Within the Walls

Chapter 1

A fresh spike of anger courses through my veins and my hands clench at my side. The Convex are already dust and bones. We cannot handle this.

"The curfew tonight for all the Convex sector is 2200 hours. The Tranquillity patrolmen will kill anyone caught outside."

Burning anger sears through me as I break into a brisk walk, pushing past the cluster of dispersing people.

"Elle!" Isabelle calls after me, and I can hear her footsteps scurrying after me. But I do not stop. "Elizabeth!"

My breath catches and I whirl around. "Do not call me that, Isabelle. You know I hate that."

Her hard expression softens as she tucks a red curl behind her ear. "What's wrong, Elle?"

"Them," I stress, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "I don't understand how we matter so little to them."

"Elle!" she snaps, giving me that harsh glare that reminds me of our mother. "Do not speak in such a manner."

"I'm just over it, Isabelle. I am sick to death of fearing them. Why do they treat us like this?"

She sighs and steps up to me. "We are nothing but pawns in their little game, Elle."

"I wish they would stop playing with us and discarding our bodies."

Scowling indignantly, I turn around and stalk down the street. I keep my gaze fixed forward to ignore the beggars at my feet. Although I am pulled to a stop by a middle-aged woman crouched outside our apartment building. The woman is so thin her ribs stick out from beneath her dirt-stained shirt. She's accompanied by two hollow children. The woman's stomach swells, evidence of a third child on the way.

"Please." Her voice is rasping and hoarse. I am afraid that she will have a coughing fit, which would alert any nearby Tranqs, who would quarantine her. "I must feed Rosie and James."

Wordlessly, I nod and hasten the stairs to my apartment, where I skid to a stop in the small kitchen and fish around the paper bags of goods. I empty a bag of firewood and refill it with three potatoes and several bread rolls. Scooping up the package, I stumble back down the 60 steps to where the small family remains seated on the dusty concrete. I thrust the package at the woman and the children scramble to peek inside. As I watch the grins on their too-youthful faces, my anger subsides. The woman lifts her gaze up to mine and with an obvious effort, nods a thank you.

I cannot stand the sight of the starving family any longer. I tear my eyes away, rounding the side of the building. I reach up to the first window and hoist myself up onto the ledge. Picking my way up the side of the building, my muscles strain with exertion as I reach the top. My fingers grip the gutter and I lift myself up onto the flat rooftop. I shuffle away from the edge and brush the dust from my hands as I scramble to my feet.

I reach behind me and grip the handle of my sword, withdrawing it from its scabbard. I hold my father's sword against my chest, the tip of the blade pointed towards the sky. Snorting, I examine my fragmented reflection in the blade. My steely grey eyes stare sharply back at me, narrowing, and my freckles scatter my nose and cheeks. The hood of the coat covers my wild red curls from prying eyes. I run my forefinger down the side of the blade, allowing it to sever my skin. I smile in satisfaction. With one swift movement, I swipe at the air, slashing and ducking as if the wind is my assailant, and I am determined to get the upper hand.

These Walls meant to protect us from the relentless surges of the ocean beyond. But now they are our cage, our prison. Although the city is vast, the Walls restrain us.

I stumble over to the edge of the building where I sink down, allowing my legs to dangle off. The sun sets over by the Western Walls. The sky is an array of yellow, pink, and indigo. Her evening rays cast shimmering reflections of light on the palace in the far distance. The sailboat shaped Palace sits before the Northern Walls in the Concave Sector, its mast rising high into the air, meeting the sky. The ruddy, brown, run-down buildings are pitiful in comparison. Its malnourished children are a testament to this. The water falling from the Western Walls cuts across the city, dividing the land in two. It is the physical split between oppression and freedom.

The sky melts into a deep navy blue, and the stars make their appearance. My father used to take Isabelle and I to the edge of the River. He would tell us of the stars. "Elle, Isabelle, every time a star dies, a story dies with it. If we can remember these stars, they may never die. We ought to keep telling them to our children."

I have heard stories of our ancestors in lands before our Walls when there was such a high concentration of air pollution that the sky was often murky. The smoke hid the stars. I cannot fathom being unable to see the night sky. It's like having a window into another world, constantly beckoning me to explore. I have also heard stories of our ancestors reaching the moon. That may not be a possibility for me, but I have a longing, a desire to explore what lies beyond our Walls.

What would I find if I broke my own boundaries and the ones that trap me within this city?

I believe it is. Nothing can be worse than spending an entire existence trapped by the same cage.

Stealing myself, I pick my way back down the building and drop to the stone-paved alleyway. My muscles ache and I slump forward, dragging my feet into the apartment and up the stairs. As I approach my door, wracking coughs echo from within.

My blood churns through my veins, and my heart whacks against my bones.

The First Cough is all too familiar. A scratching, unstoppable rasp. I close my eyes and brace myself. Pushing the door, I wrench my eyelids open. Isabelle has crumpled to the floor. Her eyes snap up to me, rimmed with red.

She coughs and her blood splatters across the floorboards.

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Hello! I really hope you have enjoyed Within the Walls so far. I have really enjoyed planning and writing it. Please let me know what you think of my new novel, I would truly appreciate your feedback. Please vote too!

~ Emma

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