The first week after I sent Onyx away passed achingly slowly.

I would wake up indifferent, catch sight of the freshly painted walls of my home and smile at the remembrance of the painting process, reliving those hours we had spent together. Then I would remember that Onyx was gone forever, that it was my fault and the crushing weight of my loneliness would return, colouring my blank days with dark regrets and impossible futures. Some days I laboured under the weight, determined to build a greenhouse and a bed before winter, other days I floated through, imagining different outcomes and wondering what the point of my whole struggle had been now that I was left on my own again.

I tried to stop myself from watching the woodland for his familiar silhouette, scolded my unconscious mind when I jolted awake in the night convinced that some old shadow was him, that he had come back for me. It wasn’t coming true and the price of these moments of hope was too great, the hurt doubled each time the dream was over.

As the weeks wore on my awareness of my loneliness became a less stifling presence in my waking hours fading to a constant hum in the background. I regained some of my old practicality, Onyx might have planned to protect me but I knew I needed to forget that promise and look after myself. I was a survivor, it was all I knew how to do.

With my garden in crop and the weather warm it was fall again before I saw another human. I hadn’t seen the need to risk going to town and in my isolation I’d almost begun to imagine myself the last human on earth. Until one day I wasn’t.

There on the dirt track were a group of people, red, green and yellow mixed together and behind them a flicker of black.

My heart pounded.

But as the figures spread out and approached me I realised the shadow was not Onyx, a heavier set man wore the familiar robes, and my excitement began to turn into fear.

I backed towards my home, gripping the old spade I was carrying tightly though I knew it couldn’t protect me against so many. I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

The group paused a few metres away a and from their ranks stepped a single red figure. The mayor, I remembered his speeches at school but couldn’t remember his name.

His voice was as I remembered, as plummy and rich as the fabric of his well cut suit.

‘Miss Bleach? I’m Mayor Burgundy’ he extended his hand. I just looked at it, the smooth curve of his clean nails so different from the blunt, grimy finish that my hands usually boasted. He just seemed so alien in this environment away from the neat municipal surroundings that he was normally pictured in.

The group behind me shuffled uncomfortably at my small act of defiance. But I was unshakeable, from somewhere I had gathered a mask of indifference which was shielding the terror in my heart.

‘What do you want?’ I asked, my tone was flat.

I saw a flicker of doubt in the mayors eyes and knew I had surprised him but ever the professional he rallied.

‘Miss Bleach, it has been drawn to our attention that you have experienced some…. Misfortunes… recently and so a few members of our public services wish to check you are as you should be.’ Behind him I saw a glance pass between two green police officers, one of whom I recognised from my last “inspection”, and was relieved that the cellar was sealed and the house entirely whitewashed. The mayor continued.

‘While the officers inspect your property I would like you to speak to a couple of members of other town committees, we realise you have become rather separated from the community and we are trying to find a way to remedy that.’

With no further introduction the greens peeled away from the group and made for my door, pushing inside roughly and clattering through my possessions. The absence of smashing sounds was a relief and while still trying to hold my nerve I realised that the sham diplomacy of their mission would prevent the wholesale destruction of my home.

For want of a better seating arrangement the mayor gestured awkwardly to the old foundation which festered nearby and those of us left outside went and sat in an uncomfortable group, faces displaying shades of distrust, nonchalance and in my case, blankness.

The representative if the Black a Order spoke up first, his voice deep and unruffled.

‘Are you happy here Miss Bleach?’ he asked.

Of all the questions I was expecting and was prepared to answer this was not one I had considered. It took every ounce of my self control not to react.

‘I’m not unhappy,’ was my answer.

The dark figure nodded, turning slightly to the Mayor who took up the questioning while the yellows watched carefully, one of them making notes in a primrose coloured notebook.

‘Well that’s good. The problem is there are some people in town who are not so happy about your being here and they’re getting a little… Reckless.’

I shrugged.

‘That is a shame sir but I try to keep to myself, I’m not interested in any trouble, I just get on with my life and stay away from town whenever I can.’

My answer seemed to please the assembled group before they were momentarily distracted by the return of the greens whose subtle yet vehement thumbs down I assumed meant they hadn’t found anything to justify my immediate arrest. With that settled the Mayor spoke again with more confidence.

‘Miss Bleach, while we much appreciate your responsible citizenship we at the Town Senate feel that your continued isolation in combination with your… abnormal colour situation, is creating an air of menace and mystery which is detrimental to the peace and harmony of the town.

My green colleagues have confirmed that your dwelling while legal is lacking in the fundamental utilities. In short the Town Senate now has a responsibility to ensure you do not suffer unduly as a result of unfit habitation but you also have a responsibility to work with us towards soothing the unrest in town which relates to you.

We would like to restor- I mean… supply, electricity and plumbing to your home and to work with you to reinforce the by-laws of the town with you as a part of it. What do you say?’

I struggled to discern the true question beneath all the politics in his statement. They were offering to make my home truly habitable, that much I understood, but I couldn’t quite work out what they wanted in return. They wanted me, or rather my colour, to stop stirring up uncertainty in the town and thought the answer was forcing me into the public eye? Had they not witnessed my desperate winter of scavenging, seen the disgust that ran so deeply in most of the town’s inhabitants? How could they possibly think that I could help them? And what were the yellows doing there, neither of them had said a word!

I absent-mindedly rubbed my scar with my thumb, the familiar smoothness of the moon shape helping to calm me down. I saw the man from Black Order follow my motion and for a second it seemed his eyes widened, a reaction I might have missed had I not been familiar with it on Onyx, before my attention was snapped back to the mayor who had taken my silence as an agreement.

‘Excellent. That’s all we need for now Miss Bleach. The Black Order will liaise with my cabinet to manage your integration. We will be in touch.’  And as quickly as they had appeared they were all gone.

I drifted back to my house in a daze, trying to process what had just happened and what was going to happen. How could I fit into their world, white didn’t have a place and the presence of the yellows, whether they were teachers or scientist I did not know, made me fear that they would try to change or manipulate me somehow.

And then there was the thing with my scar, it had been an instant but I could have sworn that the black man knew something about it.

As I made it to my front door the worries and suppressed fear finally overcame the adrenaline and overwhelmed me. My body shook and I crumpled to the ground my vision so blurry with tears that I barely noticed the dark shape until it was upon me. A familiar figure at my door just when I needed him.

Onyx let himself in and wordlessly folded me into his chest, letting me sob out all of my fear and uncertainty without judgement or any need for an explanation. I cried until I was exhausted and as the tears dried, much as I wanted to make the most of this stolen moment, I drifted off to sleep.

 

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Read on – Chapter 8 – A World Rewritten