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Smoke and collapsed homes were all that were left. I led Seraphine and Lucy through the ruins of our neighborhood, desperately searching for life among the dead. The house was gone. Crumbled to pieces.
Seraphine clutched Rosie the Bunny in her little arms, black hair swept across her face, as she asked the only question I couldn’t answer: “Where’s Mommy and Daddy?”
I didn’t respond. How could I tell her if I didn’t know myself?
When I collapsed on the ground, shaking with tears, I felt two pairs of small arms wrap around my body, and I wondered how I could protect the girls hugging me from the Undead and the people that unleashed them.

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Breakfast was a single slice of slightly moldy bread with water that should not be classified as clean. I adjusted the name tag on my shirt before leaving the shack we now called home. The little piece of metal read “Jasper.” Not my real name, of course. No one used their real name at The Rose House. No one was considered human there anyways. My real name is Ryan Bergara, but only some people know that.

Lucy and Seraphine were still asleep, so I left them the best thing I could find in the fridge, like always. The things I’d do for them. Like selling my body.
Crumbling homes and starving children are a common sight here in Sector 8. Ever since the Fall, 90% of the population live in ten sectors while the other 10% live in a walled-off city called Everlux, where their greatest desires are fulfilled while we starve. The Sectors are enclosed by large electric fences to keep the zombie hoards out and us trapped.
People with magical powers, known as Channeled, are especially mistreated, which is rich, considering the government relies on us for magical crystals called Aether Crystals to power their bloodlust. It’s never enough for Topside. That’s what we call Everlux.

Sometimes I wonder where it all went wrong. If Shane were here, maybe he’d make a joke about kidnapping a royal official and eating their flesh. Maybe we’d be the family we always wanted instead of him being stuck as an enforcer or buried under the sands of the outside world. Maybe he’d be holding my hand as we cooked whatever Great Depression recipe he found. But the government took him from me. I still see the way the soldiers dragged him through the door, Shane shouting my name as I screamed into the void, helpless. Now it’s only me that can provide for us. But mourning won’t help us afford rice or a loaf of bread.
The Rose House is right on the next turn when I stop thinking of Shane. I am greeted by the scent of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke. The Ryan from three years ago would gag, but now I am unphased.

When I reach my quarters, I take out a doll with my likeness. The Rose House uses these to tell clients which worker is available. If the doll is upright, the worker is ready for hire. If the doll is lying down, they’re busy.
I am the only man here, a special for the clients. My price is higher than everyone else because I am the “trans freak,” so everyone wants a piece of me. The others are jealous of the larger income I get, even though I take home the same amount as them. The madam gets most of our salary anyways.
“JASPER THERE’S A CUSTOMER FOR YOU!” The madam’s shrill voice cuts through the air. I look back to see an overweight man standing in the door. We introduce each other, and I quickly detect the smell of wine on his breath. This is going to be a long day, I say in my head as he undresses me with a devious grin.

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The Wailing Siren was a block away from the Rose House. It was a tavern owned by aspiring pirate Milo Delorre. Everyday people wishing for their struggles to disappear would flood the place. Some came to drink their troubles away, while others came to discuss a possible uprising. Some came to mess with Milo.
That last comment was Seraphine. She had a certain… spark in her eyes that most 13 year olds probably shouldn’t have. Every night she came to the Wailing Siren with a bag full of glitter grenades and mischief on her mind. Us Bergaras are… well known there. Mainly because Lucy performs there and Seraphine blows it up. Lucy is a musical genius, writing her own songs to perform with a band of other teenagers in Sector 8. It’s nice, really. We never have nice things around here.
It’s 4:30 in the afternoon. Lucy performs at 5. I try to move when I realize there’s a man on top of me. I shove the man off my body and he reluctantly leaves, slipping two coins into my hand.
I wash up with a bucket and a rag, slip on my clothes, and run out the door. The madam doesn’t care when we leave as long as she gets her money.
I reminisce of a time when the only person who touched me was Shane.

