Beep-boop. Boop. Yes, I am here with yet another story. This one, though, is about (dun dunn!) UNWIND! Epic book, I tell you. UNICORNCHICKENMAGIC1000.2 told me to read it, so I did and it was AMAZING! I'm still not done it yet, but I'm almost there. Maybe another 50 pages or so… But anyway!
This story WILL NOT distract me too much from my SYOT. I just needed a break from the reapings over and over and over. Just think of it as a vacation every now and then. A break. A hiatus as they call it. And I also have extreme writers block, so yeah :/.
Reflection From A Leaky Faucet picks up a few minutes before the accident in the beginning starts. It will switch from Connor to Hessa's (my OC) POV – mainly Connor though. Oh, and in my story, Risa did not come. Let's say she was trapped in the bus because a tree fell on it or something. Same with Lev, Connor never dragged him out of the car. And the story will not follow the book. I'm twisting it to fit my view.
Anyway, here you go.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Unwind, only Hessa and any family members of hers. I also do not own Florida Orange Juice.
HESSA'S POV
The leather seats weren't as comfy as I recall them being, even though my dad's Prius + was just bought last week. They were hard and stale like old bread rotting in the sun for three years. My fingernails were bitten down to the nub and my mouth was filled with the taste of fancy nail polish. Did my mother want me to look pretty when I died? How cruel, yet thoughtful.
"Dad, can I turn on the radio?" I asked and started at the sleek black surface of the dashboard.
"No." He replied sternly, not taking his cold grey eyes off the traffic in front of him. "Dang why is there so much traffic? Hessa, dear, will you go out and see what the hold-up is? The car's not moving."
Duh, it's traffic idiot! "Just so I can get hit by a car and die like your planning for me daddy-dearest?" I mumble and cross my arms. It is true, you know.
"No, then your organs would be all smashed."
My mouth went tight, and my hair stood on end. I shuffled over the passenger seat and unlocked the door. I shut it behind me with a slam, and the harsh, hurtful click of dad locking the door behind me burns a hole right through my heart with a torch. I shoot him a nasty glare and storm past the traffic. On my way up, I start to hear police sirens blaring. My feet stop dead in their tracks. I want to keep going, but suddenly my feet felt like they weighed a hundred and fifty pounds. With all my might, and a strained force, I trudged forward. Fists held by my side, I acted as if I was leaving the harvest camp as a pound un-unwind. The sirens got louder and louder and then, I saw it.
Thousands (okay, maybe not that much) of cars all block the freeway, several crashed and broken. Dead bodies litter the insides of cars and buses. One was even crashed through a bloody window. I doubled over as my hand went straight to my mouth to keep myself from puking. Police officers and Juvey-cops all stood pointing their guns at a boy a bit older than me (by looks). Looks like another unwind has been caught. But then, I see something in that boy. Pride and courage, brave enough to make it this far with no homesickness at all. I wished I could be like him – I'd never have the courage to run away from my home. I love my family, even though their cruel blood thirsty savages. If only I had the mental and physical power to become an AWOL unwind…
Without even thinking of the consequences, I run away from my father. Blocking out the car horns of angry drivers, I leap out onto the freeway.
CONNER'S POV
Everything's a blur. Up is down, left is right, black is white. But I feel more powerful than ever. Tranquilizer darts fly by me, ones shot by bad-aimed cops. They make me laugh. I feel good, on top of the world, darting from place to place, finding escape routes for myself. But then, knocking me out of my groove, I see her.
Pale as an angel dressed in all white, she leaps out from behind a maroon sedan, and she's looking straight at me. The girl's icy blue eyes bore right into my harvestable brain, practically melting it. Her luscious white-blonde waves swung to her right in the cool autumn breeze. The moment would have been more serene, except for the fact that I was on the verge of being shipped off to a harvest camp like a piece of luggage on an airplane, and the constant blaring off police sirens.
I stand there; stick still, unsure of what to do. The tithe-like angel still stands there, fists curled, large eyes staring right at me. She doesn't even seem to mind the tons of cars honking at her to get out of the highway. My mind feels woozy; I'm so confused for a reason I don't know. Maybe it's because of the fact that she's not moving, like she's hypnotized to watch this horrific scene. We make eye contact for what seems like hours, but is only a few seconds. Suddenly I'm swept over by a tidal wave of sudden speed. My mind takes control of my movements and speeds me forward – towards the girl. Flimsy tranq darts hit angry drivers' windshields, leaving big blue splatters on them. I try to command my brain to stop, but my feet keep lunging forward, and I hurtle forward at unnatural speed (for me at least). It's like my brain is not mine, but one of a marathon runner who is also a criminal.
Hey, I just got the weirdest thought. Is it possible to get the brain of an unwind – and then be unwound? Probably, but the nurses would know. They peep at your private records. But other than that, it would pass by unnoticed.
