Emphatic

Chapter 2 - Frozen

I bolted through the perfect looking bedroom, taking in very little detail, concentrating on my one aim. To get the hell out of that place. The one thing that caught my eye as I stopped by the door to turn the handle was a beautifully ornate statue of a man standing on a rock, looking out over what could be a plain or a waterfall. It made me think for a second, This is too human. It's an imitation. As I thought this, I remembered I too was human as I felt a little stream of hot blood trickling from a gash on my cheek, caused by the shards of glass. I shook my head, emptying it off thoughts and pushed my shoulder against the door, charging through it. I knew better than to look behind me; it would only slow me down. If I was caught again these two fallen angels would have another thing to hold against me, and this time I doubt they'd be so careless.

There were two directions I could go when I left the room, and I had no time to ponder which one to take. I could only dart to my left and hope for the best, and as I ran I felt my legs throbbing angrily and my heart pounding as if it might break through my chest. I turned a corner and came to a staircase, and although I anticipated the pain I had no choice but to take a leap down the four steps to the bottom. My legs gave way and I stumbled, falling to my knees. A sharp pain shot up from my ankles and I moaned as quietly as I could manage. My fingers scrabbled at the walls, and I hauled myself to my feet and started hobbling down the seemingly eternal hallway as fast as I could. I could only scold myself later for being so foolish.

I knew the twins would be after me by now. I could round this corner and one of them could be waiting for me. There were no hurried footsteps behind or in front of me, but I didn't stop to have a better listen. They could have been in ghost form, but I couldn't do anything but keep running. The only sound I could hear was my own rushed, heaving and shallow breath and the sounds of my work-boots thumping heavily off the elegant red carpet. Maybe I was making too much noise to hear anything, or maybe there was just nothing to hear.

There was a turn-off to the right, and I took it at a sprint, almost crashing into the opposite wall in my haste. I rounded the corner and found no one waiting for me, and I couldn't force down the feeling of hope that maybe I had made it, maybe I was free. I recognised this hallway from when we first came here, to rescue the Keymaker, where Morpheus and I had left Neo to fight off the Merovingian and his crowd of demon henchmen.

Much to my dismay, I had no time to stop and rest my now throbbing thighs, so I continued running at the only speed I could muster. I took the left marble staircase two steps at a time, limping the entire way down due to my last mistake. There was pain shooting up my entire body this time, not just my legs. I bit hard into my lip, tasting the bitter taste of my own blood, trying not to let the pain slow me down. They would be here any moment. The one feeling of hope I had had just been demolished as I moved at a hobble down the stairs. I knew my chances of escape were dismal, and they would more than likely catch me and kill me before nightfall, but I couldn't just sit back and let it happen. I couldn't be tortured. I was going to at least try to escape, even if I wasn't successful.

I saw the two wide doors standing before me, and I hoped and prayed they would be open. They were my only chance, that I could see anyway, so I knew it was worth a try. I stopped at the door, biting lightly into my lower lip in apprehension as I grabbed the door handle impatiently, so tightly that the blood ran from my knuckles turning them a yellow-white. I disobeyed the rules of escape and even my own personal laws and took a quick glance behind me, and frowned despite myself when I realised there was no one in pursuit of me. I hadn't hit him that hard, had I? While I was turning around I turned the handle, and the door thrust forwards, and despite this being what I had hoped and planned for, when I faced the enclosed courtyard my face fell.

A twin.

He stood there before me, his face twisted cruelly, a wicked smile of amusement playing on his pale grey lips. Behind him the sun was shining brightly and cheerfully, almost ironically, rubbing the situation in my face even more. I had a split second glance at the balcony we were standing on, to the left of the courtyard, and saw his brother still seeming protective of his groin, but not in quite as much pain. If I hadn't been in danger I might have felt a sense of pride. It may seem like there was a long enough time for a smart escape, but really there was none at all. That didn't stop me trying, however, and I swivelled on my heel quite painfully and attempted to bolt, only to feel two very cold, very strong hands slamming hard down on my shoulders and yanking me backwards harshly so I was pressed against the man's chest. I gasped at the pain I felt shooting once again in small lines up and down my body, sparking around my stomach and thighs especially.

"Where do you think you are going?" he asked, and I could hear from his tone that he was still grinning.

--

I lay on the icy stone floor later that night, my threadbare blanket draped over my threadbare sweater, the room so dark I couldn't make out anything in the room, which added to the chilliness of the place. My body was hurt from the abuse I had received for my escape attempt, including a bruise on my right cheekbone and around my collarbone, and a long cut starting from inside centre of my bottom lip running down to the outside just below my lip. I felt worse than I had ever felt in all of my life, and I had led a pretty dangerous one so far. The twins owed me more now after my attempt. I felt it slowly build up inside me, and fighting it was no use, so eventually a couple of tears began forming in my eyes, and a few moments later they were streaming down my cheeks and my body was racked with silent sobs.