It was past midnight as Shane and I laid in bed together. I had a nightmare and I could only shake him awake.
“Yes babe?”
I didn’t respond verbally. I just hugged him as tight as humanly possible.
Shane chuckled before returning the favor and kissing me deeply. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

He’d hate me now.
As I move through the street, a piece of rotten fruit comes my way, then someone shouts “Rose-Blood” at me, a slang term for prostitute. As if working at the Rose House wasn’t enough torture.
I’ve heard stories of workers getting sick, or worse, pregnant and being cast out. Having a baby with a topsider father is a death sentence, no matter the reason. Maybe the parents were genuinely in love, maybe the father got drunk and saw the mother as prey. Either way, the sector will forget you. It takes a village to raise a child, unless the father is our enemy. I only hope I’m not the next one.
The smell of fresh bread curls around me like a comforting blanket. The sweet, cinnamony scent of apple pie beckons me. I’ve reached Sweet Dough Bakery.
The owner, Eliza, is the daughter of one of the lower class Topside families. Her father was one of the people in charge of the mining industry. Three years ago, she visited Sector 8 and met her future husband Alex after he was caught stealing bread from a stall. She let him go, and the rest is history. She ran away from Topside, opened a bakery, and married Alex.
Everyday she bakes a surplus to give to the starving children who come into the streets to beg for money. Her prices are dirt cheap, because “people should be able to have something to look forward to, like a sweet treat.” I can’t think of anyone who would do that, so she’s genuine.
Next door is The Wailing Siren. I enter, greeted by the yells of rowdy customers and the shouts of one Milo Delorre. On the tv is another propaganda campaign to quell any hopes of change. This time, there is a man on screen. He is donning a black, gold, and blue coat, with a blue cape. The colors of the nobility. He wears a black mask, blue glowing eyes stare at us with a message: “We are watching you. We will kill you all.”
The Marshal. The most feared man in all of Novara. No one knows his true identity. The only clues are his fair skin in his uncovered hands and his brown hair which peeks out from behind his mask. He is impossibly tall, which makes him even more intimidating. No one disobeys him. Mothers tell their children of the masked man that comes for those who do not listen to orders as a way to get them to do their chores.
But something seems familiar about him. Maybe it’s his tall stature, but he reminds me of my Shane.

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When I look in the mirror, my face doesn’t stare back. Only the mask’s lifeless eyes.
The shrill voice of my “wife” beckons me to breakfast. I adjust my coat one more time and head down the stairs.
The grand hall’s table is covered in fresh fruit, complicated pastries, plates of meat all prepared by the servants who won’t even get to eat them. The dishes filled the air with a scent that was the closest thing to happiness I could get in this hellhole.

I grab a plate and stack Belgian waffles with hand whipped cream and strawberries, bacon, toast with rare fruit preserves, coffee with cream and sugar, before sitting down next to the witch who trapped me here.

Four years ago, the king called me up to the throne in front of my “comrades” and declared me Marshal. I was already known among the army as one of the most brilliant soldiers, becoming captain, then general after a year of service.
Following my promotion, a nobleman named Cassius Helmore approached me for my hand in marriage to his daughter Deliah. I had no choice in the matter. She knew about my weakness, that someone already occupied my heart, and she threatened to find and kill him. She could follow through too, as her father was a prominent council member. So I accepted, stood in front of all of Everlux, declared a vow I never meant, and sealed my fate.

I never cared for the luxuries that aim to blind me from the truth. I only want one thing, to return to my true love. Where is he, the one I desire? Is he alive? Does he think of me too? What about his family, the girls he loves so dearly? Has he forgotten me, or is his heart still searching for me?
I think of him when the council talks of spirits who have caused misfortune in Everlux. I remember his face at the most random times. I remember the secretive little kisses we gave when we worked at Buzzfeed the glow of his skin when we made love.
I may be married to a woman who only sees me as a possession to use, but my true love is one Ryan Bergara.

