Page 18 of Polar Fates
“Victims recognise each other,” he whisperssadly.
“I’m not a victim,” I protest and hesmiles.
“No, you’re not. Neither am I. We don’t let ourselves be made a victim. We’re survivors. But that doesn’t mean everything isfine.”
“Nobody’s life is fine. The Drowning took that away from us. Even children born today have a shit life. They’ll never have the life they could have had in the old world. They’ll never be properly educated, they’ll never have proper medical care, they’ll have to learn to cope with death much earlier than theyshould...”
My voice chokes. I shouldn’t be this upset. The Drowning happened when I was a child; I’ve lived longer in the broken world than I did in the one before. I know most of the pre-Drowning from books, pictures and tales. Us children looked forward to when people on Salvation Island got drunk and would tell us about what life was like. A lot of their stories weren’t meant for children’s ears, but that’s precisely why we loved them. They were gritty, sad, terrible, violent. A lot of the people living on Salvation Island didn’t have good lives even before the Drowning. That’s probably why my uncle found it so easy to indoctrinate them. They were on the lookout for someone to lead them, to tell them that everything was going to be alright. And that’s what he did. Not that his promises ever came true. But he always had excuses. People didn’t work hard enough. There were traitors in their midst. The women were too opinionated. The old used up valuable resources. He always knew who was to blame - and it was never him. Of course not. He was the leader of the island, both politically andspiritually.
When I was a teenager, I came across the word ‘cult’ for the first time. I was reading a dictionary... yes, that’s how boring my life was and how desperate I was for knowledge. When I read the definition, I knew my uncle had created a cult. “A social group defined by its religious, spiritual, or philosophical beliefs, or its common interest in a particular personality, object or goal” - that was exactly what he was doing. It had nothing to do with religion - the people living on Salvation Island weren’t the religious type. They wanted absolution, safety and order. And that’s exactly what he was giving them. Especiallyorder.
There were rules for everything. Some people found that reassuring; for me, it was hell. Many of the rules referred to what women were allowed to do. Or not, in most cases. We weren’t allowed to talk to single men, or meet in large groups, or talk back to a man. I think my uncle had some kind of insecurity towards women, so he suppressed them. With most people on the island being men, it was easy for him to get those rulesenforced.
As his niece, I had a few advantages. He couldn’t give me public punishments too often; that would have looked as if he didn’t have me under control. And while he did a lot of his punishments indoors, he couldn’t have any signs of them show or people would have noticed. Bruises had to stay beneath my clothes. Handy that he didn’t allow us to wear revealing clothes in the first place. Luckyhim.
“You’re crying,” Ràn says softly, ripping me out of mymemories.
I am? I touch my cheeks. They’re wet with tears. Damn it. I shouldn’t be so emotional. It’s long ago. I’m away from there now. I should be focussing on the portal, on ourmission...
“What can I do to help?” he asks, gently wiping away my tears. That makes me cry even more. Such a lovinggesture.
“Kissme?”
We both laugh. I tried that before and it didn’t work. He doesn’t let himself be distracted this time,either.
“No kisses until you tell me what’s bothering you. I don’t like seeing you thissad.”
“I’m not sad,” I whisper. “I’mangry.”
“Who do I need to kill?” He’s smiling but there’s a dangerous tone to his voice. Now that we’re bonded, there’s not much we wouldn’t do to keep each othersafe.
“No killing. If I managed not to kill him, you’re not allowed toeither.”
My tears end thinking of how I almost killed him once. I was so close. The knife was in my hands. But then I didn’t. And I still don’t know if that was the right decision. Does that make me a bad person? An almost-murderer?
“So it’s ahim?”
“Kissme?”
This time, he doesn’t smile. Which is making meangry.
“You said I didn’t have to tell you. That you’d give me time! So why are you suddenly starting to interrogateme?”
I’m getting louder and at the same time annoyed at myself for losing mytemper.
His shoulders sag and he takes his hands off my cheeks. I didn’t even notice how comforting that was until he stopped touchingme.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pressure you like that. But... please know that I’m always ready to listen.” He sighs. “And from my own experience, I know how good it feels to get rid of some of the crap that’s accumulated in yourbrain.”
He takes a step back. “I’ll be here for you.Always.”
My anger disappears in an instant. I close the distance between us and put my hands on hisshoulders.
“I know that. Thankyou.”
He smiles. “Kissme?”
I can’t help it, I have to laugh. Suddenly, the table haveturned.
