chapter 4
the twentieth of may, 2155
Nancy and I seek refuge from the crowded hallways in the bathroom. I'm on my third attempt to look decent today, and Nancy has yet to even look at herself in the mirror.
"Have you... told anyone what happened with Daniel except for me?" I ask as she sits on the counter beside the chrome sinks, her back leaning against the minty green wall. She hasn't been here at school much since she nearly vomited in the classroom, so I'm taking advantage of one of the few opportunities I get to talk to her.
"No," she shakes her head. The sound of careful commotion blurs behind the bathroom door as I dig into my purse. I pull out a lipstick, and I offer it to her.
"Here," I try, but she shakes her head, putting her hands in the pocket of her hoodie, which I didn't even know she owned.
"Have you talked to Daniel?" I question, because I have to know if she's even considering forgiving him or anything of the sort.
"He has tried calling me, but I didn't answer," she shrugs.
"Good, don't. Don't even go near him, Nancy." I clasp the lid of the lipstick back on, and I turn to her.
"Then what am I supposed to do, Lia?" she bursts suddenly, her voice breaking in frustration. I take a step towards her, and she covers her face with her hands.
"Am I just supposed to keep going?" she bellows into them, a glimpse of her tired eyes peeking through her fingers.
"Am I supposed to walk into this building every day, and sit behind him like nothing is wrong? I don't have another choice, do I?" She breaks down slowly, a rare tear falling from her chin. I look over at the door, making sure no one is able to hear us. I get close to her, surrounding her shivering body with mine.
"Shh, Nancy. I don't want to say this, but you can't do this here." I whisper. As she said the night that it happened, no one can find out.
"I was so sure... with him," she continues. She leans against me, sobbing into my shoulder.
"But now, Amelia! My ceremony is in five weeks! What am I supposed to do? I have to be claimed, a- and if Daniel is the only one who-"
"Nancy, you have to be quiet," I cut her off. I feel horrible for saying it, but if someone found out about it, she would get in trouble.
There have been close to no reports of men forcing themselves on females over the years. But that doesn't mean it doesn't happen, it means that few actually report it. It's technically illegal, but you would think it wasn't. The females who step forward are usually shamed and humiliated. That isn't even considering unclaimed females. No law applies then.
Females who go unclaimed on their ceremony lose all of their rights and are no longer recognized as human beings by the government. They can be murdered, and the perpetrator will face no charge.
"I know, I know, I know... But what am I supposed to do? I can't be claimed by him Lia, I just can't, I can't!" Her voice strains as she yells, her eyes frantically pointing in every direction. I have to calm her down.
"Nancy, you know as well as me that Daniel won't be the only one who stands up from that crowd."
"You'll get to choose," I encourage, but her eyes remain hopeless. I wipe her tears, making sure to get every drop. As her breath grows steady again, I take a step back. I grab the lipstick out of my bag, offering it to her for a second time. This time, she takes it - applying a semi-neat coat of red onto her lips after wiping her tears.
"Thanks," she sniffs as she gathers her stuff. I give her a hug, as she tidies her frizzy hair.
She smiles weakly at me as we join the stream of people in the hallway. We get to our classroom, and it turns quiet once everyone sees us.
We ignore it after exchanging a look, walking to our seats among the stares. I follow right behind her, before a girl sitting down, Willah, locks our way by putting her foot in front of us.
"Nancy, hey! Lost any virginity lately?" she squeaks, inducing minor laughs ahead of us. Nancy lets out an immediate exhale, crouching forward like she's suffered a blow to the stomach.
"Excuse me?" I blurt, and Willah shifts towards me.
"Amelia! Didn't see you there," she says.
"Well, now you do. Put your foot back." I demand. She lets out a scoff, and I snap - giving a kick to her polished blue shoes.
"Put your foot back I said."
"Well look at you two! Frizzy and floozy," she says after a gasp, a subtle tinge of irony bound to her sentence.
"Don't call her names," I say. My eyes examine the room, and they land on a blonde-haired boy, sitting in the front row. The sudden realization that Daniel has told everyone what happened between him and Nancy hits not only me, but Nancy too, as she clings onto my hand, staring warily at him.
