Ayoo. Just a quick note for y'all. I've been getting comments saying that my chapters are pretty lengthy, so I'll be splitting them up into segments from now on. The whole chapter will still be uploaded at once, but in different parts to make it a little less overwhelming. This chapter has quite a bit in it, but I felt like it couldn't be split into two chapters. Another thing. This is a trigger warning for anyone who is sensitive to stories of sexual assault. There isn't any descriptive assault written, but it's insinuated. I'll put up a more lengthy disclaimer at the heading of the part that has it, and the part right before. If anyone has any thoughts or concerns about it, please pm me. The last thing I want is to take away from the severity of the situation or disregard survivors of sexual assault. I'll go into more detail later, but I needed to put up a general note here. Okay, here's Chapter 2.
All around me, chaos ensues once more. People run in all directions, mainly away from the center of the market. A few curious ones linger on the edges of the scene that has many others fleeing. Children cry in confusion and fear, separated from their families. Names are cried out as friends and families search for one another. I should leave and find Finn, but curiosity gets the better of me. That, and the fact that I've never necessarily been good when it comes to should.
For the second time today, I fight against the current of people running from whatever horrifying incident that has taken place. Although I was terrified earlier, curiosity overpowers the fear and drives me forward. The disappearance of the black smoke – and people no longer acting like raging animals – lessens the emotion as well.
I block out the frightened faces rushing in the opposite direction and follow the sound of pained screams and worried cries. This isn't going to end well. My feet continue to move despite the uneasy feeling pooling in my stomach.
Finally, I shove my way to the front of the crowd surrounding the scene, and the sight before me causes me to slightly regret coming here.
A girl, no more than ten years old, writhes on the hard cement. Tears run down her face as she cries in pain. Green ropes – no, plants? I lean forward, gawking at the sight. Somehow thick, green vines have broken through the ground and have wrapped themselves around the girl.
The vines continue to grow and tighten, and roots begin to accompany them, snaking out of the holes previously created, and squeeze the girl further. She tries to reach out, but her hands are bound together tightly against her chest.
A woman kneeling beside her, the only person willing to be near the girl at all, cries out, "Someone help my daughter, please!" The woman begs the ring of people surrounding her. Her only responses are nervous murmurs and anxious glances.
The girl cries out again as the greenery constricts. Her mother looks at her, struggling to keep herself composed for the girl's sake. "I'll get you out, Vera, don't struggle as much. Please, you'll be fine. Everything will be fine."
I don't know who she's reassuring.
A root slithers around Vera's neck in the blink of an eye and closes around her throat, locking her head in place. The girl screams, but it's cut off by her choking and spluttering. The plants grow and spread faster, venturing towards the circle of people as their screams and legs try to drive them away.
The woman becomes near hysterical. "Vera? Oh, God," She crawls closer to Vera and pulls at the plants that seem to have a mind of their own. Her attempts are futile, and Vera's face begins to turn a sickly shade of purple. Her mother frantically pulls at the root around Vera's neck and is only rewarded with cuts and scratches from the rough bark. "Help! Help! I'm begging you. Someone, anyone!" she pleads. Vera's arms and legs slowly stop struggling as her body slows, accompanied by her mother's desperate cries. and it's enough to finally spur me into action.
Remushing over, I falltofall to my hands and knees beside Vera. I slip my knife out and cut away at the thick vines as Vera's mother talks to her. "Come on, Vera, you'll be fine, hang on." She cradles Vera's face as tears run down her own cheeks. The root is unnaturally thick, and I saw at it vigorously. How did this happen? The plants came out of nowhere and just attacked this girl. What brought them? Is it an Aurelian? Why would they do this? They only want a Transfer, not a regular girl. Unless...
Vera's eyes fluttering closed snaps me from my thoughts and I forgo cautiousness. I hack at the wicked plant until there is barely a quarter inch left and slice at the final fibers, prying the severed root away from the girl's throat. The color slowly seeps back to her face, but Vera doesn't stir.