This isn't me. This isn't Trinity, I told myself, but it was in vain. For the second time today I was breaking personal rules, rules that I had almost never broken. No one saw me cry, not even myself. I tried to keep it that way always, and I knew from personal experience that it took a lot to make me cry. Is this what I had been reduced to? I realised that the tears were not for the pain alone, though it admittedly contributed greatly to it. Neo was the only one who had seen me at the worst of times, but not even he had seen me in the state I was in that night. When I thought that he might not be there when I got back, I almost wished the twins would kill me on the spot. Anything was better than going back to an empty cabin again. I felt myself shaking more with the sorrow and fear of losing him. Unfortunately I knew though that although it took a lot to make me cry, it also took a lot to make me stop, and I often couldn't stop until I had run out of tears to cry. It took a lot to make me get into a deep state of stress, but Neo was the perfect example of a reason to lose control.

No matter how hard I tried I could not keep the thoughts of him completely out of my head. I wondered if he was still alive, if he was safe. Or was he dead? I wondered what happened that day while I lay out on the Logos, metal rods pressing my body like I was an elastic band, making me feel like I was stretched to my limits. Had the One, my One, won the battle to save humanity? Or had he been defeated? If he had, did that mean I was the single survivor of the entire human race? I gathered all my thoughts together and hoped that my normally logical mind would help me sort through my many questions and give me rational answers, even if those answers were only to make me feel better. If he had lost the battle and died then why would I be alive now? He had to survive to bring me back to life, somehow. But this clouded my mind with another question.

Why am I here instead of in his arms back at our city celebrating our victory, celebrating life, the end of the war? Was this place the equivalent of hell?

My logical mind was flustered with questions and it felt like it was completely filled with a dark, misty haze. My questions could not be answered while I lay there in a tiny box room in the middle of nowhere. I could lie there and reassure myself, be a real optimist and tell myself that everything was going to be okay. Nothing was wrong, everything was just fine. Or I could torture myself to hell and back with questions until tears started flowing at full speed down my face again. My final option was to lie like a dunce and pretend nothing was going on at all. After all, ignorance is bliss, right? Wrong. My only way of comfort would be to make sure that whatever had happened to Neo, I made sure it was not in vain. The only way to do that was to escape this off-white purgatory and run as fast as my legs would carry me. What would happen after that, I had no idea, and would have to figure out when I got to that point. Or rather, if I got to that point.

As another tear escaped my eye as I realised how hopeless this mission was, and I found the strength to roll over onto my side and face another blank wall, the irritating mattress and blankets scratching at my soft skin, I heard the bolt on the door slamming upwards and the door creaked open contrastingly gently. At first I assumed it was one of the twins, and I built a protective wall around my heart, mind and body. I wasn't going to let my upset be shown to them, they would not know they had succeeded. But as I took just a moment to think about it, I realised that the push had been just a tone too gentle, the bolt driving upwards just not confident enough to be that of an angry ghost-man. After my moment of fear and then my following moment of revelation, I realised just how much I did not want to see anyone, and I shut my eyes and willed whoever it was to go away.

But as I had almost expected, I did not hear anyone moving in either direction, towards or away from me, and the door almost didn't move at all. In fact, it sounded as if an angel had been hovering there in the doorframe, and had disappeared into thin air, at least until I heard something else.

"Trinity," a soft male voice cooed. Recognition washed over me like the swift realisation that I was not alone. I knew who it was immediately, and rolled over to face him.

"Seraph?" I called, quiet loudly and with a hoarse tone of voice. I felt like I was imagining standing there, the pain getting a little too much for my body. His white coat contrasted scarily with the darkness of the room. I didn't want to believe it was him there, but I was so happy at the sight of him that I felt like I would cry again.

"Ssh," he hushed me. "We must keep quiet. Everyone in the house is asleep."

"They sleep?" I asked in surprise, firstly finding it strange that the awful programs who had captured me actual rested. But then I had a thought that made me regret asking the question.

"Yes. Programs must rest, it is a…stand-by, so to speak. That is beside the point. You must keep quiet, no one must know I am here," he whispered softly.

I got to my feet, obeying his orders to keep quiet, and felt the pain surging through my body in deep, harsh waves. Even my teeth tingled with the power of it. I kept my mouth shut tight, biting into the skin of my cheek to keep myself from shrieking. I couldn't resist the urge to ask him a question.

"Where are we going?"

"Morpheus is waiting for us at the top of the stairs. He is guarding us. If anyone discovers us, the chances of us all escaping alive are unlikely. In fact, I fear that none of us would be able to do so," he said, almost completely ignoring my question.

We crept up the familiar, spiralling stone steps, and I had a swift flashback of the twins dragging me - much against my will - up these steps. I could almost feel their sharp, jutting edges prodding my aching back as I pulled on them and got beaten for struggling. My hips and the small of my back continually cracked off the corners of the steps as I went up that time, and every time I placed my foot on a new step now I winced with the current pain and the pain of the past.

