Just Beyond the River
the cellar
"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" she screeched, hitting her head with both hands. The high-pitch frequency that had sounded through her head had just been the beginning before the pulsing began, this time with pain increasing tenfold.
The barman hurried over to her. "Hey, don't do that," he said, trying to grab her hands.
"It won't stop!" She didn't let him grab her hands, instead deciding to cradle her head. "Why won't it stop!"
"Is it pain? I can get you some paracetamol from upstairs--"
"No!" she exclaimed, letting go of her head to look at him. "I know they're still up there, waiting for me. I can't go back."
"Listen, if you asked for help from those men up there, they'd give it to you. There's one thing collectively hated in this town, and that's the place you escaped from. That means if anyone tries to come for you again, you won't need to run."
She was shaking her head before he had even finished. "You don't know them, not like I do. Besides, has any of them ever attempted to help us before?"
"They never knew--"
"That's not good enough!"
A silence settled between the two after that outburst and he ended up moving back away from her. Rather than going back to the other side of the cellar, he chose to sit on the wall that connected to hers. They hadn't been down there for too long but she had a feeling that her attempt at throwing them off her tracks wouldn't work. They might leave the tavern and try to seek out her tracks but eventually they'd realise that she hadn't left, and that was something she hoped wouldn't happen. Leaving the cellar would end up bad for her, no matter how long she waited.
She wrapped her arms around her torso and pressed against the wall. Escaping had been an error, she realised that, and the time it took her to detach herself and amble dazedly from the room should've been enough time for her to have been stopped. But she hadn't, and she had been able to hurry down the dark corridors, each door opening with a push, and somehow stumble across some form of clothing before she'd made her way out of the building. Not once did the lights come back on, nor did she hear any sounds from the intercom that she knew was there. She passed no guards either which had given her hope that she'd be able to have some rest in the tavern without her trail having been discovered. The whole thing had been frantic and she never once looked back. Something had gone amiss, that much was certain, but not once had she stopped to think about what it could have been.
"That name the guy called you, is that your name?" the barman asked suddenly. She shook her head but made no attempt to answer. "My name's Phil. I only moved here because my dad was originally from here but moved when he was a kid because of certain events that occurred."
"He lost a sibling," she provided quietly.
"Yeah, come to think of it." He frowned and leant his head against the wall. "I always though he meant that his brother had died, 'cos he always mentioned that they'd lost him and well, you lose a love one, don't you? But now..." He trailed off, making her look over to him. The expression on his face made her sigh and bow her head.
"They..." she began, stopping when it became hard to speak. "It was mentioned that my...my purpose had been tested over fifty times before. It was never specified in so many words, but the failure of it meant that they'd all died. I hope that your dad's brother never got taken."
"Speaking of - and forgive me if I'm too pushy, okay? - but how can you last remember it being 2012? It's 2038 now which would mean that somehow you've missed twenty six years and yet haven't aged a bit? That just sounds too bizarre to even begin to be the truth. Can't be time travel, can it?"
She suddenly brought her hand to the side of her head and began to tap her fingers hard, wanting the pain to go away. "I don't know," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. "There was a lot of preparing, of tests and trials and just so much pain, and I just don't know!" She rose to her feet and held her head as she paced, trying to resist the urge to bash her head against the wall.
"Are you sure--?"
"You can't go upstairs!" she shrieked before he was finished, digging her nails into the side of her head. "I can't go back. I won't go back."
"Okay, okay, was only asking," he protested, running a hand through his hair. "You just look like you're in a lot of pain. Maybe talk about something else might be best? That way you're not focusing on all...that?"
She remained standing for a few moments longer before she sat in the same spot as before, her head now resting on her knees. "My name's Brialla, but it was always shortened to Briar. I don't know where we are but I'm from...I'm from...." She stopped, scrunching her eyebrows up in frustration. "My name is Briar and I'm from..." But she couldn't finish the sentence once more.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"I don't," she said, tapping her forehead, "know things. I should, shouldn't I? I should know where I'm from but all I can think of is nothing - there is nothing there. My name is Briar, I was taken when I was six years old and I think I am sixteen. I have a mother called...Georgette and a father called...called...see! I can't remember. It's just not there but I know it was, it should be, but I can't remember!"
"You're probably overwhelmed," he reasoned. "And you're scared, so that's probably why you can't remember everything."
"No!" she exclaimed, raising her head to look at him. "You don't just--I won't just forget something like that, I just can't. They've done something, something to make me forget and put me all these years in the future but I just don't know!"
A bleeping sounded through the room that made her jump and she watched with cautious eyes as he fiddled with his watch before it stopped. "It's midnight," he said, holding his wrist up. "Could never work out how to turn it off."
She gave her head one last hard tap before she rose to her feet. "Now's the time," she said. "He was never around at night so I should have until daylight to get moving."