"Vera? What's wrong with her?" The mother looks up at me with wide eyes swimming with unshed tears. I hesitate for a moment, afraid her worst fear will become a reality, before lightly placing the blade beneath the girl's nose.It stays clear.
It stays clear.
The truth immediately dawns on Vera's mother. "No. No, she has to be alive, she has to. Why isn't she breathing? Please, no." The mother shakes her daughter's body, as if it will somehow allow her to come back. "Vera! My baby, no!" She screams and dissolves into racking sobs.
Determination floods me. The pain of losing family or being lost to them shouldn't be experienced at such a young age. My knife slices through the green roped around Vera's chest. The plants on her body are weaker than the one that had choked her. Knees digging into her side, I hover above her nervously for a moment, praying this works; that the choice to go against what I swore to myself years ago won't be for nothing.
I place my hands along her sternum and pump her chest. "Come on, Vera," I say. "Your future's got more than lying six feet under." Under my breath, I count along to the rhythm of my hands pushing down on the girl. Slowly, I block out everything; the people, the noise. All of it. All that remains is me, Vera, and a desperation for a complete stranger's heart to beat.
"Please," I whisper. "Wake up, breathe," I force everything I have into pushing and silently urging the girl to live. An irrational need for her to come back to life pulses through me. "Dammit, live," I stop pumping her chest and lay a hand over her heart to check for a heartbeat. A sudden sensation – like an electric shock – causes me to snatch my hand back.
Vera gasps and her eyes fly open. She coughs as I gently help her into a sitting position. A breath of relief escapes me, and I drop my head to my chest, an odd wave of exhaustion washing over me.
Everything comes back into focus all at once, the shock of my heightened senses making me reel. The crowd gasps in . Vera's mother embraces her daughter tightly while tears of joy and relief flow from the mother's eyes. She meets my eyes and gives me a grateful, watery smile. Thank you, she mouths. I smile wearily in return.
I sheath my knife and get to my feet. Suddenly, I slip and my hand slaps the ground. A sharp pain in my hand makes me gasp, and I raise my arm. Shards of glass pepper my palm, with a particularly large one in the center. I pull them out slowly, hissing in pain as blood trickles from my hand. Peering down at the ground, more pieces of glass litter the cracked pavement. A milky white liquid pools around the broken glass. My blood runs cold.
The last time I saw that exact liquid was five years ago. There's no mistaking it. Or why it's here.
My heart pounds in my chest as the entire reason for Finn and I's leaving the market comes back to me. How did I forget?
A clap of thunder sounds, closer than when before. Everyone glances up uneasily, the bright mood vanishing as quick as it came. My eyes dart between the liquid-coated shards and Vera. Oh no.
I open my mouth to warn them. To tell the mother and her daughter to run. To try and stop another child falling victim to greed. But at that moment, four men in dark gold emerge from the crowd, an unmistakable crest illustrated on their backs; two swords crossed behind a black eagle with its wings spread wide, spanning the width of each man's shoulders. The royal crest.
Two of the men pull Vera away from her mother. They try to make a grab for each other, but their fingers slip apart as one of the remaining men pin the mother's arms behind her back. The final man grabs a handful of the girl's curly black hair and shove it aside to expose her ear. He folds her ear over and I catch a glimpse of dark green before the man releases her hair, concealing it.
Someone must be actively watching the security because the man signals to it. A large black vehicle backs into the market a minute later. Along with everyone else, I gape at the truck. I can't remember the last time anything like it has been seen outside Aurelian residency areas or palace sector. In fact, I don't think we've seen anything remotely technological or modern – other than the cameras and screens dripping from nearly every corner – outside of the bi-monthly broadcasts aired to tell Standards that we are powerless. As if we need more of a reminder.
A city guard, the same one I saw earlier at the carriage, steps out. He hurries to open the double door at the rear. I peer into the harsh silver-walled opening that contains nothing more than a cot with straps hanging by the railings and a bench attached to either side of the compartment.