Before I can stop myself from the chain of events unfolding both on the path behind me and the stretch to come, I'm face to face with the pale girl. Her face is contorted with fear, horror, surprise, and – for some strange twisted reason – relief. My arms take her in a bridal hold and speed off into the forest.
She pounds at my head and flails her legs around. "Let go of me! Put me down you demon! I command you to put me down! Fear me! Please someone help! This boy won't listen to me! Help!" She screams. I put her cries of despair in the back of my mind – along with the pain in my upper neck and head. For a small girl like herself she really can pack a punch.
When I'm sure we're far enough from the crime scene, I abruptly stop and set her down on the underbrush of the forest floor. The girl scrambles to her feet and looks me in the eyes. The peaceful look in them is gone, and is replaced with an utter look of hate and despise.
"What the heck is wrong with you?"" She shouts and gets in my face. "I'm going to report you to the police as a kidnapper and have you unwound!"
"You wouldn't do that!" I yell in response as she fishes around in her small yellow clutch for her phone (I'm presuming). The angel stops for a moment when she hears me speak. She blinks a couple times slowly, but then pulls out her phone. An LG Vortex by the looks of it.
Her icy cold gaze turns to me. "Just. Watch. Me." Her fingers dart across the touch screen, and then she holds the phone up to her small ear. "Hello? 911? I'm here to report a hostage–"
Looking for a hasty last resort to save my life, I do the unthinkable. I kiss her.
Our lips crash in a frenzy of hate, haste, and many other mixed emotions. I pinch my eyes shut so I don't have to see the horrified look on her face, but I peep them open just a bit. Her eyes are as wide around as the Milky Way, and as clear as the Gulf of Mexico's Florida shores. I can see my reflection in them, but it's wiggly and twisted. So it's like looking at it on a drop from a leaking faucet (A/N: Hence the title of this story :P). She doesn't move a single muscle. The only time she moves at all is to breathe and blink. That's an obvious one. When I pull away she still stands there, not even shifting her gaze the slightest little bit. The phone slips out of her grip and hit the grass with a thud. You can still hear the officer on the phone trying to get a hold of her.
"Miss? Miss please tell us your location. Hello? Hello, are you there? Please tell us your location so we can help? Hello? I'm hanging up now."
The ringer buzzes out over the still, sticky September air. The angel stirs and looks around, as if she's a dog waking up from extensive surgery. "Wait – what? Did – did…" Her gaze floats to me, and then hardens. "You! You – you – you b-word!"
"Not brave enough to say the real word?" I sneak a sly smile onto my mouth as I wipe the lip-gloss from it.
"You *******!" I'm taken aback. This tithe is feistier than I though. "Why'd you do that?"
"Do what?" I ask innocently.
"Steal my first kiss you weenie!"
"Wait – that was your first kiss?"
She crosses her arms and makes a "humph" sound. "Yeah, and it was supposed to be saved for my boyfriend! And not some kidnapper I've only known for five freaking minutes!"
I suddenly felt even guiltier than I already was. I had stolen something very special from a girl who already had a boyfriend. "Well, just think of it as a favor – saving you from your unwinding. Right?"
She turns away from me and faces a fallen fir tree. "How did you know I was an unwind?"
"You're a tithe, right?"
She stamps her foot and murmurs to herself for a moment. She then starts full-fledged yelling at me. "NO! HOW COULD YOU THINK I'M A TITHE? AM I THAT MUCH OF A SWEETIE HEART TO YOU? I DON'T THINK SO!" She rambled.
"But – the white clothes. It gives it away."
She twirls to face me. I expect her to yell, but her tone is soft and calm. "Don't stereotype. Stereotyping is bad. It's not something you should do. Just because I'm wearing white doesn't mean I'm a happy-peppy-walking-to-their-death tithe. Maybe I just wanted to look pretty."
"I'm sorry. I – I didn't really know what I was saying. Sorry. And – and you really do look pretty, you know."
Her cheeks flush cherry-red and she looks at the forest floor to hide it. But she's an epic fail.
"Uhm…umm…th-th-thank you…" She trails off. She snaps back into the fearful reality we're absorbed in quickly. "Alright, enough chit-chat. The first rule in any escape is to go back to the crime scene." She starts walking back the way we came in a diagonal fashion, but I grab her wrist hastily.
"Wait!" I shout. She tenses up and shakes my hand off her arm. "Are you insane woman? Why would we go back to the freeway? That's where all the cops are!"
"Do. Not. Call. Me. Woman." She growls. I back away quickly. "And cops never expect you to return. So they never inspect the scene. So, are you with me?" She holds out her hand pin-straight, as if she was beckoning me to shake it. I take it and give it a good shake.
"Deal."
We start running back towards the scene, dodging plants and tree limbs and other such wildlife.
