Breaking the rules is always seen as a bad thing. The way I look at it, it can be a good and a bad thing. Some rules are meant to be followed. Without them, society would be chaos and all would be lost. Then, there are the rules that are meant to be broken. There are rules which cause injustice and must be broken to protect humanity. These are the rules that often appear in the darkest of times.
In my society, there who were victorious and those who were defeated. The world had been split in two. Each took sides in a Civil War that lasted a hundred years. The Victors lived life in the grand sense. They were affluent and everything was perfect. Those who were defeated were sent to hell. They were sent to places where they worked their lives away. The hope had been crushed out of them.
I suppose that is why I broke the rules. I could not stand the injustice. It’s probably the reason why I also have a gun to my head at the moment. However, it always is possible that it could have been something else.
I remember the first time I saw one of these places. It is a sight that will haunt me to the end of my days. A prison would not even begin to describe this place. People were constantly working to provide for our society. Several of them had terrible injuries and they seemed to be unreal. They were shadows of their former selves.
The hope had been sucked out of it and the world seemed to be a cruel place. The people were emotionless and devoid of any feeling. I cannot begin to describe what it was like; nothing could ever convey my horror at the scene. It felt like the weight of the world was crashing down on my chest. I could not breathe; the life was being choked out of me.
Air rushed back into me when I saw her. She had to be my age, the naïve age of ten. However, she had lived years beyond my own, yet there was a life in hers that no one else contained. My green eyes locked onto her brown ones. I heard the voice of my teacher and I was pulled out of the trance. I ran to catch up with the rest of my class, but I never forgot those eyes. I never could. I never expected to see them again.
The night was dark and the breeze was cool as I headed back from my friend’s house. I had my ear buds plugged in and the music seemed to pump louder with each step. Pulling my leather jacket closer, I took a moment to think about my life. My friends never understood my weird fascination with books and music. They were too busy enjoying the spoils of war. Somehow, I never could. Those brown eyes would pop into my head the moment I began to.
I hopped the fence to get into my backyard and breathed a sigh of relief. My parents were not home which meant I did not have to deal with a ton of awkward questions and critical statements about my flaws. I turned down my music player as I reached the glass door. In the reflection, I saw her behind me.
She flipped me around and slammed me against the wall, shoving a knife against my throat. I could feel it dig into the skin and contained a small whimper that threatened to get out. “Make a noise and I will slit your throat.” She threatened. I nodded my head to let her know I completely understood.
“Let me in.” She growled at me and backed off slightly. I moved towards the glass door and slid it open. I stepped in, holding the door open for her. She stepped inside and I closed the door while turning on the light. I took a moment to see if I could gauge who she was. She was one of the prisoners. It was clear by the tattered clothing and the dirt she was covered in. The woman turned to face me and I immediately recognized her eyes. It was clear she recognized me too because her mouth dropped at the same time mine did.
“You need somewhere to hide, don’t you?” I asked, after we stared at each other for a few moments in silence. She nodded and I motioned for her to follow me. A few summers ago, I had taken to creating myself a refuge room inside my own room. Since my parents barged in, I figured I needed somewhere to call my own. The attic above my room was unused and my parents had forgotten about it. I had created my own wonderland in there. It would be a safe place for her to hide.
“You can stay here.” I said as she climbed up and stared at the room.
“How do I know you won’t turn me in?” She asked, carefully.
“Give me some faith. I want to be your friend.” I said, knowing she would not trust me. To tell the truth, I would not trust me either. I was just another one of them.
She did not seem satisfied, but sat down on the small bed. “Thanks.” She whispered.
“No problem. I am Triese by the way.” I said, trying to break the ice.
“Darcy.” She replied, not looking at me. I left her alone to get some food for her.
Darcy was my best friend and I could rely on her like no one else. She was the only person who knew the real me. I knew she was going to have to leave soon. It was only a matter of time. We had been making preparations for her. I was determined to get her out safe. She did not deserve this life and there were resistance groups that could provide for her better than I could. It was heartbreaking when I thought about her leaving. It literally tore my heart in two and my world seemed a little grayer at the thought. It was safe to say I loved Darcy.
It was time to say goodbye. We did not have much time. Darcy and I had written each other letters. We decided that it would be easier that way. We could make both quick and long goodbyes. We hugged each other, not wanting to let go. Tears formed in our eyes and I thought I was going to crumble on the floor.
Darcy was gone and everything seemed lifeless. Life would be empty once more. I was about to retreat to my room when the glass from the sliding door exploded. I dropped to all fours, curling up and protecting my head. I could hear yells and hands grab at me, yanking me up. I let out a small whimper of pain at the wrenching pain. Someone pressed a gun to my head and another shined a flash light in my face.
A man began to speak and I squinted to catch a dark outline of him. “Hello, Triese. We heard about your unusual friend and we wanted to visit her. Now, we know she has left. We just need you to give us the information. Where is she?” He growled, twisting his hand in my hair.
“I am not telling you.” I said, trying to get out of their grip.
The man only tightened his grip on my hair and I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Well, then you are going to come with me and the two of us are going to have some fun. How do you feel about torture? I just love dishing it out.”
Some rules are worth breaking, especially for the people you love.
Word Count: 1319