The whispers led me to her.
This way.
Through the crack.
She's close.
I had no reason not to believe my 36,000 souls.
They had never been wrong.
They were human beings once. Physical forms.
Now dead. Slaves like me. Some were close to a hundred years old.
They knew every inch of the settlement like the back of their hand.
They had earned my trust.
And I had no other choice.
Special quarters. Reserved for the best spot.
Away from all the suffering and agony of the slaves.
Past the guards who only pretended to watch. Lazy eyes.
The kind that looked but didn't see. I knew because I had studied them for weeks.
I knew which ones blinked too long. Which ones scratched their noses at the same time every night.
Which ones were thinking about their dinner instead of the prisoners.
The overseers were careless.
They had missed a small crack in the wall.
Engineers said no man could fit through there.
They forgot about a sickly, super slim kid.
A kid who ate scraps. A kid who could pass through without being detected.
Her room wasn't a cell.
That surprised me.
I expected iron bars. Chains.
The same grey stone as the children's block.
But this room had walls painted pale blue.
A bed with real blankets. A window that showed the purple sky of Zambezi 7.
She had a view. Like she was a person.
She looked smaller than I remembered.
Makena had lost her glow.
Her golden hair used to shine so bright you thought you'd seen the sun.
It was the best part of my day. When we sat together to eat.
It was the cutest daydream ever.
Now it looked like a dry leaf in a desolate desert.
Dried out. Pale. As if it had aged a hundred years.
Her skin used to taste like coconut and honey with a side of milk.
If you ever kissed her skin. Not after her hard labor.
Now it was pale. Like milk that had turned bad.
Like something that hadn't seen the sun in months.
Her eyes.
Those gold eyes.
They used to look like heaven on a low budget.
In the dark, she could light up a room with those marvelous cute golden eyes.
The only reason I hadn't given up in life and killed myself was because of how my heart missed a beat seeing her.
She was worth being alive. Even in this slavery.
Now they were flat. Empty. Dark like an endless void.
Someone had drained the joy.
The laughter. Her innocence. She seemed like an empty shell of her former self.
Her mind was preoccupied. She didn't have the strength to look up when I came in.
For five seconds, I stood there speechless.
Without saying anything. You could hear a pin drop in the silence.
I just looked at her. Her back was turned against the wall.
Her dull, pale, former golden hair was messy.
It covered her face like a wedding veil. She folded both her hands together in a praying pose on her lap. Sadly. Like a widow.
"Makena."
Nothing.
"It's not the guards or your jailer. It's me. Little Ghost. Makena."
Her head turned. Slow. Like she was moving through water.
"Little Ghost?"
Her voice barely worked. It came out cracked. She had been silent.
Crying. Hadn't spoken in a long, long time.
Had so much to say and no one to understand or talk to.
"Yeah."
I moved slowly. So slow you could forget someone was in the room
I was a little ghost. Passing so fast it seemed I didn't exist. My feet made no sound.
Anyone without sixth sense couldn't pick up on my movement.
I sat right across from her. Looked into her very soul.
The spring pressed against me through the fabric. The bed was made for one cute girl. Not a bony kid.
I placed her hand in mine. A gesture that looked either romantic or comforting.
Her fingers had an eerie, chilled cold feeling to them.
"Wow. You aren't dead. I was here grieving your death," she said.
"Well, that makes two of us. I was hoping you were alive and well.
I prepared for having to bury you and keep your soul in me so we'd always be close." My voice was worried.
"Well, I can't say I'm alive either. I know you've seen and observed my pale face and dry hair.
I was milked of my golden blood. Into a vial for alchemists. As if I'm a lab rat. I feel hollow. As if I'm at my life's end."
I listened silently. I was powerless to do anything.
I could only be present for her. Listen without interrupting.
"I'm being married off to a Daoist Master's son. Some lord's son.
Firstborn. They want me to give him children. Golden blood children.
As if I'm a baby making machine."
"Hey, don't feel or ever say that, okay? You're so much more."
"Well, I can't help it. It's the truth. I'm coming to terms with it."
"We have time."
"Time?"
"Eight years. From what I know, you have eight years till they force you to marry the Daoist Master's son."
She laughed. A sarcastic laugh. The kind that comes when you're hopeless.
When you've lost all faith and accepted your fate as a pawn.
The smile that comes after you have no more tears left to cry.
"Eight years of this?"
"No. Eight years of planning."
She looked at me. Her eyes were wet.
"Plan what?"
"Escape."
She gave me a long, hard look. The torchlights on the wall bounced off her pale face.
Made her look like a ghost wrapped in Egyptian mummy cloth.
"You lost your mind. You're running mad, Little Ghost.
This ain't hide and seek," she said.
"Maybe. But you've been my hope since I was six.
When I was thinking of ending it all. So I'll take my unfavorable odds."
"Okay, that's sweet. But are you trying to die earlier?"
"They can try."
"Wánměi, please. I can't lose you too."
I held her hand and caressed it. Tighter this time.
"We survived everything together. I'm never leaving you behind, okay?"
She tried opening her mouth to object. I closed it. I opened it again.
"Oh my gosh. You are deadass serious, Little Ghost."
"I'm a promise keeper. I keep my word."
She looked around the room. At me. My scarred fingers wrapped around her cold ones.
"That's 2,920 days. Please don't do anything stupid. It's a long time. Be realistic."
"Trust me. I know what I'm doing."
"A lot can happen.
Tomorrow is uncertain.
I don't want you dying. I have a better life.
Maybe I can convince my husband's dad to hire you."
"Please, Makena. Don't say that. There's a better way, okay?"
"You could die in the mines.
They could move me again.
The lord could change his mind and take me earlier."
"They always destroyed any ounce of hope or shining light".
I nodded.
"I know."
"Then why are you still adamant?"
I touched her face.
Her skin was cold. But under the cold, I could feel something else. Something warm.
"Because you've been an anchor. The only reason to win."
She didn't speak.
"I know what I'm up against. I know the mines are dark, cold, and life isn't guaranteed.
I know the head overseers are at least Chakra Bloom or Dantian from what I've been reading.
But I will overplan and strategize them, okay? So wait, okay?"
"What am I waiting for? Your death?"
"Trust and wait for me."
She gave me a hard look. Looked through my soul. Then a spark lit up in her eyes.
Hope.
"I'm scared. They took so much blood. I don't think I could have kids of my own."
"Even if you're broken, I'll find a way to fix you, okay? Everything will be alright."
"What if I give up hope and stop fighting?"
"I'll do the fighting for us. Just don't lose hope."
"If I'm too weak or pathetic, what would you do?"
I crossed the distance between us.
"I'll carry you up like a baby. And I'll run as if my life depends on it."
She broke out into loud tears. The tears of hope and faith. That your fate wasn't sealed. That things could turn around for the better.
"I'm scared shitless."
"I noticed."
"I want none of this marriage."
"Have hope and trust. Even if it's the last thing I do, I'll get you out of this hell."
"We'll both be killed."
I cleaned her tears with my thumb. Gentle.
"I don't care what happens. As long as I'm with you, okay?"
I have to go. But I'll always be back. So brighten up.
I timed it. And sneaked off without being noticed.