I don't know how or when I fell asleep, but I know that it wasn't that long ago, and more importantly, I know what woke me.
A loud banging on the door downstairs pulls me toward the door of the room I'm staying in. If I had to guess, the room once belonged to Mr. Jaccobs' daughter or grand-daughter. Dust covers the dressers littered with dolls and pictures of a younger Oliver Jaccobs with a woman and small girl. The room is a sickeningly bright shade of pink, the bed covered in a bunch of frilly blankets and well-loved stuffed animals.
I open the door to my room just as Mr. Jaccobs stumbles into the hall, cussing as he heads toward the stairs. "Who in their right mind is here at three in the morning? Better be something important," he grumbles.
I wait at the top of the stairs as he opens the front door of his house, a series of beeps resounding throughout the structure. He curses again before putting a code in beside the door frame, quieting the foyer again.
"Can I help you?" he asks, though I can't tell from here who's on the other side of the door.
"Oliver Jaccobs?"
The old man nods, looking put out.
"My name is Charlie Wong." My heart stalls, and I work my way down the stairs. "The Leader has sent me to discuss something with Felisha Martins. Is she available?"
"What else would I be?"
Charlie's eyes grow wide when he sees me. He hands the man a tablet with a document pulled up on it, and Mr. Jaccobs just shrugs, motioning toward me. "If the Leader asked, she's all yours. Just do be sure to bring her back. I paid for her after all. That's what I get for drinking at one of those Social Gatherings."
"Felisha Martins," Charlie's voice sounds so formal, "please come with me. The Leader has some things he'd like you to know in regard to your upcoming..."
"Death? Murder?" I roll my eyes. "Oh, are those too blunt?"
Charlie's Adam's apple bobs, his lips pressing into a tight line.
"Please," this is softer, not so authoritative, "come with me."
Mr. Jaccobs looks at Charlie, then at me as though he's giving me the choice of whether to go or to stay. As finite as my desire is to go with Charlie to discuss what's ahead of me, my desire to stay here with this man is even slimmer.
Slipping past Mr. Jacobs, I wander over to Charlie. A look of relief peppers his face that I've accepted his offer. I don't look at him for very long, just enough to see the way his face softens and how his eyes regain a bit of life.
Charlie opens the door for me, thanking Mr. Jaccobs on behalf of the Leader. "I'll have her back as soon as the Leader has had a chance to speak to her."
Mr. Jaccobs shrugs, with a mumbled, "give the Leader my regards."
"Will do sir," Charlie nods, leading me out into the cool morning air. I look up at the starry sky, wanting nothing more than for the sun to come up and erase all that's taken place tonight. But I can't erase it so much as cover it up. Wishful thinking; something I can't afford now; something I've never been able to afford.
"Are you going to look at me?"
I keep my eyes adhered to the gravel in front of me. I can't help but be angry. Charlie's known about the Leader's plans and yet he's allowed me to stay in that cell, rotting away, a game piece to the other inmates. Sure he may not have known the Leader's exact intent, but there should have never been any doubt he was planning to kill me. Charlie had to be aware of that. In what world am I expected to meet his actions with warmth?
"Felisha, please look at me."
I steal a glance in his direction, noticing the genuine sadness in his eyes, the tightness in his jaw, and the way his feet seem to be moving as though they're tugging against tar.
"Why'd you come here tonight?"
"I wanted to see you."
"Well," I shrug, stopping to really look at him, "here I am. Is this what you wanted to see?"
Charlie shakes his head. "I don't enjoy seeing you like this."
"Could've fooled me," I hear the distaste dripping from my words, but the anger festering in my chest keeps me from caring. He's sat back as I've waited on a death sentence for days on end. Rather than helping me, he's allowed this to transpire. "I'm going to die Charlie."
"No you're not."
"Charlie," I swallow the bile rising in my throat as the weight of my statement presses into my stomach, "this is it. I've tried to fight, and I'm losing. The Government's going to keep my execution under wraps until it's too late. By nightfall they'll have the Government sector on complete lockdown. And let's be honest with each other, their "help" they're sending to the citizens is a means of control. Kane won't even know it's coming." I try to ignore the pain stabbing my heart at the thought of how this will affect him. He'll blame himself, of that I have no doubt.
"You don't lose Felisha."
