Flawed (Perfection)

by J. L. Spelbring

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She went around the table and stood next to him. “Yes, you do.”

  Sighing, Woody gave up the pretense of looking for something. “It’s my problem, Ellyssa,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Part of Ellyssa wanted to just let it go, but she had to know. She exhaled, her chest deflating with the release. “I don’t want you to hate me,” she whispered.

  Woody’s head whipped up, his face bewildered. “I don’t hate you.”

  “I don’t understand, then. All your actions are so confusing, but the one I can definitely comprehend is that you don’t really care for me. Maybe for my sake, or for Rein’s, you act like you like me because we’re all in this together. It’s the only solution as to why you smile at me one second and then refuse to acknowledge my presence the next. I might not be a master of emotion or body language, but I’m far from stupid.” Bottom lip quivering, Ellyssa turned away. She couldn’t stand the thought of him feeling sorry for her.

  Unbelievably, Woody laughed. Full and hearty, the sound filled the air around her. Here she was, exposing herself to him, exposing her fear, and he found humor in it. Her lip stopped trembling as embarrassment slithered under her skin, heating her cheeks. Anger followed close behind.

  “Just forget it,” Ellyssa snapped and started for the door.

  The laughter died as abruptly as it had started. “No, don’t.” Woody caught her by the upper arm.

  Briefly, she entertained the thought of knocking his hand away. Maybe twisting his arm behind his back, incapacitating him. Of course, she wouldn’t. That was an instant reaction of her old self. But her old self was still a major part of her. After eighteen years of living and breathing under certain conditions, she couldn’t help the times when she felt uncomfortable or insecure or angry for those types of thoughts to emerge. Instead, Ellyssa shrugged out from under his hold.

  “It’s fine, Woody.” She started for the door again.

  “Ellyssa, stop,” he said, coming behind her. “I listened to you. Would you please give me the same courtesy?”

  Against every instinct, old and new, she did as Woody requested but refused to look at him, to even turn in his direction. “What?”

  “Do you remember back in the cave, before the whole thing with Rein getting captured, when I told you that I liked you?”

  She did remember. He had looked at her all weird then, too. He also had made her feel all weird.

  “My feelings haven’t changed.”

  Tentatively, Ellyssa faced him, her gaze lifting to meet his grey eyes. Woody’s lips were slightly curled down, as were the corner of his eyelids. Shadows angled under his cheekbones, and his straight nose twitched as if he needed to sneeze. The back of his jaw clenched and unclenched, not in anger, but indecision.

  “I really don’t understand.”

  He stepped forward, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. He was close, his full lips mere centimeters from Ellyssa’s. The back of his fingers lingered against her cheek. Foreign tingles, like what Rein left behind but not quite, trailed from his touch. She remembered the feeling from the last time he’d touched her, back when he had told her he’d liked her.

  “I know you don’t,” Woody said, his voice low and husky, his eyes blazing like Rein’s when he was about to kiss her. “In some ways, you are so innocent.”

  His breath washed over her, and she inhaled his unique male scent that teased her senses. Her heart accelerated; blood pulsed through her veins. Suddenly, Ellyssa didn’t feel the cold anymore. Confused, she stepped back, breaking the contact.

  Woody slowly lowered his hand. “I like you, Ellyssa. As I told you before, I like you a lot. More than I should.”

  “More than a friend?” she asked, although now she finally understood.

  “A lot more. I—I love you. Ever since that night after Jordan died, I knew. I’d even say before then.” He lifted his hand, like he wanted to touch her again, but he stopped. Instead, he pulled his fingers through his hair and turned around. “Rein is my best friend. My brother. I would never do anything to hurt him.”

  She shook her head, trying to quiet the mounting discombobulated thoughts. “I love Rein.” Ellyssa’s voice didn’t sound as convincing as she wanted. “I really do love Rein,” she restated, stronger.

  He spoke with his back to her. “I know you do. So, please understand when I seem standoffish, it has nothing to do with you. It’s me trying to cope the best way that I can.”