The pair of men holding Vera haul her kicking and screaming to the truck. Her mother struggles against the iron grip restraining her. The crowd that rejoiced moments before darkens. Their expressions mirror one another as they gaze coldy upon the girl. Transfers become dangerous if they mature into Relicts after age thirteen, and no one wants another factor added to their stressful lives. The harshness emitting raises the flesh on my arms, the sudden shift from concerned to hateful and dark satisfaction disturbing me.
Tears stream down the faces of Vera and her mother. "No!" cries Vera's mother. "Please, no, don't take her. She's just a child." She searches the faces of the men as their faces betray nothing.
The trio of monsters reach the vehicle with the trembling girl dangling from them, her mother a wreck. "You can't do this! Don't take my last purpose to live. She's all I have left."
Her tone changes from pleading to hostile. "Have some humanity. You've taken it all. Haven't you imprisoned enough children?" she spits. "You've burned us all without a second thought and put our children in cages and slowly drain their lives. You've crippled us, and now there's nothing. All I ask is you leave me with my daughter - one child won't be your downfall."
The woman's words sear through my mind. I should pass them off as delusional ramblings of a woman grieving the loss of her child, but something in her blazing eyes still me. Something in the straightened spine and thrown back shoulders tell me there's more to it than what I can imagine. Something stirs inside me, something ancient and burning like I've never felt. Despite the warm weather, a violent chill seizes me.
The man releases her, letting her collapse to the ground. He moves to assist the other three in loading Vera into the truck as she continues to resist. The man steps into the rear entrance and readies the cot, holding the straps at the ready.
My stomach flips and I can't help but look away, my thoughts teeming with anger and disgust. I clench my hands into fists in an attempt to channel my anger elsewhere and keeping me from acting out. My nails dig deep into my palms, likely drawing blood. There will probably be new scars there later. The last time I interfered with a Transfer, it didn't end well. I rotate my left shoulder absentmindedly.
Vera's mother rises, eyes blazing with fury. "Soulless," she declares. Her voice is thick with tears, but strong. "You take from the innocent and weak and manipulate your actions to make you appear powerful and just. Your lies and trickery have family turning on each other in the belief that Relicts are dangerous and deserve punishment for doing nothing more than living. You take more to prevent Standards from knowing. But you missed some of us. The few that survived have escaped and are right under your noses." The crowd looks at one another, as confused by her words as I am. We? Who's We?
"But soon," she continues, taking a step towards the men. "Soon you will fall. Soon, we won't have to fear for our lives and those of our families. Child–children," she chokes out the word as tears spill down her face. But her head is raised high and she doesn't waver. "Children safe. No more death. No more pain. No more fear. And it starts now." The mother's hand moves to her ear, the same side as her daughter's marking. She clutches her own dark coiled hair and moves it to uncover her ear –
BANG
Vera's mother crumples to the ground. Her blank, lifeless gaze directly facing her daughter. Blood pools around the mother's head from the hole right between her eyes. I turn to the truck as one the man inside holsters his black pistol. For a few moments, there isn't a sound. But the silence is shattered by a heart wrenching wail: "Mama!"
Everyone turns to the slumped form of Vera, hanging by her arms in the hold of the men. She lifts her head and stares in shock at her mother's body, shaking and sobbing. "No. No, no, Mama. Please, wake up. Get up, Mama." Vera fights the men with renewed vigor. "Come on, Mama, please don't die. Don't leave me. Don't let them take me, please, Mama. Mama!" The girl screams in grief, refusing to accept her mother's death. There are people crying. Tears threaten to spill from my own eyes.
The men finally manage to load the sobbing girl. I turn away. I can't bear to watch as they strap her to the cot like an animal. I hear the doors close and the black vehicle pulls out of the market, leaving behind the echoes of a broken daughter's cries and the body of a mother whose empty eyes rest on the truck carrying away a shattered, orphaned child.