Imperfect Freedom

Fifteen

Traitor, traitor, traitor, traitor. The word echoes through my ears. What had he done that was so bad?

And I am about to get my answer, because here comes Nixon Plait, head of the Complex Defiance was walking across the stage right now. He walks to the podium at the centre of the stage and then holds up a hand. The room goes silent, the man stops torturing Sorrel, and the only sound comes from the silent groans escaping his lips.

Nixon frowns solemnly out at the room. I keep my eyes on Sorrel. He looked so worn and tired. His back is streaked with whip marks and gashes and he shudders with each breath he takes.

Nixon taps the microphone on the podium then clears his throat.

"We are all members of the Complex Defiance. We have many names. The silents, the workers, the cards. But we are none of those. We will not be silents, or workers or just cards." His eyes scan the room and I drag my own away from Sorrel to listen to what he is saying. "We are individuals. We are loud. We strive for freedom. So when someone threatens that freedom, when they rag us out, so to speak, we treat them like they are just one of the complexes cards."

I frown. What did he mean?

He shakes his head and frowns, then looks at Sorrel. People are starting to mutter 'traitor' again.

"This boy was discovered helping a captive escape. He betrayed us. He deserves to be treated like he is part of the complex! And what do the complex do to criminals like him?"

Voices all around the room shout 'torture!' I squirm in my seat and Elle grips my arm.

No one is grinning, but almost every face in the room is filled with anger, except the few that hold uncomfortable or stern and annoyed.

Sorrel groans, trying to say something but no one is listening. Nixon holds up a hand to quieten the audience and they stop muttering 'Traitor' and 'torture' for a moment.

Sorrel says something quietly but then starts coughing halfway through. Nixon frowns.

"Speak up, silent."

Sorrel coughs, then clearly says, "Give me mercydt ."

Nixon scoffs and then looks out at the audience. Mumbling starts traveling through the room.

"Did you hear that? The traitor wants mercy. Should we give him any?"

"No!" chants the crowd. My stomach twists. And suddenly, towards the stage is a blur. And then there is a girl. Small with a bob of hair that curls up over her cheeks but doesn't even reach past her neck, and she can't be much younger than me.

"Stop!" she squeals.

Nixon frowns. "Get off the stage kid. A child shouldn't be part of this."

Her face fills with rage. "A child shouldn't be part of this? But he is part of this!" She points at Sorrel, her little 8 year old hand shaking. "And he is a child! You can't kill him."

Nixon thinks about this. "Alright. Take the traitor down."

Disappointed mutters from the audience, but also some sighs of relief. It was clear I wasn't the only person that thought this was wrong.

Nixon then looks down at Tala and frowns, leans over and whispers something to her. She goes pale.

Nixon raises a hand, then lowers it and walks off stage. The girl follows close behind. The people in the room are shocked for a moment at this abrupt ending to the meeting, then suddenly their attention focuses on the crumpled up Sorrel on the stage. They didn't even bother to help him up and take him away, and already rioting people are getting out of their chairs in a motion towards the stage. Most look angry. But some seem frantic, trying to get him out of safety.