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I stand on the roof of The Wailing Siren, bag in hand. Inside it are two types of grenades. One type contains glitter, while the other contains a pigment powder that creates a large pink cloud. Both are perfect for mayhem.
It’s 8 o clock, perfect time to prank a pirate. Milo stands at the bar, polishing a cup. His eyes darted everywhere, like he’s expecting me. It’s not unusual, considering I do this all the time.
Tonight, he sent bodyguards. Grog and Lobscouse, two servers who should not be qualified for this job, stand outside the door to the tavern. They barely had time to react before a cloud of glitter erupts from the grenade on the ground. I jump down and enter.
Milo stands there, a look of annoyance and surrender on his face, contempt in his blue eyes. His dark hair is covered in pink dust, his white shirt ruined. “You know Seraphine, if you’re going to do this, at least wait until I’m drunk.”
I grin wildly, pulling out another grenade. “Too bad, you’re stuck with me!”
A loud boom rang outside, and Milo raised his eyebrow.
I stare in response. “That’s… not me.”
We run to the window and look out. A woman and her son are on the ground, begging. A heavily armed enforcer stands before them. The woman has barely opened her mouth when the enforcer fired his gun, and she drops to the ground. The son begins screaming for her to wake up. We realize what is happening when the enforcer shoots the boy straight in the face.

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A cleansing. Another way of saying genocide.
The topsiders blame us for everything. They blame us for economic problems, illness, political unrest, the zombies that lurk beyond our walls. No amount of propaganda can hide their intentions: they want us dead.
Milo picks me up, which isn’t hard to do considering I don’t weigh that much due to the lack of proper food here. He throws me behind the bar and pulls out a sword.
As he creeps toward the door, I realize how worried Ryan must be right now. Both of his sisters are missing during a cleansing. He knows where I usually am, but does he know where Lucy went? None of us can afford to lose each other. Not after Jake died.
More gunshots go off outside, and I curl up, hoping that they don’t come to us. I cradle a grenade in my hand. These aren’t designed to kill, but maybe they can distract the enforcers so we can escape.
I hear footsteps running towards the tavern, and before you know it, two enforcers enter.
Milo swings his sword in one fluid motion, slitting the neck of one enforcer. Red stains the blue uniform as the enforcer collapses and dies.
The other knocks the sword out of Milo’s hand, and that’s when I jump in. I chuck two grenades in their direction, yelling for Milo to run. He barely escapes the explosions. I throw more grenades in their direction. If I could make Milo laugh, maybe I could pretend we weren’t all just waiting to die.
As the enforcer swings his arms violently to clear the smoke, Milo cuts his head off. We both run out into the open to see the carnage that lies ahead.
Dead bodies in all shapes litter the street. A beheaded woman there, a burning man next to Sweet Dough. Flames have consumed half the sector. The smell of burnt flesh invades our noses and stings our eyes.
When I get the courage to look up, I see Ryan and Lucy running towards us.

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Flowers surround us in all colors. Marcus, my lover, lays beside me. We are the real life version of that “he was a punk, she did ballet” joke that went around the internet when the internet still existed. Me in my long rainbow dress, him in leather jackets and ripped jeans. We are a couple no one saw coming.
Marcus and I met when we joined a band called the Songbirds, which is made up of a group of local teens who have the same idea, which is that “Life here sucks, so let’s make music to make it suck less.” Since then, we have been inseparable. Our favorite thing to do is run into the meadow next to Sector 8. It is one of the only beautiful things in this wasteland, which is what we were doing now.
“Do you think we’ll ever be able to get out of here? All of us?” Marcus asks me. He’s not talking about the two of us only. He wants all of the people in our life to be free with us. Ryan, Seraphine, the other songbirds too. They are our rocks, our safety nets. We can’t leave them behind.
Suddenly, I hear music, but all the notes are wrong. My ability is to hear the emotions of others as music. The happy child has the gleeful music of carnivals and fairs while the crying man sings a sorrowful song. I’ve never heard this music before. Something’s wrong.
My confusion was answered by the screams of people and the bangs of guns. I hear mothers and children crying out for each other, fathers begging for their families' lives.
Marcus and I look towards each other before running back to Sector 8 to find our loved ones. I have Ryan and Seraphine, but Marcus has no one left but the songbirds and me.
We take off in different directions, but the damage is the same everywhere. Buildings are burning on every turn.
As I run in the direction of our house, I see him. I can’t recognize him from all of the smoke in the air, but as I get closer I make out his features: tanned skin, muscular frame, black curly hair. It’s Ryan.
He looks in my direction, eyes growing wide, and runs to me. I see he is carrying three bags, probably supplies if we have to make a run for it.
“Ryan, where’s Seraphine?” I ask frantically.
Ryan glances around, and I can see he isn’t sure. But we both know where we could find her.
The two of us running down the street is quite a sight since we’re running towards where all the enforcers are headed.

