Redemption

Chapter 2

When you feel alive, you don't feel broken. I do not feel alive. I feel manipulated by the Society. The instructor is informed to stay secretive and tedious. They are not permitted to give any student too much information on one subject, for if such information escaped into a child's mind, they would be terminated and sent away. A juvenile mustn't become prone to curiosity. The fate of the Society depends on dullness, especially in knowledge.

I tilt my head. The monotonousness has me distracted. Her lips move quickly and hushed. Even if a student wanted to listen, they must be close enough to the ennui speaker.

The hostess of the classroom turns to each of my pupils in the room. She catches my denotation and ignores it. Towards the end of the hour, I feel a touch tingle up my spine. I glance up in the direction. The instructor had quickly tapped my shoulder and stalked off.

Bewildered at the inappropriate gesture, I risk eye contact with the instructor. She catches my gaze and quickly nods. She recovers and begins her lonesome rant again.

I have no abstraction as to what the simple gesture signaled or proved. As my peers leave, I stay behind. I sit at my table. She closed the door, and began to speak. I had never even heard the faintest, clear voice. It sends a jolt through my spine. I am shocked.

I have been always aware that we could speak our minds, as human beings, but would never dare to try for the consequences could be great.

"Why are you so surprised Miss Rider?" the instructor asks.

For a moment, I debate whether or not to run and inform the officer standing a few paces from the classroom door. My curiosity begs to differ.

I stand transfixed at the woman.

I was taught to never stare to long at one individual. It was an act of defiance along with communicating without authority.

She is beautiful.

I had had dreams of what life would've looked like. She was amongst it. Her hair was different shades of brown, although, it wasn't what I had imagined the color. I had envisioned brown to be similar to my hair color. Dark. The woman's hair was light, almost delicate. It seemed to turn to honey and fire as she turned her head towards the window. Stunning.

I must've shown a look of disgust, for she quickly pulled her long, free hair off of her shoulders and onto her backside.

The woman turned towards me once more, "Please, do not fear. No one can hurt you. Speak out."

She was not but four years older than me, based on her features. She looked 19. She spoke as if she were ancient. The wisdom in her words inspired me to reach out and learn more. What did she have to say?

I blink my eyes and take a deep breath. "How can you be so sure that we will not be caught and punished?"

She does not react to my raspy voice. She doesn't even flinch. My voice is that of the chalkboard that leans carelessly on the dusty floor. As I utter each word, each syllable, it felt foreign. I had spoken this language before, but placid and blunted.

She smiles.

"The man outside the door is a rebel," She says confidently. "He is keeping watch for any certified officer."

I glance around the classroom. "Why are you telling me this?" I use force in my words. My voice rings out. I could hear myself for the first time.

The woman smirks, "The time for answers is not now. The time to break has just begun."

I taste dust as I let my jaw drop. The time to break has just begun. Her voice was pure and implanted in my mind.

I am afraid, but I nod.

She opens the door, and I escape with a simple thought that meant the world.