I had so many questions to ask Morpheus when we met, and if we ever escaped. For example, why wasn't I dressed like I normally would be in the Matrix? That one completely baffled me. I ignored my other questions. I missed the Neb, her soft humming sound as she moved swiftly through the sewers, the sound of her clanking metal pipes, the echo of boots on grate, and even the disgusting goop we were used to eating. God, I was hungry.

As Seraph had described, at the top of the steps stood Morpheus, my mentor, my captain, my father figure. He smiled so softly at me, a smile of peace, gentle happiness and some sort of reconciliation. I could tell that below his placid greetings he was feeling relief at seeing me again. He suppressed his feelings, just like I did. I decided to save the hugs and welcomes for when we got back to the ship again. I didn't remember then, but I had watched the Nebuchadnezzar explode in the sewers, and I didn't even take a moment to think that we may not be on the same ship as we had been before.

As we started off up the corridor, Morpheus walked alongside us, trying to go quietly so as not to make his well-known, purposeful tread known to the household. Seraph and I needn't have worried; it seemed Seraph's light shoes and his training had taught him silence, and I was barefoot anyway. I did find it awkward to walk quietly, for every step stung like a thousand knives all slashing at my muscles and bones.

We reached the main hall, a huge and beautifully designed room with two staircases meeting in the middle. We passed the double doors that I had tried to escape through earlier in the day, and turned to walk between the staircases and through a small door. Seraph led the way through the door and a library. I wondered how he knew where we were going, almost to the extent of knowing the house by heart. I knew he had helped Neo get where he needed to go, but I did not contemplate his double purpose. I had trusted Seraph with everything only a short while ago, and now I was questioning his loyalty. He was a program, like many others. How could we trust him, when many programs seemed against us?

I pushed these questions out of my mind. Right now, my life was in his hands and I would just have to trust him with it. I had pretty much no other choice. I could of course bolt off in many chosen directions, and probably run straight into my enemies arms anyway. I chose to trust him, he had done me well in the past. The wall around my heart wasn't quite demolished, and I doubted it every would be. I found it hard to trust people, let alone programs. Neo had wormed his way through a crack in that wall, and I trusted him with everything. I trusted Morpheus, but I couldn't say he had demolished any part of that wall. I had to let my walls down now or I would inexorably die.

Seraph opened the door at the furthest end of the library and we were led into a very small study. The decorations were old, the paintings hung on the walls looked absolutely ancient. The only furniture was a small bookcase, an old desk and a wooden chair. At the far end of the tiny room - about the same size as my dungeon - was another door. We followed Seraph to the door, and he dropped a bunch of keys from the inside of his sleeve and into his palm. He pushed a key into the lock and it turned with a quiet click, and the door slid open. Through that door was one of the most amazing rooms I have ever seen.

It was an absolutely exquisite bedroom. There was a huge bed pushed against the centre of the back wall, draped with deep purple silk and surrounded by curtains. The walls were covered in paintings of beautiful women and old bookcases and a white leather sofa sat against the wall opposite the bed. It looked like no one had even been present in the room for many years. I wondered why no one slept in such an amazing room, with such silken sheets.

My mind wandered from the task at hand to the night of the Zion celebrations. Neo and I had settled down on a firm mattress, in a candlelit room, and he had made love to me slowly. The room was hot with passion, and neither of us noticed our surroundings as we moved together. The warm rock cave felt all the warmer with the heat of the moment and the sweat evaporating. Everything had an orange glow from the candle flames that were set all around us, and our bodies were distorted up the walls in shadow-form, moving at the same time as us. I thought of that night, how close we had been, and I wanted to weep.

I hadn't mentioned Neo to Morpheus yet, I hadn't asked him all the questions that I longed to ask. I desperately wanted to talk to him. In fact, ignoring gestures I hadn't spoken at all to my captain since Neo came down the ladder from our cabins on the Hammer, announcing that he needed to take a ship to the machine city. This dragged my memory back to the desperate and pitiful look on his face when Captain Roland dismissed him, rejecting his idea and practically snapping his nose off. He was the captain and he would say what went on with his ship. I got the impression that Captain Roland had some sort of dislike of Neo, perhaps because he did not believe in everything, or perhaps because he was afraid. But either way, Neo was one person he would not give his ship to. I remembered the pang I had felt in my chest when I saw the mixture of disappointment and humiliation on his face, but also felt proud whenever I realised that he wasn't going to give up on the mission just because someone had shot him down like that. Despite the running down he received, he fought on anyway. This also brought tears to my eyes, and I had to stop them from spilling down over my cheeks. I had to push all thoughts of my lover out of my head completely.

When we reached the doors on the other side of the bedroom, Seraph gently and quietly pushed them open. He had taken everything into consideration, and had worked terribly hard to get us through the Chateau without making a noise, without waking anyone up. This is why I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach when I heard that frosty voice again, this time more hushed.

"Freeze."

And on with the madness!

- PsycheSoul