Without looking to see whether he was following her, she began to climb the steps.
The barman hurried over to her. "Hey, don't do that," he said, trying to grab her hands.
"It won't stop!" She didn't let him grab her hands, instead deciding to cradle her head. "Why won't it stop!"
"Is it pain? I can get you some paracetamol from upstairs--"
"No!" she exclaimed, letting go of her head to look at him. "I know they're still up there, waiting for me. I can't go back."
"Listen, if you asked for help from those men up there, they'd give it to you. There's one thing collectively hated in this town, and that's the place you escaped from. That means if anyone tries to come for you again, you won't need to run."
She was shaking her head before he had even finished. "You don't know them, not like I do. Besides, has any of them ever attempted to help us before?"
"They never knew--"
"That's not good enough!"
A silence settled between the two after that outburst and he ended up moving back away from her. Rather than going back to the other side of the cellar, he chose to sit on the wall that connected to hers. They hadn't been down there for too long but she had a feeling that her attempt at throwing them off her tracks wouldn't work. They might leave the tavern and try to seek out her tracks but eventually they'd realise that she hadn't left, and that was something she hoped wouldn't happen. Leaving the cellar would end up bad for her, no matter how long she waited.
She wrapped her arms around her torso and pressed against the wall. Escaping had been an error, she realised that, and the time it took her to detach herself and amble dazedly from the room should've been enough time for her to have been stopped. But she hadn't, and she had been able to hurry down the dark corridors, each door opening with a push, and somehow stumble across some form of clothing before she'd made her way out of the building. Not once did the lights come back on, nor did she hear any sounds from the intercom that she knew was there. She passed no guards either which had given her hope that she'd be able to have some rest in the tavern without her trail having been discovered. The whole thing had been frantic and she never once looked back. Something had gone amiss, that much was certain, but not once had she stopped to think about what it could have been.
"That name the guy called you, is that your name?" the barman asked suddenly. She shook her head but made no attempt to answer. "My name's Phil. I only moved here because my dad was originally from here but moved when he was a kid because of certain events that occurred."
"He lost a sibling," she provided quietly.
"Yeah, come to think of it." He frowned and leant his head against the wall. "I always though he meant that his brother had died, 'cos he always mentioned that they'd lost him and well, you lose a love one, don't you? But now..." He trailed off, making her look over to him. The expression on his face made her sigh and bow her head.
"They..." she began, stopping when it became hard to speak. "It was mentioned that my...my purpose had been tested over fifty times before. It was never specified in so many words, but the failure of it meant that they'd all died. I hope that your dad's brother never got taken."
"Speaking of - and forgive me if I'm too pushy, okay? - but how can you last remember it being 2012? It's 2038 now which would mean that somehow you've missed twenty six years and yet haven't aged a bit? That just sounds too bizarre to even begin to be the truth. Can't be time travel, can it?"
She suddenly brought her hand to the side of her head and began to tap her fingers hard, wanting the pain to go away. "I don't know," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. "There was a lot of preparing, of tests and trials and just so much pain, and I just don't know!" She rose to her feet and held her head as she paced, trying to resist the urge to bash her head against the wall.
"Are you sure--?"
"You can't go upstairs!" she shrieked before he was finished, digging her nails into the side of her head. "I can't go back. I won't go back."
"Okay, okay, was only asking," he protested, running a hand through his hair. "You just look like you're in a lot of pain. Maybe talk about something else might be best? That way you're not focusing on all...that?"
She remained standing for a few moments longer before she sat in the same spot as before, her head now resting on her knees. "My name's Brialla, but it was always shortened to Briar. I don't know where we are but I'm from...I'm from...." She stopped, scrunching her eyebrows up in frustration. "My name is Briar and I'm from..." But she couldn't finish the sentence once more.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"I don't," she said, tapping her forehead, "know things. I should, shouldn't I? I should know where I'm from but all I can think of is nothing - there is nothing there. My name is Briar, I was taken when I was six years old and I think I am sixteen. I have a mother called...Georgette and a father called...called...see! I can't remember. It's just not there but I know it was, it should be, but I can't remember!"
"You're probably overwhelmed," he reasoned. "And you're scared, so that's probably why you can't remember everything."
"No!" she exclaimed, raising her head to look at him. "You don't just--I won't just forget something like that, I just can't. They've done something, something to make me forget and put me all these years in the future but I just don't know!"
A bleeping sounded through the room that made her jump and she watched with cautious eyes as he fiddled with his watch before it stopped. "It's midnight," he said, holding his wrist up. "Could never work out how to turn it off."
She gave her head one last hard tap before she rose to her feet. "Now's the time," she said. "He was never around at night so I should have until daylight to get moving."
Without looking to see whether he was following her, she began to climb the steps.