Until Death Do Us Apart

The Day When It All Begins

Present day:

I hear myself chuckle in disbelief. Someone has mispronounced my name. AGAIN. Wait a minute. I thought I had misheard what I’ve just heard a minute ago.

What the hell? Nope. This is not happening.

Oh, no. Couldn’t you have picked any other place, preferably in some tombs or underground or even better, a different Universe? Everyone is just staring at me.

Please don’t. No. No. No.

I can almost read their thoughts. How could you, you fat pig. You should know your place by now. Disgusting. This must be a huge mistake. If looks could kill I’d be dead maybe let’s say… 200 times?

I don’t even try to look surprised. I’m petrified. I don’t want any of this. I want my comfort zone, my privacy back. I was perfectly satisfied with being unknown. I have everyone’s attention now.

Lucky me.

OK, here we go. I won’t get this solved by standing here. I must step forward. Even though my legs work perfectly most of the time I think I might have caught a jelly illness. Yep. I’m having a trouble. My legs have turned into jelly. If I hadn’t been surrounded by all those people I’d have burst into laugh. I look at their faces. No one is smiling. Everyone has run out of their usual humour and their faces are pale. How unfortunate. My legs start to work again. I move slowly towards the man who has called my name.

No one believes it. Even the man looks a bit unsure for a minute. He watches everyone with the deadliest eyes I’ve ever seen (and I have seen many of those lately).

He’s very hot though. I just realize every girl’s eyes in his reach are hooked on him. His ebony hair frames his face. His broad shoulders, muscly figure and his tallness and scares everyone off. Even great bullies are not as confident as usual. With his muscles and also with his weapons, which he carries, he acknowledges his superiority. Knives, guns are visible and other tools are probably (most likely) hidden well.

“Are you…” He looks at the paper he’s holding. “Miss Jaro… Svou…”

Of course, he has troubles with the pronunciation. Everyone does. He tries it for the second time.

“Jaroslava Svobo…”

Even though he despises me, he looks at me for little help. This is a precious moment I’ll save in my memory for later, when I’m standing not confident enough in front of all powerful people.

“Yaroslava Svobodova. Yara will simply do,” I announce with confidence.

I might be shy, but when it comes to my name, I feel somehow proud at it. It’s like a legacy of my ancestors. I may be ashamed of everything else, but not of my name. And before you ask, no, I am not Russian (this may really piss off all other Slavic people – you presuming that he or she is always Russian). Just because other Slav languages may sound to you like Russian, it doesn’t mean they are .

The man with deadly eyes seems already pissed off. His eyebrows narrow and his eyes send few cold looks to mine.

“Well, follow me,” his words are cold and reserved, and full of hatred.

He shows me his back and I must follow his lead. That’s the rule. I silently sigh.

Wait a minute, this was rather awkward intro. Let me start again. I’ll give you more details about myself and about how I ended up exactly where I am right now – in this mess.

Hey, this is me. I’m Jaroslava Svobodová. Yara will do. I’m an average person. I grew up in the Czech Republic (that is why my English is not always perfect, because it’s not my native language, so please turn a blind eye to all my mistakes). All I can remember was the orphanage where I spent my first 18 years and I should also mention the schools I attended. Having second thoughts, this may not be a great idea.

I’m rather tall (at least this is what everybody tells me. You can be the judge yourself.). I’m 180 cm (5 feet 10 inches) tall. I have a long brownish hair and blue eyes. I’m not skinny and pretty as the models you see in magazines. I’d say I’m a plus size (which is not a big deal. However, when people around you are skinny, sexy, have seductive looks with not even trying… then it’s hard). I’ve been mocked for my body for my whole life (I know it happens to lot of people, but it still doesn’t make it easier). Tlusté prase (Fat pig) – that’s how they called me.

I’ve just wanted to changed my life and that’s why I had applied for studying at this Mysterious university. Whoever graduated from this university would always receive a decent job. Somehow, I have been accepted (I was lucky at the entrance exams) even though this place was for wealthy and posh people only.

But enough of memories, I need to concentrate now. The man with deadliest eyes awaits.

I’m standing in front of the door. Suddenly, I feel dizzy. I have been in the principal office once when accepted to this institution. It is not very common to go and see the headmaster. Only two possible reasons can get you to there – a reward or a punishment.

My guide gallantly opens the door for me. He’s still fully armed.

