Chapter 22

Eyes closed, head hung, and a swollen face.

This is the description of me the moment after the fight and the minute explosion. The color of my face shifts between purple and blue due to the bruises covering my skin. My lips are split and cracked from the blows taken to them and my nose lies slightly crooked on my face. I'm almost positive I have a broken nose and fractured ribs.

Everything hurts. I might as well gotten hit by a bus, the way I feel. My eyes remain shut as conscious-ness slowly returns to me. I can hear everything going on around me but can't find the strength to open my eyes.

Screams fill the silent air and ring in my ears. Calyx still screams. Only this time she isn't outside the shuttle, she's inside and must be close to me. All I can hear are her screams echoing off the shuttle walls and bouncing back to echo into my mind.

"God, Bunk!" Calyx screams at him. I can feel her body writhing around as she speaks. "I don't give two shits if this gel magically heals wounds of all 'shapes and sizes'. It stings like a bitch and I will be fine with or without it!" She yells.

"Would you just hold still and quit yelling?" Casper hisses. I can tell by his tone that his eyes are narrowed and his lips are pressed firmly together.

My eyes open a tiny fraction, wide enough to see a blurry outline of Casper and Calyx bickering back and forth. Another outline, that appears to be Willow, holds Calyx down as the Nebraskan and the stranger continue exchanging her choice words.

Casper has some clear, thick substance coating his fingers and applies it onto Calyx's raw back. As my vision clears, I can see the clear gel turning a pink tint as it mixes with the blood caked upon Calyx's bare and bleeding back. Her back is completely raw, the wall having cut down to the muscle. I realize the red isn't just blood, its blood and muscle meshed together.

Hisses of pain leave her lips as she continues to curse out Casper. He ignores her harsh words as he continues to apply the gel onto her injured back.

"Look." Calyx says in between hisses and deep, shaky breaths. She is clearly in pain. "I just don't think it's a good ideEEAA!" She jerks from Casper in pain, shouting a number of curse words at him. "Ow! Son of a bitch." She groans. "Gently! Gently apply the ointment! Asshole."

"You know what?" Casper shifts so his face aligns with Calyx. "Why? Why shouldn't we trust her? Why don't you trust her? Just because she took out two Jotunn without any assistance and nearly took out a third one means she can't be trusted?"

It finally clicks that the group is talking about me. I single-handedly fought two out of three Jotunn successfully. Of course they'd view me as a possible threat.

"It does sound kind of suspicious, Cas." Avery frowns from the nearby seat she sits on. "If everything Calyx says is true, it's very suspicious. Bay could be a traitor and we would never even know."

"You're the last person I want to hear from, Redgrove." Casper snarls.

"No human should be able to survive a fight with one Warrior, yet alone multiple!" Calyx shouts.

"Calyx does have a point, Bunk!" Demetria chimes in. "Bay has never even faced a Jotunn, so how could she have possibly done so well in her first confrontation with the Warriors? Sure, the final Jotunn she had our help, but if she can take out these mutant creatures on her own, then she can take us out, too!"

As Demetria speaks, I remember why I hate her. She has always been self-centered—she looks out for herself rather than anyone else. It is always what is best for Demi, it doesn't matter what is best for anyone other than her. It must be because she is an only child and never had to concern herself with anyone else. It was and will always be just her, and that's all she cared about—just herself to look out for. Must be nice in this day and age.

"If her intentions were to harm us," Casper says, his voice starts off low and gruff, a warning tone, before it begins to escalate with each word. "She would've already done so. Why wait for so long to strike? You all know she would've already attacked if that were her intentions."

"Fine, Casper Bunk, don't listen to us." Calyx groans as she sits up, her face contorts in pain as she shifts to the upright position. For a brief moment, her topless upper half reveals itself before she grabs her nearby flannel shirt, the back of the shirt torn to shreds from the tunnel wall.

Casper steps back from Calyx and places the lid on top of the jar of ointment. My half open eyes see Casper motioning for Diego to join him, then jabs his thumb in my direction. My eyes snap shut and pretend to be knocked out cold, once again. I don't want them knowing that I overheard them talking about me and how I could be a potential threat. The less they think I know about the conversation, the better.