I step forward, my fists connecting with Charlie's chest. I'm too weak for it to do anything. He stands still as I throw punch after punch against his solid chest, my tears blurring my vision. All of Kane's plans, all of his work, what will come of it? I don't want to believe Charlie or Paul; that this fight is a losing one, but right now, I don't know how else to feel. I pray Kane will continue on, that if nothing else my death will spark a fury in him, a hatred that will propel him forward long enough to do what's necessary. I just hope it won't consume him.
"Fel," Charlie grabs my hands between his own, but his grip is gentle, his voice raspy, and he looks into my eyes, "listen to me, we don't have much time." He brings my hands up to his lips, pressing a long kiss to my knuckles. "I know I've failed you, but please know that I'm going to make all of this right again. I don't deserve your trust, but I'm asking for it. Can you trust me?"
I don't know what to say. I do know however that asking me to trust him at this moment is an impossible feat. I want to be able to trust him, but as of late he hasn't given me any reason to. He may not have known the specifics of my execution, but there's no doubt in my mind that he had suspicions of what they wanted to do to me. He could have done something, but instead he cowered, doing their bidding. And what has it gained him?
"Hello?" Charlie holds his hand up to his ear, and I realize after a couple of seconds, he's listening to someone through an earpiece. "Yes, I have her here. Are you nearby?"
I step closer. "Charlie, who're you talking to?"
When he doesn't respond, I ask again, feeling my hands begin to shake.
"Give me a second Fel," he pushes away, walking down, his receding figure stalling at a street, peering down it.
He runs back to me, grabbing my hand pulling me along. My legs struggle to keep up with his sprint as he pulls me down the alley, a pair of dim headlights casting us in light. Panic scratches at my throat, but Charlie squeezes my hand.
"Trust me," he whispers, pulling me to him. I feel his heartbeat thumping against my cheek as he holds me close. His hands find my face, and he dips down, placing a featherlike kiss against my forehead. "I wish I had listened to you Felisha. Maybe things would be different if I had." He looks at the car sitting idly ahead. "I'm getting you out of here, okay?"
"What do you mean?"
"I need you to get in that car. They'll explain."
"They?"
"We don't have a lot of time. That old man's going to get suspicious that we've been gone this long." Charlie reaches into his pocket, handing me two things. My UCP he took from me days ago, and an envelope, folded from being in his pocket. "Stay safe, okay? And please," he nods toward the envelope, "get this to Kane."
"Come with me," I push the envelope back toward him, "give it to him yourself."
Charlie's lips form a tortured smile. "I need to go back, allow you enough time to get away and hopefully give you all enough time to prepare yourself for what's to come. The Government won't react well to this."
He presses the folded envelope into my palm, and without saying anything else begins to turn away.
"Thank you Charlie," I choke on the words, emotions welling in my chest.
He turns back, and the look in his eyes entraps me for a moment. "You're in my heart forever Fel. Please, be sure Kane gets that letter. It's time sensitive, otherwise I'd give it to him myself."
I look to the ground, feeling tears slip down my cheek. Am I really going home? Only hours ago I was forced to accept my death, and now I'm being offered my freedom. I'll see Kane. Amelia. I'll see my family.
I look up, wanting to say more to Charlie, but I realize he's gone.
I turn around, walking toward the vehicle waiting for me, anticipation coursing through me. My hand curls around the handle of the car door, pulling it open.
"We need to hurry," a voice says from the inside, "Charlie gave me specific instructions. We need to be out of the Government sector by sunrise."
"Cullen?" I drop into the seat, relief warming the space between my ribcage. "What's going on?"
A smile tugs at his lips as he shifts into drive, peeling out of the alleyway. "This is a prison break. Buckle up and put on that UCP. We're not in the clear yet."
A/N~ Today is a very big day in America. I am watching the inauguration as I post this chapter. This past year has felt like it was torn directly out of a dystopian novel. Even this year, as short as it has been has mirrored some of that. So, posting this feels sort of odd when what has happened around us feels like it could be a piece of fiction. I hope everyone is staying safe and keeping well.
Questions:
1.) How are you feeling? I know this past year has been really difficult, how are you all?
2.) What are you thinking about Charlie right now? Cullen?
3.) How do you see all of this playing out?
4.) If you could write one moment into this book moving forward, what would it be?
Thank you for your continued support of this story! Until next time, Year Movement,
Sarah :)