1A/N: I haven't been working on this for long, it's more of a side project that I think is cool. Nonetheless please let me know what you guys think.
-Angie :)
I gaze out the bullet-proof window, looking at the glass and steal buildings around me. I wonder if I could manage to break the window and jump. It's only a few stories down, and the snow on the ground would help break the fall. This place is like a prison, Liberate State my ass. The name of this place sounds so happy, like we should be free, but nothing could be further from the truth.
"Rose?" I hear a voice calling me. Jane, my mother.
"Yeah," I answer, plastering a fake smile on my face and getting away from the window. Everything is fake here. It disgusts me.
"Supper is ready." My mother says. Her smile is bright, showing her perfect teeth, it hurts my eyes. I see the pearls around her neck and I want to grab them and choke her to death. Nothing is real, not even her. She just asks what They tell her to. She isn't even my mother, but I call her that.
"Fix your hair and come down." She says, with the smile still on her face, but it's an order. She closes my bedroom door and leaves to go downstairs. I check my reflection in the mirror and smile, a real smile. I like the way my blonde-almost-white hair is messy.
I pull my hair into a neat bun and fix my pearl necklace so that the clasp is behind my neck. I step into the cream-colored heels that were set out for me and smooth down my white dress. Another thing I hate: everything is white. My heels dig into the white carpet as I walk to the door. I hear a sharp click and the door opens for me- sensing the chip in the clasp of my necklace.
"Rose?" My so called "mother" calls.
"Coming!" I make my voice sound high-pitched and happy, though that too is fake.
"Rose, there you are darling. You look beautiful." My father says without looking up from his plate.
I smile and sit at the glass table. The food looks great; two slices of chicken, peas and rice. And probably cake for dessert. The same supper we have every night.
I look at Jane, and try my best to smile sweetly. Everything here is about how well you act; if you do well you get what you want, and if you don't…
"Thank you for the supper mother it's delightful." I say even though I haven't taken a bite yet.
She nods at me, it is part of her role in North Liberate State. She doesn't have a choice. None of us do. We do what we are told and most people never argue, but there are some that do- and within a few hours those people disappear. Their existence whipped out of the computers, pictures, videos and the only proof they were ever alive exists in our memories. No questions were supposed to be asked. It was one of the rules. The most important rule.
"How was your day Jane?" My father asks my mother.
I want to lodge my butter knife in his chest. He already knows how her day was, it is the same every day, nothing ever changes. I grip my fork a little too tightly and pop a piece of chicken in my mouth, I've had enough of this.
"It was marvelous, I did some paper work for…" she trails off instead of finishing her sentence. She's not allowed to speak of what the mothers did. "It was marvelous." She concludes, pressing her lips together tightly.
"May I be excused?" I ask, pushing myself away from the table. My mother nods and I leave, hurrying to my room. The cameras following my every move.
The door to my room clicks open and I kick my heels off. I go straight to my closet where I pull out a black bulky hoodie and a pair of skin-tight, black jeans. I change quickly, throwing my dress to the floor. The room is white with an off white border, my king-sized bed is at the far side of the room and it too has white covers. There is a full length mirror, and a white dresser to the side of it. My room is simple, too simple; too perfect.
I check myself in the mirror and pull my hair out of the tight bun. The black hoodie I wear makes my hair look more white than blonde. I rub the makeup off my face, and put on some black eyeliner to make my light blue-almost white- eyes stand out.
I check my watch: 8:00 at night. The doors lock in an hour, I have time.
oOo
I race out of my bedroom, the door clicking closed after me. If there is one thing about Liberate State that I like is that freedom hours can be earned fairly quickly. When you act correctly according to Them, you get what you want, whether it's a computer or special food. I pile all my goodie-girl-points for hours. 300 points get you outside for half an hour, 600 for an hour.
The best part of being outside is getting away from the cameras and having some privacy. Or at least that's what they try to get you to think, but there are guards everywhere, Arbitrators. And the thing about the Arbitrators is that sometimes they follow you around for the whole hour. What sucks the most is that you're only permitted one hour a day, no matter how many hours you have stocked up.