"Hey," I say, ducking under a low-lying oak branch. "I'm Conner."
She dodges a holly berry shrub. "Nice to meet you Conner. I'm Hessa."
What a lovely name for such a lovely face…
HESSA'S POV
I must have the IQ of an ostrich, 'cause I still don't understand what just happened over the past hours. Nor do I really understand how we got in the back of a Florida Orange Juice shipping truck. Let me trace my steps to see what I can piece together…
I woke up this morning, did morning stuff, then came lunch time, Dad told me we were going out for lunch so I dolled myself up…umm…found out I was being unwound in the car…got sent out to examine the traffic jam, got kidnapped by a runaway unwind named Connor…uhh…went back to the crime scene, hid under the fallen truck for a while, got shooed out when lift trucks came, found a shipping truck pulled over by a cop and secretly hitched a ride in the back and…I guess that's it! Still don't really understand what just happened, but oh well. I'll find out soon.
I looked over and found Connor fast asleep on top of a stack of crated oranges. I don't know how long he's been asleep, maybe thirty minutes or so. I gather up my knees and lean my back against the chilly metal wall of the inner truck. I'm not sitting on an orange crate like Connor, they wood hurts my exposed shins – makes them irritated and itchy. I fan my hand in front of my face. Whew, it's hot in here. Or maybe it's just stuffy. Either way, I need some fresh air – and some sunlight.
I crawl over to the door, feeling my way over in the dim lighting (for some reason, there's a light bulb hanging from the ceiling). When my hands grasp the diamond-shaped handle that opens the back, I give it a haul. The door flies upward but still stays in my grasp. I expect to be bathed in the warmth and light of daytime, but instead I find darkness. Night has fallen. I'm struck by surprise. Has it really been that long since we got on the truck? Since I met him? Since I left my family behind?
There are no cars behind us, or really anywhere. So it's safe to sit down and let my legs dangle down over the bottom of the truck. They sway gently in the air that flies past us. The road is so close beneath my feet, so I let my sandals graze the top of the speeding gravel. I'm probably murdering the tread on my shoes, but I don't care. Nothing really matters in this world anymore except living. Life and preventing death for as long as humanely possible. No one should have to die at the young age of 15.
I sigh and play with the fringe on the bottom hinge of my sundress. The daisy in my hair fell out a while back, and is long gone back in the woods now. There aren't any woods for as far as I can see – only spots with low shrubbery and patches of wildflowers and skinny tree lines that line the highways on either side. Broken bottles and piece of plastic scattered across the road light up as the rear lights shine on them. The handle gets warm and sweaty under my palm, so I switch hands for a while.
I take a deep breath of icy cold air and look up at the night sky. It's a cloudy night, but flecks of twinkling stars peek out through breaks in the continuing clouds. I prop my chin up on my free hand and watch the clouds fly by. A car whizzes past us on the other side of the street, so they don't see the two AWOL unwinds hitchhiking in the back of a fruit truck.
Suddenly I feel someone grab me from behind and pull me back into the inner cargo hold. I want to scream out for help, but someone's hand clamps over my mouth. When the person stops pulling me back, I break free of his hold and swerve back to see that it's Connor.
"Connor! What the heck?" I shout and point at him. He shushes my mouth with his hand again.
"Shut up!" He whispers. "Do you want to alert the driver?"
I shake my head slowly. He removes his hand. "Why'd you pull me away from the door? I was having a good time!" I put my hands on my hips and "humph".
"Because," He says. "There's a car coming." He points at the horizon behind us and I see the dim light of a car's headlights peering over the hill we just climbed. Connor slips his way over to the door and shuts it quietly. I dig into my purse and pull out a silver cheetah print lighter, which I then lit up a millisecond later. It only provided enough light for a few feet (and enough heat for a thumb), but I could still see Connor's silhouette against the stacks of oranges. It whizzes past us slowly, the sound of it echoing and bouncing off the thin metal walls of the cargo hold.
"You hear that coming all the way away?" I ask, fascinated.
"Yeah, so what?"
I roll my eyes. "So what? That's amazing! Someone would have loved to have your ears."
"Are you saying I'm still an unwind in your eyes?" The happiness is warped from his voice.
"Well, you'll always be until you make it to 18 (if), but notice I said would have. Think before you act Mr. Lassiter."
He seems taken aback by surprise by my compliment. "Oh! Uhm…well. Someone would have loved to have your eyes."
My cheeks turn rosy again. "As if you haven't complimented me enough today."
He has pride in his statement. "Like what?"
I count off on my fingers. "Pretty name, beautiful eyes, angel, good kisser, pretty lady – "
"Okay maybe I said a lot of things!" He shout-whispers, cutting me off. "But it's all true, and you need to know that."
"Oh, stop!"
We start laughing, but we're abruptly stopped when the truck thumps as if it were going over a bridge. Connor's face looks anxious.
