In a futuristic society where people are differentiated and valued based on the purity of their genes, can a person define for themselves who they really are? Or does The Gene Test provide the answer for them?
Depression... Addiction... Criminality...
He pops the top button of my blouse open and begins to attack my neck with his bacteria-coated lips. I use every ounce of energy in my body to fight against him, but how can I win a fight without my arms?
Suddenly it hits me. The limit fight.
There's no use trying to utilize a body part that's handicapped, so you gotta go for the next best thing.
Blue belt in taekwondo, don't fail me now...
I lean my body off the wall, raising my leg, then use my momentum to push my back into the wall while forcefully kneeing him, straight in the groin.
He howls and releases me, doubling over onto his knees.
In a flash I'm off the wall and turning the lock on the door, ripping it open and running as far away from that supply closet as possible.
I can hardly breathe and I don't even know when the tears started streaming down my face. All I know is that I need to scrub it all off. I need to scrub off every trace of that revolting guy that's on my skin, and burn it away from my memory.
***
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I'm walking across the bridge conjoining two buildings in the East Wing when I see Sterling leaning on the railing in the middle. I would take another route but this is the only way across to the main building, so there's no escape.
"Ally!"
I ignore his call and keep my head down, walking briskly across the narrow bridge while praying that he won't stop me midway.
When I'm passing by him, my foot hits something hard, causing me to lose my balance and stumble.
As I fall towards the ground, I'm caught by two strong arms, and dipped downwards. I'm leaning backwards, with only my heels on the ground, supported solely by his hands around my back. Our faces are only inches apart.
Inches.
Like, three, max.
My heart is beating so fast right now that I could probably break a world record. Being this close in proximity to a boy's face (one that looks like his at least) is definitely dangerous to a girl's health. Her mental and emotional health, that is. But I can't do anything about it, because if I move I'll most likely be dropped, and I'd fall straight to the floor on my butt.
"Better be more careful next time, ally. Looks like you're falling for me."
