Last Run

She held my hand so tightly I thought it was going to break. We didn’t think, we just ran; the woods were still wet from the rain the night before, but tonight the sky was clear and the moon was shining. The stars were endless, but at the time, we didn’t even look up. We just looked ahead. We just ran. And I can still remember her hand in mine, the softness of her palm and the way she gripped me tightly.

We skidded to a stop at the crossroads, our hearts beating wildly as we both panted. She turned to me, her eyes wild. I gazed down at her and cupped her face. Her eyes still held some of the fire I knew and loved, but she was so afraid.

“Mina.” I said softly. At this point, we could hear the dogs barking, their loud baying tearing across the woods. They were like demons, chasing us with a singular pack mind. They would tear us apart.

“No. No, Adrienne, you can’t—” Her eyes shone with tears and anger. At me.

“I promised to keep you safe.” I whispered, even as she stepped closer, clinging to me.

“I won’t leave you. I can’t leave you. Don’t ask me to.” She said, shaking her head.

“If they come for me, you can get away.” I said, brushing away a tear that fell recklessly down her porcelain cheek. God, she was too beautiful to cry.

“Don’t say that.” She hissed, her fists tightening in my shirt. It would tear if she clung to me any tighter.

“Mina.” I whispered pleadingly, as the baying grew louder, turning into howls. The sounds of boots against wet ground weren’t far behind.

We should have known the risk. Love was the most dangerous crime we could commit. Affection, intimacy, even longing glances were enough to be reported. The Department of Public Safety and Decency had made sure of that. I had seen what happened to people like us—sterilization, re-education, exile. Or worse. And yet, I couldn’t stop loving her.

Mina. My Mina. I brushed her hair back from her face, sweeping the straight, black strands away from her shoulders. Her eyes opened, and her body shook as she glared at me.

It was the way she looked at me before she scrunched her nose and yelled at me because I’d gotten on her nerves. It was the way she looked at me before she clicked her tongue and fixed something for me. It was the way she looked at me before she rolled her eyes, sighed, and threw her arms around me and held me.

In that moment, I remembered everything. Meeting in my mother’s clothing store in our tiny town the first time her family moved in and immediately clicking. Kissing her for the first time as we’d stood in the back corner of her father’s bookstore. Being terrified that people would find out because two girls just couldn’t be together, it wasn’t allowed. Her rejecting me out of fear, and me begging her to let me be with her, even in secret. I wanted to be with her.

And now… I’d be her death.

My Mina.

“Mina.” I said quietly but firmly as I slid my hands down her face and to her hands. “You are going to live. You’re going to—”

“No.”

“Yes,” I unwound her hands from my shirt, and though she began fighting me, she was so small in my grasp that she couldn’t. “You’re going to get married and have the babies you want. You’re going to be happy—”

“Not without you.” She sobbed, her hands gripping my forearms.

“Without me. For now. Just for now.” I lied. “I’ll go. You run.” I murmured, pulling her close, my lips pressing to the crown of her head. I closed my eyes and breathed her in deep.

Then I pushed her away, shoved her hard so she couldn’t—no, wouldn’t follow me. She fell into the bushes, and I heard her wail, but I screamed and took off running, purposefully crashing through the underbrush to make as much noise as I could.

In the end, I wouldn’t know what happened to Mina. Not until the months after my arrest and sterilization.

My mother broke the news slowly, alluding at first to the fact that Mina’s family had moved away. When I began asking about her, she refused to answer. I’d thought it was because of my mother’s shame and the triangle brand on my shoulder. The mark of deviants. The mark of people like me.

Rumors spread around the town, working their way through the grapevine until they filtered down to my ears as I worked quietly in my mother’s shop repairing a tattered lace dress for a client.

“The Song’s? Are you sure it was their daughter’s body that was found?” I blinked and raised my head as the sewing machine’s needle jerked to a stop. The old woman’s voice was shamelessly loud, and I stood like a zombie as I made my way to the front of the store.

“Yes, the Song’s. The one who ran away… Ooh, what was her name…” The two women were gossiping in the corner of the store, looking at our newest selection of coats for the winter. I stood there, just staring.

“Mina!”

“Adrienne.” My mother’s voice barely registered, and I turned to face her, my eyes wide.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice was tight and hollow. I could barely breathe. My chest had constricted down to nothing, and I felt cold.

“Not here…” She whispered, reaching for me. I pulled back so aggressively that the two women startled and stared at us, their eyes wide.

My mother tried to usher me to the back, giving them a customer service smile, but I didn’t move.

“Why?” I asked again, my eyes wide with shock. “Why didn’t you tell me they killed her?” The two women gaped now, absorbing all the gossip.

“Adrienne.” My mother hissed, glaring at me. She was angry now, her eyes blazing.

I didn’t move. I was stuck. I’d doomed Mina to die on that road, to die alone. My chest heaved as I turned around and looked at the two women. The store felt claustrophobic now, and my head swam with the weight of my panic.

My mother reached for me once again, but I shrugged her off and took leaden steps towards the front door. I was out the door before she could stop me.

I ran, once more, to the woods. This world had never been meant for us.

I ran back to the woods, the familiar path blurring beneath my feet. Our town was small, and the woods were always close. It wasn’t hard to find the spot. A cluster of people had gathered, the small police force trying to keep them at bay. I slipped through the barrier, their protests fading into the background.

Mina lay beneath a white sheet, her small feet peeking out. She’d hate that—her feet were always cold. The sight of her like that, abandoned and exposed, made my heart clench painfully.

Her parents stood nearby, her mother’s face pale and stricken, her father speaking in hushed tones with a detective. An investigator from the Department of Public Safety and Decency hovered near her body, his uniform clean and dark and his presence so oppressive that no one dared look him in the eye. I wanted to rip him away, to scream that it was his fault she was lying there.

I moved to Mina’s side, ignoring the murmurs around me. Gently, I pulled the sheet over her feet, a small act of care in a world that had shown her none. Then I sat beside her, my head in my hands, the weight of her absence pressing down on me.

My Mina.

The detective approached, nudging me with his boot. “Do you know anything about this?” he asked, his voice rough and indifferent. I couldn’t tear my eyes from Mina.

“I know everything. And so does he,” I replied, nodding towards the investigator without looking away.

He crouched down, his breath sour and close. “If you don’t want to end up like her, you’d better come with me,” he hissed.

“And if I do?” I shot back, my voice steady.

He scoffed, yanking me to my feet. I didn’t resist, but my gaze stayed locked on Mina, knowing this was the last time I’d see her. As he dragged me away, I held onto the memory of her warmth, her laughter, and her.

My Mina.