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)
He doesn’t correct me or clarify why he has the light burning. Instead he asks me another question.
“Why would you risk everything you have?”
I look down at my scrubs. It’s an obvious sign that I have a good job on the inside. Risking it in some way would be stupid to a lot of people. I’m tired of moving through the motions and keeping my nose down. I’m not living. I’m existing, trying to survive, not living. I want more than that. I want change for everyone. I don’t want other girls to end up trapped, being controlled like I am.
“Because if I don’t do something to help, then nothing will get better for the girls who come after me. I don’t want them to be forced to marry if they don’t want to. Forced to live lives they don’t want.”
Those words make him lean even more towards me, and in the light I can see something in his eyes. I don’t know what it is, but he looks me up and down and I feel exposed somehow.
“You’re married?” This time the question is accusatory, and he sounds angry. His whole body is tight, his breathing erratic. Anger permeates the room and it feels as if the place could ignite. “When did this happen?”
“No, not yet. But my twenty-fifth birthday is months away and The Regime is preparing me for marriage.”
“You’re not going to.”
I don’t know why his response sounds like a command, but it sends a thrill though my body. I try to ignore it.
“I have to get married. I don’t have a choice. I’m one of them.” I have to push those last words out of my mouth because it feels like a lie. It feels wrong.
“You live here.” His tone is dismissive.
“I’m a scholarship student. Every year they choose an ‘illegitimate’ girl to go to one of their schools. I was one of the lucky ones.” My voice is flat, because somehow it doesn’t feel as if I’m lucky. Can I really be considered that if the people I live around are all suffering while I advance? What makes me so special?
“Why did they choose you?” He leans forward farther, and he’s so close I can smell his deep, earthy scent.
For a second I’m caught up in his dark eyes and I don’t remember to respond. When his eyes travel to my mouth, I lick my lips. I briefly wonder what it would feel like to have his mouth on mine. I blink and swallow before I realize I’m supposed to answer him.
“To keep me quiet about my mother. She disappeared. Well, they actually took her. She was a peaceful protester, but she had a large following. She was a teacher of our history and the truth. The Regime didn’t like it.” They didn't like anything but obedience.
“And now you want me to help you do the same.” He studies me like I’m some kind of complex theory. I can’t be the first person to ask him for something like this.
“I’ll be married soon and I’ll have to live over there. I won’t get the chance to learn any more about our ways here once I’m on the other side of the wall permanently. I want to know everything I can before it’s lost. Before I’m lost.” A hard ball sits in my stomach at my own words. Lost. That is what I will be when I’m on the other side of the wall. The Regime built those walls to keep people out, but I always feel trapped when I’m on their side.
The last words are the truest ones I’ve spoken in a long time. And it’s the root of my fear. That once I’m beyond the wall for good, I will be gone inside.
He shakes his head and looks away from me. The dim light shows off the edge of his jaw and I wish I could touch it. I wish I could touch him. Maybe it would wash away the emptiness I feel more and more at the thought of having to marry. Of being trapped on the other side forever. No longer able to help my own kind.
“It all sounds pretty noble, but you realize learning our history and finding peaceful ways to resist aren’t going to change anything. A bunch of privileged elites who indulge their rebellious streak once in a while aren’t going to help our cause. The only real change that can happen will be through actions, and those, princess, won’t be peaceful.”
He looks back at me and there’s anger in his eyes again. I have the urge to slap him. It’s an unfamiliar feeling. He doesn’t know anything about who I am or what I’ve been through. He’s ignorant to the inner battle I fight every day.
“We can only be passive for so long. Sooner or later we will have to take up arms.” I see the truth in his eyes and it’s ripping at my heart.