Citizen

Chapter five

"I... I think you're innocent, but I have to make sure." Whether she was telling the truth or not was a mystery to Kyra, but she said it nevertheless.

He nodded in understanding, before dropping his head. It wasn't like him to give up so soon. As she backed away, his form froze again, and the wall became glass once more.

Kyra went to James next. His face was coated in dirt. The dark circles under his eyes somehow stood out more than usual. Even though he was smiling she had never she seen him look so tired, so sad, so depressed - surprising considering he was ninety percent caffeine and ten percent human. Seeing him in pain was worse than anything she could imagine tenth fold.

With a heavy heart weighing down her hand, she pressed his button. She was yanked forward, her body slamming into another one. It was a hug full of gangly limbs and uncomfortableness, and even though his legs were the things that had pulled her inside, and were still wrapped around her waist, she couldn't help but smile. James was always James.

Then she realised where she was. What the test was trying to do to her judgement.

Straightening her jumpsuit, she stumbled backwards out of the cage, avoiding James' gaze. His eyes were usually a soft baby blue, spiderwebbed with navy towards the edges. If she saw them she knew her resolve would disintegrate.

"Kyra." It was nothing more than a breathy whisper, but it made Kyra's knees weak and her stomach drop to her feet. There was so much pain in his voice that Kyra couldn't help but look up.

James' gaze raked her body, taking in every inch of it as though he hadn't seen her in years. Maybe he hadn't. He looked older, with a small amount of stubble covering his chin and faint wrinkles around his eyes. Even so, he couldn't have been older than twenty. She shook her head; the test was messing with her judgement.

"I, I know how it sounds, and I know you might not believe me, but I didn't do it. I didn't leave. I couldn't do that to my parents or my family or... You. And if I did leave, I wouldn't do it without saying goodbye." He looked down at the ground as a tear trickled down his cheek. The last time she'd seen him cry was in fifth grade, when his grandfather had passed away, and even then he'd only shed one tear. "I didn't do it, I swear."

"But if you could have, you would have, right?"

He looked down. "You know I would have. I can't stay here Kyra, I can't stay in Arabel living a meaningless life until I rot away into nothing. If that means you have to kill me, so be it. I'm innocent now but you know I won't be forever."

Words failed her. She'd never been able to lie to him, no matter how much she wanted to. "I don't know what to do," Kyra admitted, staring into his familiar eyes. She turned around to take a deep breath.

"But you know me, and that should be enough."

Before she could respond he was frozen once more. Having the last word - a James-esque move. Would she- no, could she kill him? Even if it was fake, if this was all made up to test her, could she pull the trigger on her best friend? On her father?

Kyra opened her eyes and stepped in front of the middle cell, but refused to look the president in the eye. Instead she focused on his shoes, perfectly polished leather. It seemed whoever had designed him had forgotten about faults, and instead focused on fashion. Of course. At least one thing had to be perfect.

Kyra had always wondered how old President Tyrell really was. For as long as she could remember, he'd always looked the same. Cropped black hair, smooth dark skin and always the same thin smile. He was the image of perfection, not a single hair strand out of place. On closer examination, it seemed that age was catching up to him. She pressed the button.