  Even though Woody couldn’t see her, Ellyssa nodded her understanding. He was jealous. “I think I should go.”

  “Please don’t say anything to Rein.”

  “I think it’s best that I don’t.” She paused for a moment, unsure of what else to say.

  Shoulders sagging under the weight of his confession, Woody didn’t move. Not knowing what else to do, Ellyssa opened the door and sprinted across the yard back into the kitchen.

  Luckily, the room stood empty. Everyone was off doing their own things, none the wiser. She leaned against the door, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. Not because of what Woody had admitted, but because she liked the feel of his hand on her cheek. Because she couldn’t understand why she had liked it.

  Her love for Rein was undeniable, incontestable, no question about it.

  So, why did she feel as if she’d betrayed him?

  20

  Running a brush through her hair, Ellyssa sat between Rein’s legs on the edge of the bed they’d been sharing since the first night. The usual effect of the brush did little to calm her nerves that were coiled in anticipation, Woody’s revelation nothing more than a distant memory she’d filed away for the time being.

  They were leaving tomorrow. The thought filled Ellyssa with excitement, sadness, and dread. Every day that passed diminished the possibility of survivors. Camps were not known for their compassion, especially with what little information Dyllon had provided. Amarufoss was under the control of a Commandant named Hans Baer, a male not well renowned for his hospitality.

  “Relax,” Rein said, followed by distracting kisses on the back of her ear, his fingers running down the curve of her neck. Shivers accompanied his soft caresses. She leaned against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.

  “If you keep that up,” Ellyssa whispered, “breakfast will get cold.”

  Rein slipped around to her side, lowered her on to her back and lay next to her. His hand slipped under her shirt, his warm palm lying against her stomach; he leaned over and kissed her.

  “Would that be so bad?” he breathed.

  His scent jumbled any coherent thoughts she might have had; her breath hitched in her chest. “I—I—” was all she could manage. Ellyssa licked her lips, tasting him.

  Knowing perfectly well the power he held over Ellyssa, Rein’s delicious lips curled upward as the jade eyes sparkled, mischievously. He leaned over and tantalized the sensitive spot within the groove of her collarbone with light kisses. His nose traveled along her neck to her ear, where his teeth gently teased her lobe. He trailed along her jawline and ended back where he’d started, his lips against hers.

  Tingly current from his touch pulsed through Ellyssa’s veins, fed by the pounding of her heart. She reached behind his neck and, moaning, crushed her mouth against his. She pulled back long enough to tell him how much she loved him before her mouth moved against his again.

  He broke free, his lips trailing down her neck, his tongue flicking against her skin. “I love you, too,” Rein mumbled before his teeth nipped her.

  Her chest fluttering, she moaned softly. He was driving her crazy.

  Ellyssa tugged at the back of his shirt and pulled it over Rein’s head. She stopped for a moment, mesmerized by the muscles lining his chest and the bulge of his biceps. She touched the indentation below his ribcage and ran the tips of her fingers across his stomach.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said, looking into hi
s eyes. “I love you so much, Rein.”

  He smiled. “Words cannot even begin to describe how I feel for you.”

  “You promise, no matter what happens, that you will always stay by my side?”

  A slight frown pulled his eyebrows together. “I promised you that a long time ago.”

  “I know. I just wanted to hear it again.”

  Rein lifted her hand and kissed the tip of each of her fingers. “I’m not going anywhere, and that is a promise.”

  Ellyssa smiled just as Trista’s voice boomed into the room. “What the heck, guys? We’re starving out here. Would you stop the smooching and come eat?” There was a small pause as footsteps clicked down the hall followed by her voice. “Good God. Come on.”

  “I guess that’s our signal,” Rein said, pushing himself off the bed. He took Ellyssa’s hand and pulled her into his arms. “You ready?”

  Looking in the mirror, Ellyssa sighed. Her hair was disheveled all over again, as if she’d just crawled out of bed. “Let me finish brushing my hair.”