"Amelia, she lost her virginity before her claiming ceremony! It's gross," she argues, her eyes widening like I'm the one who's out of line. I shift towards Daniel's seat, and he's observing the situation closely. His eyes are at a squint, but I can tell--amusement is hiding behind them.
I feel my gut twist when I consider that all of this, all of what Nancy has been put through for the last week, is because a boy decided to take advantage of her. It's not fair.
"You have to have sex in order to lose your virginity," I breathe deeply, heat spreading from my chest to the tips of my fingers. I hear cautious, slow footsteps entering the classroom, and I sense the will to turn to the door and see who it is, but I remain immovable.
Anger curdles around inside of me as the demeaning peer of Willah's eyes drill deeply into Nancy. Among the sea of beaming eyes, in the moment of frustration, I complete my sentence.
"And rape isn't sex."
My body quickens, and I'm able to turn around to the head of the class once I hear a loud slam. My body shifts first, seeing Willah's stunned eyes before I adjust to the teacher, having just crashed his books against his desk.
"What?" Mr. Whicker bursts—moving beside the desk, his fingers tracing the edge of it like he's checking for dust. His dress shoes tap the floor, his quiet footsteps approaching Nancy and me. His eyes shift between Nancy and me, as we are the only one standing.
"What was that you said?" He asks again, leaning his head slightly forward. I panic, my head turning cold and the anger freezing into fear.
"Nothing, I'm sor-"
"She accused Daniel of rape, Sir." Willah's cutting voice interrupts me, and my jaw clenches, deciding not to even look at her. I look directly at the teacher, but I see Daniel shifting his sight between me, Nancy, Willah and Mr. Whicker in the corner of my eye.
"Is this true Amelia?" Mr. Whicker presses, taking another step towards me. My lips part for me to start talking, but the chords in my throat fail me, and a suppressed sigh emerges. He puts a hand on my shoulder, and every fragment of bravery in me evaporates. His hand tugs at the side of my arm, hauling me towards the door. As I'm out of the classroom, I notice he grabbed Nancy as well.
The next thing I know, we are heading down the hallway, without a single word spoken. We are moving so fast, that the lockers beside us convert to a blur.
I catch a glimpse of Nancy, as she limply tries to keep up with the speed of which he is dragging us. Her face is pale, and her eyes are locked ahead of her. He has a grip on her grey hoodie, making a fist into the fabric. He lets go of it a couple of times along the way, to push open the swing doors leading up to... the principal's office.
He sets us down on a couple of chairs and knocks modestly on the office door. I finally take a breath, trying to collect the thoughts multiplying in my head. I dare to turn my head for a second, but Nancy is as frozen as ever.
I hear a muffled sound from inside the office, and the teacher opens the door, shutting it behind him.
"What did you do?" Nancy whispers, her lips barely moving. My head sinks between my shoulders, and a cold breeze of guilt washes over me. What did I just do?
These things aren't taken lightly. Since I can remember, I have only heard about five cases of accusations. Ever. And no more than one of them ended with persecution, if you can even call it that. The man was imprisoned for three months.
The door opens, and Mr. Whicker lays a flat palm beside him, signaling for us to head inside. I stand up, my breath wavering. I turn to Nancy, and she closes her eyes, exhaling deeply. She gets to her feet, her lips pursing tightly. Her hand wraps around my arm tightly, clenching on my wrist as we take idle steps into the office, sitting down on the two wooden chairs ahead of his desk.
The principal has his fingers intertwined, his arms broadly resting on the polished oak desk, intricate patterns carved into the wood at the edges of it. He's wearing a faded grey suit, an intensely blue tie laying under his vest. His pale silver eyes observe us both intently, his coarse eyebrows sitting low on his face.
"Amelia Sayle, Nancy Sagner." He speaks our names, his rusty voice reverberating through the air, reaching the corners of the room.
"Your teacher informed me of some disturbing news," he says. His head leans forward slightly, raising his eyebrows to uphold our eye-contact. Nancy has her hands clenched around the arms of the chair, her body almost paralyzed. My view is centered on the small wooden square at the edge of his desk, with his name "Principal Forrester" carved into it.
