Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I move to the next window of the building, looking down on her. I watch her walk to work, and memorize every detail of her face. If she turned now and looked at the seemingly abandoned building, she’d probably see me standing here, staring at her. But she’s mine, and I can’t not watch her. I can’t look away.
This is all for nothing if I can’t have her by my side. I’ve seen what she’s capable of, and not only is she meant for me, but she’s meant to help lead the resistance with me. She’s getting close now, I can feel it. It won’t be long before she’ll finally take the step.
I know that I want her, but I have to fight for the patience I know I don’t have. I have to dig deep another day and wait. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I keep telling myself it will be worth it. She has to come to me.
I ache for her, but the pain of losing her would be so much greater.
“Sir.”
One the members of our team is behind me, telling me it’s time to go. I know we have things to do, plans to be made, but I have to see her go through the gate. I know she won’t be safe if she’s away from my eyes, but I have to trust that when she’s on the other side she’ll be okay.
I reach out and run my fingers down the cool glass wishing it was her warm, soft skin.
When she scans her badge and passes through, I step back and take a breath. It will have to do for now. I’ll have to make it last.
Turning around, I nod to the young rebel and follow him out of the room. The next few days will be torture, but it’s a pain I welcome. I’ll be pissed off and yelling at everyone, but I don’t care. Because as long as I’m angry, I’m not longing for her. And that’s the pain that hurts the most.
Chapter One
Minnie
I finish my solo yoga stretches alone inside my matchbox-sized apartment like I do every morning. It feels like it’s the only thing that keeps me sane. I wish I could keep going because I need the release of stress instead of going to work. But not having a choice, I push off the mat and go get ready for my day.
Even after all these years, making time for morning rituals helps start my weekend shifts with a keen sense of awareness. I keep my eyes open as I walk through my sad world, watching for others like me, for others who might remember those precious hours of peace and community. The time before it was all broken apart.
I pull my thick hair back in a ponytail and I drag on my scrubs. I grab a quick bite before heading out and making my way towards the gate.
As I walk to work, I try to focus on the things I can control. So much feels beyond my reach that I can’t think about it or it will consume my every thought. With each step I think about the tasks ahead at the hospital. Anything to keep my mind moving, to stop it from being filled with muddled thoughts of what our world has become.
It’s Friday morning and people are milling around, making their morning commute the same as me. I’m a registered nurse with a small, lucky group of professionals from the poor district. We’re able to have more benefits than the people in the poor district, but we are still considered outsiders for the most part. We could lend a helping hand to the elites, but we were always different. I nod to the group of women I work with as we wait at the entrance to enter together. Once we’re all here, I approach the Regime's automated checkpoint and have my chip scanned for access the other side. A world so different from this side of the wall.
This morning is like every other day, and I keep quiet as I turn to the robotic scanner and stare out ahead of me, keeping to myself. It’s a struggle to keep my nose down, but I know no other way. That ten-year-old little girl who lost her mother is still inside me, feeling adrift and unsure of what is right and what is wrong.
I glance over at the old brewery across the street, and for a second something catches my eye. Something moves, and a pale light flickers in one of the dirty windows. Is it a candle? I take a step towards it. I can’t make out what it is from this far away, but something about its shape is odd, yet a familiar feeling settles over me. A memory in the back of my mind fades away as I try to focus on it.