The conversation they had slowly begins to sink in as I process it, mulling it over in my mind. I'm a threat, am I? Because a person from the Pure State, a state of pure naivety can fight? So what if I can hold my own? Why does that make me threatening? Why do they think I would turn on them? Anger begins to boil within me as the footsteps of the two young men near me. The anger spreads like a wildfire and it takes everything within me to keep from popping my top right in that moment.

They didn't trust me. How cruel were they? Who did they think I am? Some monster, as if I am a Jotunn living outside the suit? I almost scoff at the thought. What a ridiculous assumption. Just because a girl can fight does not make her the enemy. I am not the enemy! In that moment, I know I can trust Casper because he stood his ground and stood up for me when I couldn't defend myself. I appreciate that Willow and Diego kept silent, at least. But Calyx, Demetria and Avery? My blood boils as I replay their words over and over again in my head.

"Hold her arms down, alright?" Casper says. I can sense his presence standing over my body. Their shadows dance across my eyelids.

I barely keep from flinching as Diego's small, cold fingers wrap firmly around my wrists. His hands guide my limp arms above my head and holds tightly to my wrists to restrain me. I have to remind myself that I am currently unconscious and unaware of the things going on around me. I had to keep this act up for my own safety. What I wouldn't do to confront the three women on the spot though. To surprise them with my being alert—I want to bombard them with questions about their accusations and demand answers from them. I want to burst as if I were a firecracker, hot and anxious to pop my top and go off on them.

What had happened? How long was I unconscious? Who planted these ridiculous ideas about myself into their heads? Why am I suddenly the bad guy for saving Calyx's ass? Most importantly, why did they think I posed a threat? That I am a threat? Taking out a couple Warriors wasn't that odd and out of the ordinary, is it? God, I hope not, because I don't want a target on my back for the rest of this trip from the people who brought me along with them. I need them to trust me, and I need to trust them, in return. I don't want anyone turning on me this far away from home, and this close to the truth. Hopefully the rest of the group is just as paranoid as I am in this moment, trying to find someone to take the blame.

The lid to the ointment opens with a soft clink. I focus on regulating my breathing and keeping it nice and even as if I were in a deep slumber. Breathing evenly takes practice, and I clearly didn't have enough. My breath hitches as Casper places a hand on my inner arm. He chuckles softly. I can hear his body shifting and his warm breath hitting against my ear as he whispers to me.

"You can open your eyes, if you'd like to." He says with a small, quiet laugh.

My icy blue eyes have an ice cold stare to match as I eye him suspiciously. This man can read me like a book, and I have yet to decide whether or not that's a good thing.

My look must say it all because the first thing he asks me; "How much did you hear?"

"Quite enough. Enough to know I'm pissed at three out of six of you."

"Am I in the clear?" He teases seeing that he clearly knows the answer.

"Obviously." I grunt.

His smile lessens as he understands the severity of the situation. "Bay, look."

"I'm not mad at you, and I'm sure you can guess the other two that I'm not upset with. I'm just glad you were able to stand your ground for me when I couldn't defend myself. And at least Willow and Diego kept their mouths shut, whether or not they agree with the others."

Casper sighs.

"I don't trust Calyx." I say beneath my breath.

"Well, it doesn't look like she trusts you either. Sounds like the start of a beautiful friendship." He jokes. When I don't laugh, he clears his throat and averts his gaze.

"Let's not forget that Calyx also took on the Jotunn by herself in this very train car." I remind him.

"While that might be true, look at her Bay. She's clearly been in training and is a known fighter. You, on the other hand? No offense, but you're from New York—The Pure Sate? And if you don't recall, the Pure State isn't known for combat, hell, it isn't even known for touching another human being. Touching anyone with intent to harm is illegal. So it is surprising that you fought so well. Calyx is a natural soldier, you on the other hand? Well, like I said. You're a New Yorker. Combat isn't to be expected from your state's traits."

"So what? Just because I'm from a state with pure qualities means I can't be decent in combat?" I glare at him.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

The two of us remain silent for a solid minute before he scoops out some of the gel on his index finger and brings it towards my cheek. My head jerks away from his advancing finger and my brows raise in suspicion. Casper raises his brows and looks between me and Diego.

