/ haunted/
• showing signs of mental anguish or torment
"She was fierce. She was strong, she wasn't simple. She was crazy and sometimes she barely slept. She always had something to say. She had flaws and that was okay. And when she was down she g...
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Memories. That's all the past was. Just memories.
Slowly, hesitantly, I lifted my hand and traced my fingers over the cold grey concrete walls; the walls that caged me in as if I was some wild animal, the walls that trapped me within it as if I was a psychopath, the walls that shut me away from everyone else, the walls that stole my freedom, my hope, my life.
A loud, angry cry burst from my lips as my hands balled into fists. I punched at the wall so hard blood burst from a blister on my finger. My deep green eyes watched as the bright red stream trickled down my arm.
I heaved a deep breath as I dropped to a sitting position on the cold hard floor. I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes.
Music was blaring. Bodies were moving in rhythm to the beat. Disco lights were flashing. Games of pool and table tennis were in full force. People were drinking, laughing, chatting. I had never felt more at home.
I turned to glance over my shoulder and my eyes landed on my ever-watchful brother. He gave me a quick grin and a wave and I returned the gesture.
Suddenly, the door to the bar burst open and a entire troupe of guards in black uniforms swarmed inside.
"Inspection!" Commander Shumway, leader of the guard, called out as he stepped inside and swept the room with his steely gaze. "Okay, you all know the drill. Show your I.D. and chips please."
I gasped and stumbled backwards, narrowly missing bumping into some guy behind me. I whirled around and looked everywhere, but I couldn't see my brother.
Panic surfaced within me as I fought my way through the crowd of merry youths towards the back door. I had to get out of here!
Just then, someone grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward and away from the suffocating throng encompassing me. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was my brother, Bellamy.
"Listen to me: whatever happens you get back home, you get back underneath the floor. You'll be safe there ... like always," his urgent words rang in my ears.
"W-what are you going to do?" I queried desperately, tugging on his arm.
"Cause a distraction," he returned as he began to remove his weapon, a shock baton, from his belt.
"Bellamy!" I cried. "H-how do I get home?"
Bellamy froze, then turned to glance at me, "O ..."
"Cadet Blake! Why is your weapon out?" Commander Shumway bellowed from across the room. He shoved his way through the crowd of youth towards us.
"Uh ... sir, she's fine, I've already scanned her," Bellamy stepped protectively in front of me.
Commander Shumway raised his eyebrows and nodded. As he turned away, however, he glanced down towards Bellamy's belt and paused, "You don't have a scanner." He looked at me, "Where your I.D.?"
"Oh, please, Commander Shumway I'm begging you she needs to leave," Bellamy stuttered, his words tumbling over themselves. "As a fellow guardsman, just let us walk outta here and I'll do anything you want ... anything ..."
Commander Shumway narrowed his eyes as he spoke, "Are you a guardsman yet, cadet?" He locked eyes with me as he commanded, "I.D. now!"
I stared at him for as long as I dared, then, without a second thought, I shoved past Bellamy and the commander and made a break for it. I sprinted towards the open doorway, my head throbbing and my breaths coming out in pants.
"STOP HER!" Commander Shumway shouted after me.
I had just reached the door when two guards suddenly descended on me. Wrenching my arms back, they forced me to a stop. Squirming and kicking, I was dragged back into the room and forced to my knees.
Through a haze of tears, I looked up at Commander Shumway's stern, unforgiving face as he stepped forward. "Take her to lock-up," he ordered brusquely.
"Bell ..." I whispered as I was heaved up and onto my feet. I stared into the hopeless, heartbroken expression on his face and gulped. "No ... please."
I buried my face in my hands and groaned, trying to forget what had happened all those weeks before.
"I - I'm okay," I whispered over and over to myself. "You don't get floated until you're 18 at least! I'm only 16. I'll get a review from the Council. They'll free me. I - I'll be alright ... I'll be alright ..." But I knew, even as I rocked back and forth, even as I spoke these words over and over again that I wouldn't be alright - not now, not ever.
It didn't matter what age I was, it didn't matter how many reviews I received, it didn't matter - none of it did. Fact was fact: I was unwanted. I would be dead before my 18th birthday. I was going to be floated for a crime I had committed. That crime? Being born.
RATTLE. RATTLE.
My head snapped up and I stared at my cell door in shock as it flew open. Three guards entered the room, grim business-like looks on their faces. I jumped to my feet, eyeing the shock batons in their hands. "W-what's going on? It's not my time to go! I haven't had a review yet! Please..."
The three men didn't respond, though. They just advanced towards me. One of the nearer guards whipped out a pair of handcuffs as he barked, "Turn around and face the wall."
My heart sank. Tears trembled in my eyes. "No ... please ..."
"Turn around and face the wall ... NOW!" the man shouted as he lurched forward. Grabbing the back of my neck, he spun me around and flattened me against the concrete behind me. I sputtered and groaned in protest but to no avail. My hands were forced behind my back and the cold metal of the handcuffs were snapped around my wrists.
Jerking me backwards, the guard dragged me from my cell and out into the still, empty, white-painted hall. "Take her away," he nodded at his two associates.
"Yessir," they responded simultaneously.
Each of them grabbed one of my arms and began hauling me off, down the long passageway towards a large metal grate that stood at the end of it. The entire way, I struggled desperately to escape, but it was no use.
I knew what awaited me at the other end of that door and I knew it wasn't good.
Maybe I'd been wrong after all. I wasn't going to be dead before my 18th birthday ... I was going to be dead before my 17th.
Gif: Octavia gets taken away in front of her brother Bellamy.