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I’m home alone. Technically. My house is in a somewhat hidden area behind two buildings. We live in a community called a safe haven to house both Channeled and queer people, since both are illegal.
My neighbor Dylan, a skinny fair skinned man with blonde hair, is baking something. Baking these days means making barely edible biscuits with our government distributed rations, but he manages to make them more bearable.
I look in the fridge to find what is still edible. Only milk, butter, and some fruit left. In the pantry lies ration cans.
I pull out a can of dehydrated meat bars and vitamin bread. Guess that’s supper.
Seraphine is at The Wailing Siren, and Lucy is with Marcus. So I have time to myself.
I walk over to my room, if it can be called that. There’s only space for two bedrooms here, and one of them is a small cramped room that barely has space for a proper bed. So I took it, obviously.
In my room is an air mattress, dresser, and a small excuse for a desk. I open the dresser’s bottom drawer and pull out two things. A picture of me and Shane in a field of strawberries from the day we got engaged, and a small bag with a diamond ring inside. That ring never made it to the wedding day. I keep it with me everywhere. I usually put it on a chain and wear it, but my instincts told me to leave it at home today. A small bottle of testosterone sits there, mocking me. Our haven keeper Lee is in charge of supplies and safekeeping, and he found a bunch of T vials in an abandoned clinic, so I was set for a while. I just had to use it sparingly. The mood swings are horrible. My skin still crawls sometimes.
Tears well up in my eyes as I think of the future that was stolen from all of us. This is the side I never let the girls see. The wreck of a man that is me, that has to resort to being violated to make money for us. The one that waits for a man who may not even be alive. My “crash out” as the kids said years ago is interrupted by gunshots and screams.

Meanwhile, as the shantytown burned, Everlux’s most well known couple shined. Or so the world thought.
“You’re so quiet, darling. What are you thinking about?” Deliah’s voice was sandpaper to my ears.
Our chamber was lavish, walls of gold, carpets colored crimson and blue. Our bed was made of the finest silks, wood from rare trees, and gold poles held up our curtains. My desk was polished and shiny, military memorabilia littered it.
Deliah sat on the bed, her nightgown highlighting her figure. It was a dress made of black lace and silk, with a gold ribbon at the hip. Parts of it were sheer, others were solid.
I looked away, trying to concentrate on the document I was working on. My mind is elsewhere. Where is Ryan? Is he safe? Lucy? Seraphine? I will never rest until I find them. I long to hold Ryan’s face and memorize every part, to wake up next to him, to hear his voice again.
Deliah seems to have caught on, as she walks up to my desk with a face of determination. “Come to bed dear.”
“I can’t, patrol is in an hour.” That’s a lie. I don’t do patrol anymore. The commander takes care of that, though I join in on special occasions.
“Patrol again? You spend more time with the rookies than in bed.” Her voice is like silk and steel at the same time. She drags me to the edge of our bed and lies down in a seductive pose as if I would be interested. “Oh, no response, huh? Like what you see? Or are you thinking of him again?”
My heart stops. How did she know?

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For a few seconds, time stands still. My mind races, hoping that all of this is a dream.
Deliah seems quite pleased with herself. “Don’t act surprised, darling. You’re so vocal when you dream. Please, don’t leave me again! I need you!” She giggles. “Tell me, was he your little housewife? Was he beautiful the way broken things are? Did he fall apart for you, or did you fall apart for him?”
I don’t answer. If I do, he’s dead. “You keep his name out of your goddamn mouth you witch.”
She chuckles again. “Is that how you talk to your wife? Tsk tsk tsk. I knew something held you back.” She begins to undress me and leans in to whisper, “Is this how he touched you? Did he run his hands along your back and whisper your name like it meant something? You act like you don’t care for anything, but I know your deepest secret. And you bet I’m going to use it.”
“Why are you doing this? I’ve crushed uprisings. I’ve let you use my body. I’ve done everything you and your father demand from me. Haven’t I given you enough?”
“Yes, but clearly you’re keeping something from me. You should know better. Everything that is yours, is mine.”
“Don’t you dare lay a finger on him-”
“No worries. I don’t touch filth. I just decide how much I want to keep alive.” I step back before I can do anything rash.
“Why are you saying all of this?”
“Because I have a deal for you to take. You can forget the boy. You can be my husband, stay by my side at all times. It’s easy. But, if you step out of line, I can easily let it slip to Father. He can tell the council. And all of Sector 8 will burn to ashes.”
I’m seeing red at this point. “You can take my freedom. You can take my body. But take Ryan, and you’ll wish for death when I’m done with you. You’ll never have any of us.”
She smiles, her teeth glinting like fangs ready to sink into her prey. “Oh, but I already do. You’re a shell. A pretty face in a uniform. You scream for him in your sleep like a child begging for a dream that won’t come back. And now… I think it’s time your dream dies for real.”