  Her gaze flicked to Rein. His brown hair was just as bad. One side lay smashed to the side of his head, while the other stuck out, as if he’d poked his finger in a socket. She giggled.

  An exaggerated frown surfaced before disappearing inside the black T-shirt she’d recently freed him from. “What’s so funny?” he said as his head popped through the neck hole.

  “Maybe you should think about doing something with that incriminating evidence,” she said, pointing at his hair.

  He pulled his fingers, once, twice, through his hair and presto, a perfect array of spikes. “There,” he said. “Better?” He poked one of the spikes. “I really need a haircut.”

  Males had it so easy. “Still better than mine.”

  He beamed and that spark lit his eyes again. “Let’s go.”

  “I need a couple more minutes. You go ahead before the food police comes back.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “Okay. Hurry.”

  “I will.”

  As soon as Rein departed, Ellyssa’s nerves twisted into tight wires.

  She grabbed the brush off the floor where it had ended up and went to the mirror. She was going to miss the simple things, like a mirror, the warmth of a home, good food set on a table, the sweater and dark jeans she wore. She was going to miss Tim and Sarah. She wondered if she would ever see them again.

  Ellyssa didn’t want to leave, but at the same time she felt like they shouldn’t wait until tomorrow. Every day brought unknown consequences to their group at the concentration camp. If any members were still alive. As much as she hated to think about it, the odds were not in their favor. And unfortunately, Dyllon’s security clearance and the need to be inconspicuous had hindered any further helpful information.

  Her hair tied back in a loose bun, she started toward the door. Footsteps filtered from the hall.

  Trista, so impatient.

  Narrowing her eyes, Ellyssa sidled to the door with cat-like stealth and waited to pounce. Knob in hand, she prepared to whip the door open and pop out, but the sound caused her to hesitate. They didn’t belong to Trista.

  Woody lingered outside the door, the thickness of the wood separating them. She could feel his presence, hear his breath. Closing her eyes, Ellyssa pressed her back against the wall, waiting for a knock, but one never sounded. Instead, he sighed and continued to his room next door. As soon as she heard the click of the door closing, Ellyssa released bated breath.

  Since the day of his confession, they hadn’t been alone together—thankfully. Ellyssa’s lack of experience made her feel uncomfortable at the prospect. She didn’t know what to say or how to act. Even though in some ways things were better between them with the air cleared, at least for her because she understood now. But at other times, a thick wall of tension settled between them. Then there were instances, like now, when the ghost of his touch breathed across her cheek.

  Guiltily, she rubbed her cheek until her pale skin glowed, as if to erase the phantom presence.

  Sitting on his bunk, alone, Mathew leaned forward on his elbows, his hands hanging between his knees. A pile of dull boots was stacked next to feet, the unused cloth and unopened polish next to him. Unshed tears stung his eyes as he stared at the cold ground. Guilt crushed his chest, his being, like a ton of bricks were dropped on him.

  A week had passed, and still no Eric. Mathew had known the first night his friend was dead, Eric’s body shoved into the incinerator like trash. The following morning held more proof; puffs of dwindling smoke had curled from the chimney on top of the square building with the vent, but he had held on to hope like a life preserver.

  Mathew had to let it go, accept his friend’s demise. Sink or swim.

  The Commandant wouldn’t touch him—couldn’t touch him?—but the man wasn’t beneath making Mathew pay anyway. Eric’s disappearance had proven that. What was worse was that he would care less if it had been his own life. That was something he’d come to terms with a long time ago. None of the Renegades sacrificed the safety of their group for themselves. What he couldn’t come to terms with was a group member being sacrificed anyway. All on account of him.

  Fury and despondency wilted what was left of Mathew’s optimism. He couldn’t stand to face the dismal cloud of death anymore. He stood and kicked the boots he was supposed to be polishing. Black leather rose and fell to the concrete ground with unsatisfying thumps. He stomped over to a boot lying by Danny’s bed—a young man of about twenty, wafer-thin and sickly now—and ripped it up off the floor. With all his might, he launched it at the metal mirror, angered even more because it just bounced off the polished surface without so much as a crack. Mathew carried on with his tantrum, kicking and throwing the boots, smashing them into walls and bunks, each attempt to destroy as unsatisfying as the next.