"Nancy, your friend Amelia made some severe accusations about another student, Daniel Henney." He directs his eyes right at Nancy's weak frame, his face stiff. Nancy's lips part and she tries to speak.
"O-Ok," she stutters.
"Do you know what she accused him of?"
"Uhm, yes. I was there," she says, her voice fragile.
"And what was that?" He taunts, forcing her to say the words out loud. My gut sinks, compelling me to shut my eyes. She has never had to say the words before.
"That he... assaulted me," she attempts. His eyes squint, looking back at me. His fingers are still intertwined as he lifts them off the desk, putting his elbows up.
"Accusations of the sort are something we take very seriously here, so we want to make sure of what happened. Is there any truth to this, Nancy?" he asks, and I turn my head towards Nancy. She looks back at me, her grey eyes loaded with doubt.
"I..." she starts, unable to continue. She glances over at me again, a question mark covering her face. She doesn't know what to say. The next thing I hear is the principal's heavy sigh, and I harden as I see him get up from his chair, circling the desk. He walks to stand in front of her, leaning back against the edge of the table.
"Before making an allegation like this girls, you need to know the repercussions of lying about it." I'm about to let out a scoff, but I bite my tongue before it happens.
"First off, do you have any proof?" He asks, and my jaw clenches tightly, reaching for Nancy's hand. She grips mine firmly as soon as she feels it.
"Secondly, did you entice him in any way?"
"What were you wearing?"
"From what I gather, you're no stranger to male attention, right?"
"Wasn't he your boyfriend?"
"Boys will be boys."
I pick up on a few sentiments he makes throughout the 15-minute long "conversation," each one aggravating me more than the last. I wish I could tell him to stop talking. I want to tell him to shut up, but that'll only make things worse. He pauses, folding his arms. I hear Nancy unsteady breath, as she looks up at him for the first time.
"Now, Nancy. I'm going to ask you again; Is there any truth to the accusation that Amelia made against Daniel Henney?" His eyes flare at her, stifling any dignity left in her. My hands curl into fists and as she glances at me, we both realize there is only one admissible answer.
"No, Sir."
He shifts, an iniquitous stare descending onto me. He walks over to the door and opens it, a trace of a smile in the corner of his lips. And without saying a word, he puts his hand out, wanting Nancy to shake it. So she does, and so do I.
"Nancy, I'm so sorry-" I say as soon as he shuts the door after us, but Nancy is already on her way back to the classroom.
"Don't." She declines, and I feel a cold wash of guilt over my body. That was all my fault. Once again, I made the mistake of not staying quiet.
"I can hardly breathe," I gasp as Mother tightens the dress, pulling at the strings on the back of it. The tall mirror reflects the entirety of my body, wrapped firmly by a deep green dress, a tight corset beneath it. She combines the strings into a perfect bowtie at the arch of my back.
"Now, Amelia. I don't want to hear you complain at all tonight," she tells me, backing up into a chair by my bed. She sighs heavily, fixing her hair.
"This night is important for your Father, and you have to behave," she says. Her hands are neatly placed on her knees. She looks at me from beside my arm into the mirror, a small smile appearing on her face.
"You don't have to worry, I'll just be... quiet."
"Yes, good. Great. Good." she mumbles, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ears. She stands up again, putting her hands on my upper arms, stroking them.
"You look beautiful my girl," she says, her hands cold.
"Thank you, Mother."
"We're leaving now," Thomas says, popping into the room for a second before leaving again. I take a final glance in the mirror, feeling misplaced for some reason.
I keep my back straight, as I'm afraid it would snap if I didn't. Mother leaves the room and I walk slowly behind her, loosening the strings on the back of my corset just a tad so that I am able to breathe properly. We meet Thomas and Father downstairs and we walk outside, into a big black car.
The inauguration ball is every year, and it's the biggest party of the year, filled with government officials and societal elites. It's one of the many times I have to keep my guard up for hours on end, with no break.