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Sector 8 transformed into hell. Technically, it was already hell, but now it’s literal. Flames engulf every home and shop.
I realize that our home could meet the same fate. Quickly, I began to pack our supplies. One bag is filled up with our ration packs. This food could last us a few days, maybe weeks if we eat small amounts. I dump the tins of meat bars, crackers, vitamin bread, and emergency candy (who’s going to ration candy? Leave that alone with a child and you better make sure you packed other food) into a duffel bag, grab as much of our clothes as possible, and save room for our most prized belongings.
Lucy’s instruments are laying on her
bed. Those are essential since musical performances make good money. I stash some as best as possible in my backpack.
Seraphine’s grenade kit is scattered on her desk, so I pack it up and put it in too. I’m about to leave when I see the beady eyes of a stuffed rabbit on her bed. Seraphine lost Rosie 5 years ago, but I was able to scavenge some more plushies from our old house. Bella the bunny, while not as beloved as Rosie, lays there, a last bit of innocence in a cruel world. She’s going in.
I also grab her favorite trinket, a small heart shaped jewelry box that looked like a strawberry cake with a bunny on top, a gift from Shane.
Finally I reached my room. I snatch family pictures from the shelf above my desk and a gift from Shane: a plush doll named the Professor. It was a blue creature with a cardigan, a hat, glasses, and a little bow tie. Shane made it himself.
My ring hangs from its chain on my neck, and I clutch it as I prepare to leave.
When I walk out, I notice a backpack in Lucy’s room. I open it to reveal trinkets of gold inside. Another heist.
Sometimes, when money is tight, the girls and their friends would go up to topside and rob a house. I’ve lectured them too many times to count, but at this point I’m just used to it. I just make sure they don’t go for high profile houses.
I’m debating whether to leave the bag or take it with me. I already have two bags. Three could get me questioned. But we may need to sell these things, and enforcers could search the house if it stays intact. I take the loot bag and run out the door.
Dylan, with only a duffel bag, is outside too. “Where are the girls? Shouldn’t they be here too?”
“I’m not sure where Lucy is, but I know where Seraphine is.”
We race through the streets.
Dylan has gone to find medical supplies, but we agree to meet up near Sweet Dough and The Wailing Siren.
As I begin to lose hope of finding the girls, I see a girl in a rainbow dress. Lucy.
We run to each other, and she asks where Seraphine is. I glance around, hoping for a sign of her. Then I remember: The Wailing Siren.
We take off towards the tavern. Gunfire is all around us. People stare as we run towards the danger. But we won’t leave anyone behind.
Soon we reach it. Inside, we see pink everywhere. And out run Milo and Seraphine.