I take the stairs out of the building instead of the elevator and jog to the park. When I get there I see other teen-agers all dressed in black hoodies. Black is illegal in Liberate State, because apparently we're supposed to represent a pure and just society. But our friend Josh hooked us up with some black dye, so we die our hoodies black to rebel.
"Come on Payne, move those legs, they're long enough!" I hear Derek, the leader of the group, yelling at me. I hate it when he calls me by my last name, but I wave and jog to the group faster.
"Okay guys, we have less than an hour- thanks to Payne over here- but we have to get the hell out of Liberate State! We need to rebel!" Derek pauses dramatically, "and to do that, we need weapons. And more people we can rely on. Starting tomorrow recruit others that aren't so loyal to Them. Let them know there's always a place here with The Rebs." Derek's voice is loud, but it doesn't have to be, we're all quiet. There are about fourteen of us, give or take a few.
"Any questions?" Derek asks, his blue eyes searching the faces among the crowd.
"What type of weapons?" A girl with a hood over her head asks. I don't know her name, but I think it's Amy. She's one of the younger ones, I can tell because her figure is small and she's about 5'3. Underneath her hood her hair is twisted in a braid, and her eyes are an electric blue.
"The kind we fight with. Any more questions?" He earns a couple of chuckles from the older guys, but I don't laugh, I was like Amy once. Derek looks around the park and when his eyes reach something they narrow. "We have less time now, we have about 46 minutes…. And company."
I see them, their unmistakable white uniforms bright against the darkness of the night.
"Arbitrators," I hear someone mumble, one of the girls.
"Identification passes, you and your group." The leader of the Arbitrators says. His voice is monotone, and behind him there are four others, dressed just like him; white leather jackets and white pressed pants. What sickens me is that the Arbitrators and the Rebs are the same age; but they—unlike us—choose to embrace the madness of Liberate State.
I pull out my identification pass from my back pocket and hand it to one of them. He grabs it roughly from me and checks my name and amount of points.
"Rosaline Payne, 5087 points. Out for an hour?" I nod. He pulls out the scanner and deducts the 600 points. "Well, 4487 points now, enjoy your night." He says handing my identification pass back.
"Thanks," I say, but I don't mean it, I hate those people's guts. Can't they see They control everything we do?
It doesn't take long for them to check our identification cards, and the last to give them her card is Amy.
"H-here," Amy's voice is shaky, but she gives one of them her card. The Arbitrator tries to grab it but she doesn't let go.
"Amy, give it over, you're wasting time." Derek says, clearly annoyed, but there is a tinge of worry in his voice. But there are tears running down Amy's face and she finally lets go.
The Arbitrator checks her card and says, "Will you look at that? 400 points, and take away 600? Negative 200 points Amy Lisette Borwell. I think you have to come with us now." Amy shakes her head, tears streaming down her face and we all look at her in awe. She couldn't have negative points… she shouldn't have come outside, she knew the cost of it.
"I'll give her my points," I speak up, but I don't know why, she's just a kid, and probably won't be of any use to us.
Amy looks at me, tears brimming and threatening to spill.
"What?" Amy manages to choke out.
"Give her my points," I say aggravated and ready to punch someone.
"That's against the rules." The leader of the Arbitrators barks.
I've had enough of the Arbitrators, they are ruining our night—one we should have been able to use to recruit members for the Rebs and get weapons. I grip the back of his neck, touching his blonde hair and push his head down. The other Arbs are too busy being shocked to help their leader, and as soon as they try to react, our guys are on them.
Punches are thrown and Derek smiles, he loves disorder.
"Give her my points." I request. "Now." I get out my card and shove it in his face.
"Scan it, and give my points to Amy." The Arbitrator doesn't even fighting back; my hold on him is too strong.
He pulls out his scanner and transfers the points. When he is done I shove him to the ground and kick him for good measure. I will surely be punished in the morning for my actions, but it's worth it.
I look at the others, "Let go of them, they've wasted our time already. Let's go guys." Some of the Rebs look at me like I'm retarted, but they let go of the Arbs and one of the guys I recognise—Nick—punches one of them in the jaw.
"Don't mess with us again, just take your damn points and leave," Nick shouted at the leader of the Arbitrators as he kicked him hard in the ribs. Nick's punishment may be worse than mine.
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