The night is usually just greeting people who come up to Father, to congratulate him on another year as mayor. He is entering his twentieth term. That's the whole point of the party, to celebrate the mayor's inauguration. There is a government-committee working close with the president that elects mayors for each city, and I guess they think that Father has done a good job over the years.
The swarm of people becomes more apparent as we approach the venue, and I see the familiar faces of people whose names I've forgotten. Father gets out of the car first, and we follow him into the crowd. He greets some of them, repeating the same sentence to all of them.
"Frederick, great to see you!" He shakes a man's hand on the way, patting him on the side of his shoulder.
I have set a goal not to speak unless it's absolutely necessary. Father moves through the crowd greeting people on his way, and we walk behind him until we get inside.
The venue is beautiful. It's a big ballroom, with multiple sets of chandeliers evenly placed across the high ceiling. Our steps are silent because of the carpet beneath us, embroidered with intricate details of patterns and of course, the cross. At the other side of the entrance, there is a stage with a podium, where Father will hold his speech. I shudder at the thought.
We get to our table, my name written on a card beside a plate. I sit down quietly, as Father continues his greeting parade with visiting supporters across from me.
"And you! Your ceremony is right around the corner, isn't it? Are you excited?" I hear, and I realize that it was directed at me. I look up, and I see a tall man with silver hair standing next to Father. His eyes are dark, with nearly no color at all in them. He smiles at me, his deep skin tone making his teeth look white as porcelain.
"Yes, Sir. I'm very excited," I lie, sitting up straight. He nods, something about his smile making me feel less nervous.
"I'm Martin," he introduces himself. I've seen him a few times before at different events over the years, but I've never heard his name before now. I get up from my chair to greet him, my Father intently studying my every move.
"I'm Amelia, it's nice to officially meet you Sir," I say, reaching my palm out. He surrounds it with his own, a low chuckle from his throat making the floor vibrate. He lets go of my hand and turns to Father again.
"Twenty years have gone by fast, to be honest," he speaks into the microphone, elevated above us all. The champagne in Father's glass still fizzes as he stands there, the most powerful man in the room. His stare visits every set of eyes in the room, landing on mine as he wraps up the speech that has lasted for about ten minutes.
"But I am still - and always will be - proud to serve this great city and this great country," he tells, the lights dim on his face. Each table has a small lamp at the center of them, which makes it so you can barely see people's faces. As my eyes travel across the room, trying to entertain myself, I suddenly notice someone looking right in my direction.
"So tonight, let's celebrate the Patriarchy and all its values." The speech continues in the background, as I squint to see the color of the eyes that are staring right through me. It's a man, and he sits two tables down. The table I'm sitting at is closest to the stage.
"But let's also remember the sacrifices men have made for us to get to where we are," Father continues, and even though his voice is being magnified by the speakers on either side of him, I can barely hear it now. I see a faint glimpse of a smirk on the face in the dark, his lips curving in a way that makes me uneasy.
"Let's remember that the unclaimed and their sympathizers have tried tearing down our functional, natural way of life for decades," Father raises his voice, and I force myself to look away from the eyes in the dark. Father sends a disapproving glare my way, and I figure it's because I paid attention to something else than him for about thirteen seconds.
"As we move into another glorious term, we remember everything we sacrificed to get here. Thank you," he finishes, and it's followed up by the applause of the people around me.
As soon as Father walks off stage, the light from the chandeliers increase, so I try to find the man with smirk two tables down, but everyone stands up to applaud, and I cannot find the eyes I was looking at. Hundreds of hands clap together, overpowering the sound of my own thoughts.
"Amelia, applaud." Mother nudges me, and I turn my focus to Father again. I begin to clap, peeking a few times back to the table where I saw him. I manage to find his chair, but it is now empty.
The noise dies down as Father sits down as well, putting his hand on Mother's thigh. He looks at me, and I notice a small... smile? He nods his head, making me realize that he's not looking at me, but past me. I turn around to see what he's looking at, and my breath hitches when my eyes adjust to the smirk I saw in the dark.
"Hello again, Amelia."
author's note
Oop. Who do you think it is?
Did you like this chapter?
See you in the next one. All love, -Thea.