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Seraphine’s covered in pink, but she’s unscathed. I pull her into the biggest hug in the world. “We’re all here. It’s okay.”
Eliza and Alex run to us. Eliza has the biggest look of relief on her face. Her black hair was tied in a messy bun, and there was blood on her apron. Marcus has caught up to us, the other Songbirds alongside him.
Suddenly, an enforcer runs to us with a gun. Before he can point it at us, an unintelligible message comes through his helmet. He tenses up, then leaves. Others begin to do the same. This means one thing: it’s over. We’re safe for now.
When we return to the haven, it’s gone. Reduced to rubble and ashes. Dylan’s there, assessing the damage. He turns to me with a somber face. Out of the nine residents, only four remain. My stomach drops. My friends, our family, all gone.
“We barely escaped,” he says. “After we left, the enforcers got word of a building housing impures. Everyone inside is dead now.”
There’s silence all around until Milo steps up. “I have some rooms upstairs at the tavern. You guys can stay there until you find a new place.” He turns to Seraphine, “Keep the glitter to a minimum though.” We’re ecstatic. Seraphine jumps into the air. Lucy twirls around. Dylan cheers. I run to Milo and hug him. Eliza smiles and joins in. We walk towards the Wailing Siren and the energy dies down as we see what’s left. Piles of ashes and bone litter the streets. A dead woman hugs her crying daughter as she begs for her mother to wake up, corpses are hung from the walls. Dylan pauses, and turns to me. “Tomorrow morning, Lee will join them.” My heart falls, and I feel nauseous. What he did was illegal, but he had the kindest heart and didn’t care as long as he did good for us. He will be publicly executed. We don’t need an announcement to know. The Wailing Siren stands tall still, blood and pink paint all over the floor and walls. Milo leads us to a hidden door, going upstairs to a hallway with four doors. He points to a door with a Jolly Roger on it, saying “This one’s mine. Need anything, I’m here.” We walked into a room at the end of the hall. The inside is brown, a small bed and dresser is all there is. Seraphine flops onto the bed, then Lucy. I drop the bags and join them.”Now what?” We have a new home, free food, but other than that there’s nowhere to go. I will have to return to the Rose House tomorrow. Lucy looks up at me with a spark in her eyes. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

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The silk on my skin feels like sandpaper. Deliah lays beside me, body bare, sleeping contently. It has been an hour since she forced me to bed her, and now nothing feels right. I look out the windows at the stars, and I wonder if Ryan is looking at those same stars. I lift myself out of bed, slip on a robe, and sit at my desk. In tears, I write a letter no one will read.
To my love, if possible, let me know if you are safe. Do you look at the stars too? Do you still have the ring?
I miss your voice. I miss the way you laughed at my stupid jokes, the way you said my name, the stupid things you said about ghosts.
All I hear is silence now.
I’m only a mask now. Not just the one used to scare people into submission. The one I wear when I salute, when I am parading around the city. The one that spends every second with a woman I never chose. I wish I could break free. In every life, I choose
you. The only real thing in this world. She owns me. Her father owns me. This city owns me. But not for long. I will burn this place down if it means I can see you again. The people of this country fear me already. I’ll make the people who run fear me too.
Love, Shane.
I hide the letter and return to bed.

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Seraphine finds the letter first. It was written with gold ink, in an envelope with the Everlux crest. “Why do we have a letter addressed to the ‘wretched rebels’?” I grab it from her hand and read it out loud.
To the citizens listed below,
You have violated the laws of .
The council finds your behavior unacceptable, but have decided to spare you the same fate of your people. Should you wish to clear your records of your crimes, we have an opportunity. Our world was nearly annihilated 6 years ago by the undead, and a cure has been found. However, at this moment it is unreachable. To redeem yourselves, bring it back safely. Failure will result in the destruction of Sector 8.
The chosen are:
Ryan Bergara
Lucille Bergara
Seraphine Bergara
Milo Delorre
Dylan Hollis
Marcus Lopez
You have 2 weeks.
-Councilman Cassius Helmore
We stare at each other in shock. Lucy speaks first. “Why us? We don’t have any of the skills required for this.” “We’re expendable Lucy. They want to use us so they won’t lose one of their own. Typical.” Seraphine was not amused. “We can just… not go, right?” “Seraphine, this is Councilman Helmore we’re talking about, he’s one of the most powerful men in the country. He’s more powerful than The Marshal. We can’t not go.” I say with regret. Milo is beet red. “We can stand up to them. Burn the enforcer base instead.” But we know the truth: there is no such thing as a choice when it comes to the council.