  Suddenly, Mathew stopped, the coals of uncontrollable rage fizzling into ashes, his paroxysm ebbing.

  Chest rising and falling irregularly, Mathew looked around at the chaos he’d created. Boots lay around everywhere—on the bunks, on the floor, one tottering at the edge of their pathetic source of heat.

  All he’d managed to do was cause more trouble if a soldier happened to appear. Actually, Mathew was surprised that, with all the noise, someone hadn’t burst through the door. Then what would happen? More people dying because of his outburst. Punishment and more punishment. Before the nightmare was realized, Mathew rushed around the room, picking up the boots and tossing them into a pile next to his bunk, until he stooped to grab one at the foot of Eric’s old bunk.

  Mathew tried not to pay attention to where he was, but it was useless. His eyes were drawn to where his friend, up until recently, had slept. The thin mattress lay bare with no grey, scratchy blankets to hide the yellowed stains of fear from previous occupants.

  With the boot dangling from his fingers, Mathew crumpled to his knees, tears coursing down his face.

  As much as he hated the fact, he knew what he had to do.

  Ellyssa waited until Woody’s bedroom door closed, and his steps faded down the hall before she peeled her back off the wall. She couldn’t explain why she was so afraid if he happened to knock. So what if Woody’s love for her was different than the love she felt for him? She still felt close to him for all he’d done, for being her best friend. Eventually, a time would come when they would be left alone. The problem was, when she’d tried, she couldn’t rub away the feel of his touch. Still it haunted the side of her face.

  Plucking up her courage, Ellyssa straightened her sweater and opened the door to an empty hall. She stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind her.

  Voices carried from the kitchen, the clinking of dishes. They had started without her.

  “Is Ellyssa feeling well?” Sarah asked, motherly to the core.

  “She’s fine,” replied Rein. “Fixing her hair.”

  “Maybe you should stop messing it up,” Trista said with a giggle.

  Ellyssa felt red ru
sh into her face.

  “Shut up.” Rein’s words.

  Trista giggled again.

  Slowly, waiting for the heat to diminish from her cheeks, Ellyssa started a slow pace to the end of the hall and stopped at the small room where Tim kept the out-of-date radio. A short burst of static resonated within the room, along with what sounded like a single word.

  She swung the door open. Dead air greeted her. The gun-metal-grey longwave radio sat silently on top of the scarred desk. The slatted-back chair was pushed into the space under the single drawer; unconnected headphones lay draped across the scarred arm. A black wire led from the radio to the beat-up microphone. The dial rested to the left.

  Ellyssa reached out and fingered the volume knob, turning it to the right. Nothing. The band stayed still.

  Thinking she was mistaken, hearing things, she dropped her hand. She started to turn around when the tuner band pegged and static erupted from the speakers.

  “Base One,” the electronic voice said followed by silence. Interference marred the voice, making it hard to understand.

  Ellyssa backed out of the room. “Tim. The radio. Someone is trying to contact you.”

  Abruptly, silence swept away any conversation. Less than a second later, excited words and chairs scraping across the floor answered. Rushed steps galloped toward Ellyssa.

  Tim burst into the hall first, his bald head shining with perspiration. Rein, Woody and the rest were on his heels.

  “What did they say? Did you respond?” Tim asked as he moved past Ellyssa, not giving her a chance to answer. He plopped onto the chair and started turning dials back and forth. White noise squelched. He depressed the button on the microphone. “Base One to Control. Go ahead, Control.” Static answered and Tim turned another dial.

  Rein’s hand slide into Ellyssa’s, and she turned to look at him. “What did they say?” Rein repeated Tim’s question.

  “They said, ‘Base One.’”

  “That’s our radio name,” Sarah said, excitement lighting her face in a beautiful glow. Her hand intertwined with Trista’s, whose face shone, too.