why wasn’t he fighting the poachers and making a run for it with her? How was he alive?

She pushed away from him and scanned the room, confused.

“I-I’m sorry. I thought you were dead.” She wrapped her arms around her body, trying to give herself half the comfort hugging Hector had given her. “What’s going on? I’m so confused. I just saw you die the other day--I--”

“Come on, let’s get you to your room. We’ll explain everything.” Debra reached for Rachel’s arm but she jumped away from her, muscles taut and ready to strike.

“Let me come with you. I can help” Hector said. He took Rachel’s hand in his and gave it a slight squeeze. “It’s going to be OK.” He said to her.

“Alright then but try to keep her under control. If Abby sees her like this she’s going to have her sedated again.”