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“Sir, the king wishes to see you in the council hall.” A servant shyly declares. I look up from my desk in my study. King Alaric only summons me when discussing military matters. What does he want now? I almost bump into three servants on my way to the council hall. Inside, the council is already assembled. The room was made of gold and marble, from the walls to the circular table. The king sat in the center, a mighty throne high above the floor. Helmore saved a seat for me. “We asked you here to notify you of a recent development in the rebel movement.” I tense up, and Helmore is smiling at me. “A group of rebels attacked our forces in Sector 8 during the cleansing. To send a message, we sent them on a mission through the wasteland.” No. “How would this affect the rebellion in any way? All it will do is give them hope?” I pretend to be interested. I’m actually panicking. Helmore speaks up. “Recently, this specific group has been… spreading filth throughout our country. They have committed acts of impurity and to send them on a mission they might not survive will tell the rebels what happens to those who deviate.” He slips a folder to me. When I open it, my heart drops. The first picture is Ryan. Then Seraphine. Then Lucy. The other three I don’t recognize, but they must be close. Helmore is grinning more. I try to think of a response. My mind scrambles, but I remain calm. “Well then, we may proceed.” When the meeting is dismissed, Helmore pulls me aside. “You seemed oddly concerned about the people involved. Specifically that boy, what was his name? Rain? Remy? Bryan?” “I don’t want to talk about it. This conversation is over.” I begin to walk away when I feel a hand on my arm. “I’m afraid not, boy. I know your secret.” Not again. Please not again. “My daughter has some…concerns about your behavior. A boy from the sector? Never thought I’d see the day the Marshal himself would be one of them.” “It was years ago, sir.” “But you still yearn for him, I see.” “This will be the last time sir.” “It better be. After all, you know what he is. One day he’ll forget about you with how many men defile him every day. People like him will do anything for bread and a warm bed. He’s probably moaning someone else’s name right now.” Helmore walks away, and I feel a strange sensation in my veins.

Chapter Text

“Are we sure this is going to get past the gates?” I stare at the monstrosity called the car. It was sent to us by the government, but looks like something you’d find in Sector 8. It was a rusty van with half the parts missing. Inside the back, there weren’t even seats. The front was separated by a metal wall with a “window” so the driver and passengers could see and talk to each other. We were at a garage to start our journey. Inside, there were car parts and random junk inside. Milo walked out carrying an engine that was hopefully for the van. Lucy and Marcus came by with the seats, 2 normal, one long seat for 3 people. Dylan came out with food he found in the garage, and Seraphine had scrap metal, a gun, and a bunch of random trinkets like a rubber duck and a small statue of Shrek. “Why do you have that?” I ask. “Essentials only. That did not look essential.” “You let me keep my jewelry box and Bella the Bunny. No complaining. Besides, it's for emotional support.” I sigh. “Fine, you win.” We bolted the car seats into the van, the normal seats in the back, and the long seat on the side with no door, and loaded it up with our stuff. Finally, time to leave. Milo enters the driver’s seat, and I sit in the front passenger seat. Once everyone entered, we took one last look at Sector 8, and drove off. Outside the gates, there was nothing but sand, rocks, and cacti. We were on our own.

Chapter Text

The door slams behind me. Deliah is standing at my desk, a piece of paper in her hand. The letter. The one I wrote nights ago. Her seductive smile was replaced with rage. “All those warnings, and you still yearn for filth.” “That was from days ago. You can’t determine the truth from that.” “You still have to defend yourself, why should I trust you?” “You and I both know the truth. I never loved you. You don’t love me either. This whole marriage is pointless.” “This marriage was very purposeful. We need to continue the Helmore lineage.” “Lineage my ass, you only want me for my power and body.” “Really, you would betray everything I have given you for a man who bends over for others.” “Yes, I would do anything for him. Besides, you’ve given me nothing while I give you everything.” Suddenly a sharp pain fills my face. It’s so bad my eyes sting and I nearly fall. Deliah stands there, a war club clutched in her hand. She raises it, sending it to my ribs. I fall to the ground, pain blooming in my chest. More blows follow. One to my face, another to my arm. By the time she’s done, everything hurts. She picks me up by my chin and whispers in my face “You belong to me, not him. You are MY husband, and you will act like it. Obey me, and I will spare you both.” She storms off, leaving me alone, writhing in pain. Time sits still as I process what happened. Fear blooms throughout me as I realize I may never escape this painful torture.