CROSS MY HEART // dystopian romance

6. the key to unlock

Taking a shower felt cathartic. I'm clean, I feel clean. I'm warm. My hair is is dry now, and it smells like cinnamon shampoo. The mother who once lived here was about my size, luckily. I picked some bootcut jeans, a tight long-sleeved teeshirt too short for me and a black hoodie. I kept my black high-converse.

It's only when I'm ready to go downstairs, that a stroke of panic runs down my spine. I touch my collarbone : my necklace is gone. My key. They've taken my key to the bunker. It can only open with this very specific key. Shit.

I rush down the stairs, blood boiling under my skin. "Where's my key ?" I yell, obsessed with the idea of getting it back.

I stop in front of them, all looking at me in the living room. Big Ben's scalp almost touches the ceiling, as he stands there in the middle of the room. A girl is sitting at the dinner table with a little boy, which I can only assume is Mihan.

At the other side of the room, a man is sitting lazily, elbow rested on one knee brought up. He has a green military uniform, but the jacket is missing. His top is just a fitted dark army green tee shirt with short sleeves.
Dark-haired, mid twenties, a long silvery scar going from the side of his chin, stopping to below the eye, then ending right above the left eyebrow. No hesitation on who that is.

"Where's my key ?" It wasn't so much of a question. More of an order. I notice one of my knives on the counter, and grab it abruptly.

"You mean this key ?" Elan Turner — or Scar —speaks arrogantly with a british accent that throws me off, as the necklace hangs from his fingers. "What's it for ?"

"Give it to me." I say carefully, fuming.

"Not until you tell us what it opens." he stands up, and walks slowly towards me, step by step. He's way taller than me, but I'll take my chances. "Food reserve ? Secret refuge ? Tell us, and maybe... we won't keep it. Maybe." he continues.

"I don't have anything. It's just an old key." I lie through my teeth.

"Liar. It's got to open someplace you're staying at. Something of value, if you want it back so badly."

This is my last straw. It's my key, my bunker. My own mother had it made for us, it belongs to our family. It's the only thing I have left from them. I need it back. I lash out at him, and I pin him to the wall with my forearm pressed against his collarbone. My knife is pressed against his throat, and I look up at him with all the anger I have.

Big Ben walks up to us to intervene, but he stops short when Turner brushes him off in a hand raise.

"Leave it." he says simply. He waves the key necklace up above his head. "What does it open ?" He insists, his expression serious and intense.

"It's none of your business." I fume, our faces now so close I can feel his breath on my forehead.

"Sure is. Like the provisions you've collected for us in your backpack. Thank you for that, by the way." His eyes are dark brown, nearly black. Intimidating. Infuriating.

I move my knife to his torso, as my breath grows heavier. My gaze drops to the placement of his heart, and the pointy end of my blade is pressed against his slowly rising and falling chest.

"Thinking about carving my heart open, Heart-slayer ?" he mumbles in a low, quiet voice, just for me to hear.

"I don't know Turner, you tell me. Wanna get another scar ?" I spell every word carefully, defying him.

He stares at me all smug, with a stupid mischievous smirk on his face. That is not how I expected him to react. At all. And then, he gives my key.

They let me take my stuff, and leave. The streets are clear now. I don't talk to young Mihan, or any of them. I just leave, knife in hand.