"What now?" Casper huffs, his patience deteriorating towards me.

"What the hell is that?" I demand.

He looks at the gel on his finger and rolls his eyes. "Tactu sanitatem."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"It's Latin." Willow pipes up from behind Casper. "It means "healing touch"."

Casper gestures over his shoulder with his hand, a silent thank you towards her. "See? It's just a gel that helps seal the wounds quicker than the body can. Stings like hell but works like a charm."

His finger advances forwards once more and again I jerk my head away.

"I'm not sure I should trust you." I growl.

"Oh for the love of all things holy." He throws his hands down as if he's a toddler having a tantrum. "Diego, just hold her damn head still, for God's sake."

Diego grips my head in the palm of his hands and I scream in defiance, doing everything I can to try and break free of his grip. However, my body is weak and tired, and I don't have much fight left in me. I continue my helpless struggle as Casper's finger presses into my face, just below the cheek bone. Searing, hot pain radiates throughout my entire face instantaneously as the healing gel makes contact with my skin. Another scream, this time instead of defiance, it is a scream full of pain, it's the kind of scream that has a meaning behind it. The kind of scream that tells of a girl who not only hurts physically, but mentally and emotionally. The hurt stemming further than just an injured face, but hurt stemming back to the very beginning. The hurt the girl feels from not fitting in to her state—fitting in to those around her. The hurt she feels from being judged for what people might deem "illnesses", when in reality, it's just a part of who she is as a person. It's that kind of hurt she feels from losing her father, the hurt she feels from her own mother choosing alcohol over her own children, the hurt she feels from the life she's living, the hurt she feels for wishing she was anyone except who she was. The kind of hurt that tells a story, her story.

My back arches as my skin crawls, continuing to feel as if it's on fire. My small hands search desperately for something to hold onto, something to squeeze the life out of and relieve the pain building up. After what seems like ages—when in fact it is only seven seconds—my fingers fumble upon the hem of Casper's shirt. I ball the fabric of his shirt into my fists and focus on controlling my breathing. When the breathing technique doesn't work, I switch back to my place of comfort. I count the seconds.

One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand.

Casper's fingers are rough against my skin as he tenderly applies the healing gel to my injured face. Even though his fingers aren't pleasant to the touch, I find them rather soothing. Just like my screams, they tell a story. I wonder what Casper's story is. While his dead skin snags on my face as he works, I can't help but find comfort—a kind of peace—in his touch.

He continues the painful process on the rest of my wounds until all of them are covered in the gooey gel. I stop counting the second he screws the lid back onto the jar—five hundred seventy-seven seconds.

I'm relieved all too soon as he walks to the backpack and pulls out a brown, glass bottle, the liquid inside of it sloshing around like my uneasy stomach.

"What is that?" I query, tears staining my red cheeks.

"Peroxide." He states as he reads the bottles label. "It's an infection preventive." Casper's green eyes looks at me and he offers a shrug my way. "It was in the first aid kit."

"There is no way that's going on my skin." I growl, struggling against Diego's grip.

"It's only to help you, Bay." Diego's tone is gentle.

"I don't care." I huff.

Casper chuckles to himself as he twists the cap off of the glass bottle and pours some of the liquid into the lid as he continues reading the warning label.

"Warning," He reads aloud, "do not use near eyes." His face makes a sour expression before he shrugs once more. "Guess we'll just have to be extra careful then."

"What the hell?" I laugh nervously. "You can't be serious?"

"Oh, I'm dead serious, sweetheart." Casper grins with a wink.

He grabs out a cotton ball from the same first aid kit and soaks it in the peroxide before getting to work. Again pain sears through my face, making me feel hot and itchy, and very uncomfortable. The pain isn't as bad as the healing gel used moments earlier, but it still isn't pleasant.