Did I mention he looks hot in his leather jacket?

He’s taller than me. His blue piercing eyes are like ocean and his ebony hair…Yara, stop it! Concentrate! He doesn’t give me any look while waiting patiently until I’m in. I’m quite astonished, but I don’t say a word. Everyone in the room stares at me. Again! Am I some kind of abomination? I want to scream.

There is an empty seat in the middle. I don’t want to sit down. I don’t want to obey any of their stupid rules any more. I was humiliated behind the walls of this institution more times than I was back in the Czech Republic. In fact, these were small things compared to what is happening here on a daily basis.

The very first thing which I had learnt here was either you become strong (mentally and physically) or you’ll die. There aren’t that many people who would just let you live your life peacefully. I tried to be as invisible as possible, but this hasn’t helped much either.

“Are you Jaro…” I hear someone mispronouncing my name again.

L.O.L. No to snad ne. They’re never going to learn it.

“Yes, she is. She is Yaroslava Svobhodhovah,” Leather-jacket announces it with well-hidden despise in his voice. He puts an end to all their attempts to pronounce my name. I don’t know what his rank is, but he can clearly speak openly with all the superiors as they’re his equals (This is not that common for this institution too. Everyone usually shows his or her superiority here, but not their submissiveness).

I’m trying to save the moment. “Yara will simply do.” They all turn to me.

This was not a good idea.

“You will not speak unless you’re asked! Understood?” the headmaster speaks loudly. Even though he looks a bit old his voice is still filled with strength. “Understood?” he repeats his question. I nod in answer.

“We have ten people who applied for the special training,” the woman which was at my interview in Prague attempts to start a conversation. I still don’t know her name.

“You must be joking?” Leather-jacket rises his voice again. “Only ten people?” he raises his eyebrows.

“I presume it is caused by the death rate and its high percentage, which you have in your program,” she replies fiercely. He is pleased neither with her answer nor her tone.

“So you support cowards?” he smirks.

“It is not my fault they don’t sign up for the training!” she sighs in despair.

“It is your fault! You should encourage them in the first place. It should be their dream, their goal, and their whole life.” He’s almost screaming at her.

I cannot believe it. I have never seen the headmaster and the others speaking so humbly. And now, they openly show their submissiveness. They look even frightened. This can’t be good.

Who are you, Leather-jacket?

“I’m not responsible for their unwillingness. Your standards are also very high. The blood levels you require for entering the program are not that common anymore. They’re much harder to find. Almost no one has them. People are simply not born to accept the mark.” She says quietly and suddenly she regrets the words leaving her mouth.

He’s furious and I’m glad I don’t have to face his rage, because he stands next to me. I have the impression I don’t belong here. It seems more like a private conversation than an open debate. I don’t understand why I’m even here. This is clearly not about me.

“It’s not my problem! You’re the institution! You’re supposed to come up with at least five suitable warriors and not with one obese –“ he pauses while thinking “– duck.”

Excuse me? What did you just call me? Are you serious? Co si to do háje dovoluješ? What are you? A God? You can be hot like hell, but this doesn’t give you the right. Few extra kilos don’t make me an obese duck,

“You moron.” Wait, oh no… did I just say it out loud? Oh, God.

All eyes are suddenly hooked on me. I can see the relief of the woman of not being the target anymore. I’m the enemy number one in this room now. Can it get any worse?

“What did you just say?” Leather-jacket speaks to me and he’s consumed by anger. It just did.

I may not fully understand the consequences when my mouth opens again, but I don’t regret it.

“You moron! Haven’t they taught you how to behave?” I’m usually lowering my head down.

What the heck is wrong with me?

I can’t recognize my voice. Most of the time, it’s pleasant and not as cold as ice. I can see he isn’t used to someone defying him. His blood boils underneath the skin.

“First, you nodded to not saying anything unless asked, and yet, you spoke. Either you are dumb and have a death wish, or you can’t keep your word.” He spits the words like poison. “Second, my manners are completely fine. I was just describing the reality and talking about you as an obese duck shouldn’t really upset you, because it’s truth. Actually, calling you an obese duck should be an honour for you, I could have called you much worse. Third, don’t try my patience, because right now I’m not in the mood, so shut YOUR mouth and do not speak, unless asked! Am I clear?” He almost shouts at me.