"What's wrong?" I ask as if I was really concerned.
"We're going over a bridge – and a long one at that. Do you know what that means?"
We go over another bump. We're off the bridge. I shake my head. "No. What?"
"It means that we're coming up on a town. Which means that there's a trucker stop nearby."
I gasp. "The trucker's going to pull over to examine his cargo!"
Connor nods as I accept the horrible truth that we might be discovered after all. "Yep. So do you know what that means?"
"No. Do I?" My voice trembles as I talk. I'm more nervous now than when I was kidnapped. Well, take that back.
"We have to jump."
"JUMP?" My scream would have woken up anyone sleeping in a three-mile radius.
"Do you wanna be unwound?" Connor whispers to me.
I shake my head again, lips tightly sealed to keep myself from screaming.
"So let's jump."
Connor scrambles over to the door and hauls it open. He gestures for me to come over. I crawl over, nervous and uncertain if I should really trust this boy. When I get there, we both stand up. I put out my lighter and stow it away back in my pocketbook as Connor scans the road in front of us for something.
"There!" He shouts. His voice is almost muted by the sound of rushing air. The force blows my hair in my eyes, half-blinding me, but I'm still able to see the thin patch of grass that runs along the road a few feet past the far left of the truck. "That's where we're gonna jump!"
"Are you sure about this?" I grab onto my biceps in fear. "I mean, we're not gonna get hurt, right?"
"Hopefully not!" He looks over at me. "Are you ready?"
"No!" I scream. It's Connor's turn to roll his eyes at me. He doesn't even reply to me, ask my opinion, or give me any soothing words. He, instead, just starts the countdown.
"Three!"
"Connor I don't wanna do this!"
"Two!"
"No! I'm scared!"
"One!"
On one, Connor wraps his arms around me in one swift motion and jumps diagonal off the back of the truck, towards the grass strip. We both impact the hard earth on our sides, but I he takes most of the punch. My breath still gets knocked out of me. Connor stands up and stretches out his muscles while I lie on the rocky terrain, gasping and trying to regain my breath.
"I just jumped off a truck…" I say, dazed. "I – I just jumped off a freaking truck. Heh, heh…"
Connor helps lift me off the ground and regain my stability. I'm a bit dizzy (okay, I'm really dizzy), but I manage to walk. We cross the other street as the truck disappears over the horizon. Connor takes off his jacket and puts it around my shoulders. I brush it off and keep walking. Connor doesn't seem to mind. He just keeps his brown eyes locked forward. But then I realize how cold it is, so I run back where it fell and put it back on, tying the sleeves around my neck so that it forms some type of stubby shawl. I cross my arms and keep walking.
Connor and me don't make eye contact. The whole way across the street we don't even share as much as a glance at each other's heads. He may have saved me from my death. He may have kissed me. He may have called me pretty. He may have helped me seek refuge on a fruit truck. He may have cushioned my fall mostly. He may have given me his jacket – and I may be wearing it. But that doesn't mean I'm befriending this boy!
We may have to form a bond between the two of us to survive, but I'm never going to fully enjoy the company of Connor.
No matter how pretty he tells me I am.
CONNOR'S POV
I twirl the daisy secretly in my pocket. I saw it get caught in a pine thistle when we were running from the Juvey-cops, and I thought it was too beautiful to be left behind. The petals are soft between my fingertips, but they're starting to shrivel up and die since they don't have any water. I look over at Hessa. Her arms are crossed across her chest and her hands grip the edges of my jacket, keeping it steady.
"Are you okay?" I ask her, leaning forward a little bit.
"Fine. Never better." She speaks in a short, clipped voice. Her eyes don't move from the grass in front of her as we walk down the side of the road. Hessa's long waves of hair are tangled up in a rat's nest and the tips are caked with dirt and bits of dried grass. But her eyes stand out like the moon on a starless night. Plus she smells like oranges. Which is always good no matter what.
"You sure?"
"Yup." She pauses for a while before saying something else. "Where are we even going?"
"I wish I could answer that myself, Hessa. I wish I could…"
END OF CHAPTER ONE
Sooooooooo…what d'ya think? Got some romantic tension building up between Hessa and Connor, am I right? Course I'm right! I wrote the story! But anyway, what are your thoughts? Please answer in the review so I can fix any problems for my next chappie!
Oh, and I finished the book! It was AWESOME! Kinda sad though. BUT GOOD! I highly recommend it for those who haven't read it. Unintentional rhyming! I love it! Eeeeeeeee! But yeah.
You'll learn more about how Hessa deals with her new lifestyle, how Connor acts towards Hessa, Hessa's real feelings towards Connor, and who Hessa's real boyfriend really is!
Until then, read, rate, review, and keep on roasting!
~EnnixiaMaeLin
