Citizen

Chapter five

"Who are you? Are you here to accuse me too?" The president jumped forward, but was thrown back by the chains. Kyra frowned and stepped forward to test the metal clamped around all four of the man's limbs - why he had more chains than the others was a mystery, one she chose not to question.

"No, sir. I want to hear your side of the story." Kyra stepped forward with her arms crossed.

The president pulled himself up at her words as a glimmer of hope sparked in his eyes. "I haven't done anything wrong! I had it all. Everything I could ever want was right there in front of me!" He groaned in frustration, hanging his head against his chest.

"Why are you here then?"

"I don't know, I didn't do anything! Why would I hurt my own people? I am loyal to Arabel, just as they should be to me. Just like you should be; you are, aren't you Kyra?"

That's when it dawned on her. The government wanted loyalty. They wanted her to kill two of the people she loved most and stay loyal to Arabel. It made sense. They wanted loyal citizens to look after themselves and others, to follow their laws blindly - no matter what was trying to threaten them, whether it be a father or a friend.

President Tyrell was innocent. Her father was guilty. James - she had no idea. But she knew what she had to do.

As Kyra backed into the centre of the room, the men began to stir again, their chains extending as they crept forward. The soles of her shoes were slippery with blood, but she didn't trip; her legs were as stiff as lead, keeping her body from falling down. It didn't stop her hands from wobbling though, or the pain blossoming in her chest.

The cool metal of the platform brought her to the present with a jolt.

The president slumped forward on his hands and knees, his back arching with every sob. Kyra tossed him the key. "Unlock yourself." She spoke through taut lips. The light over his cell went dark – one decision made. Two gut-wrenching decisions to go.

Kyra's father just nodded and smiled, as if he knew what was coming next. He was telling her it was okay, even though it was anything but. It only made her angrier. Her real father wouldn't condone this. No good person would.

"You're not real," she croaked.

If he was there he would tell her to do what felt right, not what the society told her was right; as she'd come to learn over the years they were two very different things. Learning was right, listening was right, sticking to her values was right. But murder was not.

"I am, Kyra. I am. I'm as real as I am innocent."

Kyra closed her eyes and let herself see him, something she rarely did. His smile was all teeth and dimples and seemed to make the rest of his face glow. The dark locks atop his head were spotted with grey and shaggy, falling into his hazel eyes. Wrapped around him was Kyra's mother Faye. She pressed her lips against his lightly tanned cheek as he threw his head back and laughed. That was the last memory she had of them both. It was also her happiest.

The gun no longer shook in her clenched hands, and she pushed it away from her chest, straightening her arms for the shot. Kyra's control wavered as she pressed down lightly on the trigger; it was not enough to release a bullet, but enough to make her heart jump to her throat and stomach twist in knots. Two bullets. There was no room for error. It's now or never.

Breathe, she thought. But there was something in her throat, a weight that could only be lifted by the trigger being pulled. Lips taut, she raised her arm, training it on the spot she planned to fire her first bullet. A cry escaped her lips, but she gulped it back, blinking through the tears clouding her vision.

"Never." The gun dropped to her side. She reached for the first aid kit behind her and held it out, just past her father's reach. "If you were real, you would never condone this. You would be fighting this for yourself, for me, for mum, for Danny, for the citizens you promised you would protect."

She closed her eyes. "I'm giving you this so you can heal yourself, you have thirty long years in here to grow. Use them to find yourself."

As his hands closed around the bag, his light went dark.

Sighing, she turned to face the final choice. What else could she call him? Prisoner, best friend, test? Nothing felt right. He didn't feel right.

"Come on, Kyra. The suspense could quite literally kill me." James' voice snapped her back to reality.

There were still two objects left: the gun and the book. She took both in her hands and knelt down at his side.

Smiling, she said, "the real James would murder me if I didn't give him a choice. So, I'm going to ask you: is your dream worth dying for? Would you rather step past that fence and die? Or stay in here for five years, get some therapy and make a difference when you leave?"

He raised his brows. "A book or a bullet. That's a hell of a choice." He reached down to turn the cover over and let out a low whistle. "Good book, too."

"I'm glad it's not my choice to make." She bit her lip and stood back.

James stood with an object in each hand, weighing them out. Kyra couldn't watch but she also couldn't look away; her eyes followed his movements, watched as the book fell to the floor. Before she could stop him the gun was raised to his head. The chains stopped him before he could fall to his knees. He hung there, suspended, frozen, like a marionette puppet. Gone.

---

Kyra's eyes shot open before she fell to the ground. She was breathing short, heavy breaths. Sweat beads ran down her face and hands. She looked around at the same dimly lit room she'd started in, and checked twice, just to make sure there was no blood, no cells and no prisoners.

Kyra's body reacted before her mind, and in seconds she was outside in the foyer, where three new victims were already waiting for their turn. They stared at her, confusion and fear on their faces. She tried to smile, but the tears gave her true emotions away. Pain washed over her like waves that only got harder and more frequent the further she got from that place. It felt like she'd been gone for hours. Outside the sun was as bright as before, the list of Testers still being read. She must have only been gone for seconds.

An Enforcer led her off the veranda. Their vice-like grip was the only thing keeping her from breaking into a sprint. As soon as they let her go she was tearing through the crowd, stopping to stand on the tip of her toes to get a better view. But he was nowhere to be seen. She sighed and slowed her pace to a walk.

"Kyra?"

Her head whipped up. There he was. Alone, arms crossed as he leaned back against a tree. He almost looked normal.

"James!"

His face split into a smile - and then into something even worse. Understanding. Had he gone through the same thing? Whether he had or not, Kyra didn't know and didn't care, as right at the moment James pulled her into a tight hug. She savoured the warmth he gave off and inhaled his sweet scent. His hugs were just as good as her father's had been, only James was real, and her father was not.

"Are you okay?" James whispered into her hair, so quiet that only she could hear.

The words bounced around her skull. I just saw you die, she wanted to say. The thought caused more tears to spring but she buried her head further in his chest. Was she okay?

"No, but I will be."