I want to punch him. I don’t lower my eyes, I’m too angry for that. I am mesmerized by the shelf which gives me an option to not to lower my look and not to start any other debate. His words hurt, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of me crying right now. I’m too proud for that. There’ll be plenty of time to do that later.

He suddenly realizes there is an unresolved situation. “Show me the test results!” he commands firmly. In the next second he holds the papers. As he scans them with his eyes carefully, he finally sighs in exasperation. “This time, I’ll take only Yaroslava, but I won’t be that lenient next time!”

“You what?” I suddenly exclaim and they seem surprised. “Can somebody tell me what’s going on? I won’t go anywhere with you” I cross my arms for underlining my statement.

“You’ve applied for the program, there’s no way back now!” he says wickedly.

“I haven’t applied for anything!” I realize how desperate I sound, but it’s true. I haven’t asked for any of this; I haven’t signed or handed anything to anyone. I’m not mad. I’ve heard of this before and I know few people who entered the program. They have nice marble graves with golden inscriptions at the local cemetery now, and sometimes, they get flowers too.

Who could have done this? This is not even funny anymore.

“See this,” he shows me the paper, “this is your signature. You’re a part of the program now, whether you want it or not!”

“It is NOT my signature! I’ve been set up!” I sigh while looking for help, but others are too concerned to save their own asses. They’re clearly not interested in me. As long as Leather-jacket takes me, they’re safe.

“It doesn’t matter. Whether you like it or not, you’ll go with me.” He’s dead serious. There is no despise, no joke, no tease, no insult in his words. It’s a simple statement and I can’t change a thing about it.

“And if I refuse?” I try it for the last time.

“Then you won’t live to tell the tale. You know a lot by now and there is no way to make you forget. You’re risk for our society.” He wants to continue, but I’m not going to let him finish his words.

“Oh! For God’s sake! I’ve been here for thirteen months. I’ve learnt basics of IT, fighting and other stuff. Do you really believe that this OBESE DUCK would be a risk?” I point to myself. “My abilities are not special, in fact, they’re below the average! Just ask them!” I shout at him not even trying to control myself.

He seems to be amused.

What the heck are you laughing at?

“Dear Yara, unless you want to die in the exact spot you’re standing, you have no other choice than to go with me. You can kill me, but I don’t think your below-the-average skills will be enough. You don’t possess the powers to stop me.” No one says a thing. It looks like he owns them all. I have seen enough by now and I know he isn’t joking. He laughs at my face openly and I want to smash his annoying look– the look of an easy victory – to pieces. Oh my, I hate him already.

“Well, I’m glad there aren’t any other objections. I’ll accompany you to your room.” I can’t believe what I’ve just heard. He once more opens the door for me and the idea of him not knowing how to behave crosses my mind. He notices that and I feel suddenly uneasy. I don’t like having being read like an open book.

As we’re walking though the corridors, people stare at us (especially at me). The looks are full of hatred, but no one dares to look me in the eyes.

Cowards!

I feel like Leather-jacket is responsible for all this.

We’re standing in front of my room. I open it with the key. While I’m entering, he follows me into the room. I stare at him in disbelief. “I don’t want you to try anything stupid. I’ll watch while you’ll be packing your things.

Hell no! You’ll do no such thing!

 “Leave me alone!” I almost scream. “I won’t pack my underwear and other personal stuff while you’re watching!” I want to keep the rest of my dignity if nothing else. “Sakra! Běž pryč!” I know he doesn’t understand me and that improves my mood immediately.

He starts to laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested,” he snorts.

“I won’t disappear or run away, I promise,” I sigh tiredly, “but please, get out now. I want to be alone for a while.” Something in my voice persuades him.

“You have 15 minutes,” he announces when closing the door. I’m not even trying to defy him and negotiate a compromise. I pack my stuff. There aren’t many things. I have the same amount as I had when I first entered the “Mystery University,” including my laptop and phone. They had returned it after 6 months and they gave me a choice. Either I stay, or I go back to Prague. I chose to stay.

“Are you ready?” Leather-jacket asks me while entering the room. Is that 15 minutes already? I give him my best annoyed face and then I look away. We walk to a black car and he grabs my luggage. He puts it in the trunk, and then he opens the door for me.

“Before I get in, I want to know your name,” I cross my arms. I won’t get to the car with a complete stranger.

His smile is bright and sincere. “I’m William.”