After two hundred seconds, he gives my hand a light squeeze and heads over to a sleeping Calyx. Calyx lay across a row of chairs in the train-car, her back facing outward and the back of her shirt ripped open so the fabric wouldn't further irritate her back or cause her any more pain. Casper gives a nod of his head to Avery for her to come help him. She stands from her own seat and walks over to the purple-haired girl and straddles her, her hands placing themselves around Calyx's wrists so that she wouldn't thrash and hit Casper.

Bunk gently tilts the glass bottle before pouring it in a swift motion on the raw skin of her back. Calyx's eyes shoot open wide and she goes to sit up only to find herself straddled by Avery. A blood-curdling screams leaves her lips as the liquid trickles across raw, bleeding skin. Calyx thrashes wildly, pleading for Casper to stop, her pain becoming unbearable. Which says something, because Calyx is kind of a badass.

After twenty seconds of agonizing screams from the purple-headed woman, Casper finishes and screws on the lid to the almost empty bottle he holds in his hand. He places it down in a chair. Calyx sits up, her breath labored as she tries to regain her composure. Avery mutters an apology for sitting on Calyx and then stands up and goes back to the corner she originally had been sitting in. Casper glances over at me and I can tell by his face he knows something is going on, that I'm playing some scenarios over and over again in my head, and he clearly wants to clear whatever thoughts and suspicions I have. He walks over to me and sits. I avert my gaze, intently studying my blue shoes from West Virginia. My lips purse and my heartbeat fastens as he positions himself beside me.

"What all did you hear?" He asks after thirty-two seconds.

"Enough." I shrug.

"Seriously, Bay. Tell me so I can help you and clear the air." He sighs.

"I don't know if you can trust me." I say as I stand to my feet and walk away from him without another word.

+++

Willow went to the front of the shuttle to take over control since I killed our "chauffer". At the rate the shuttle moves, we would arrive in Fresno in two to three days, maybe four, tops. For now, the six of us—and Calyx—can do nothing but hope we have no more run-ins with the nine-foot tall Warriors. We hope that from here on out it'll be a smooth ride, and who knows, maybe even a relaxing ride. We could all use a nice, relaxing shuttle ride to ease our minds, especially mine. I remain on edge, feeling everyone looking at me from the corner of their eyes, judging me silently. Much like I am, they're probably playing over several scenarios over in their heads, thinking of how I might kill them because I clearly cannot be trusted. God knows if I killed three Jotunn then clearly I'm the enemy. How does that even make sense? The fact that I risked my life to save theirs makes me a bad person, makes me the enemy? Makes me the one who needs to be monitored because who knows, I might strike again, this time to the guys on my side. Such an insane idea, yet Avery, Calyx, and Demetria support this idea whole-heartedly. I could kill them all, which I suppose is exactly what they want me to do. Therefore, unfortunately, I will take the high-road and spare them and their miserable lives.

I eventually came back to sit down, and Casper and Avery sat on either side of me. I felt sandwiched in and all-together uncomfortable. I'm a ticking bomb, at this point. Say one wrong thing to me and I will explode in a fit of rage. Not one person has spoken since Calyx and I were fixed up. I'm not sure anyone knows what to even say. It's been a long day and I'm ready for it to end, now.

I couldn't even bring myself to be the bigger person and talk to my three accusers. To even look at them makes me feel sick, both physically and emotionally. They called me a traitor, if I had anything to say to them, it would be full of hatred. Even though Calyx, Avery and Demetria are assholes, I need to be smart about what I say or how I act. I suppose that's the New Yorker in me, telling me that no matter what they did to me or how they spoke about me behind my back, I should be nice, kind and considerate to them. But the other part of me realizes how badly they make me want to vomit. In this moment, I want to be angry. I want the three idiots—at least one of them—to say something so I can unleash all this pent up anger. They think I'm the bad guy? Fine, I can show them the bad guy, if they want me to be just that.

"Bay..." Avery says slowly. I can see the wheels in her head turning as she thinks out her next words.

Without waiting for her to continue her thought, without even thinking in general, I slap her as hard as I can across her face. Her face jerks to the side and a red hand print surfaces almost in an instant. Avery moves her hand up to her cheek as she looks back at me in shock.

"Bay!" Casper scolds. A scowl paints itself across his handsome features.

I blink back the fogginess of tears as I glower