Word Count: 2 200
CHAPTER NINE:
Our arrival has a flurry of mixed emotions swirling through me. I'm finally here ... the beginning of my forever. I stand somewhere in the center of initiates as we all stare at our surroundings, taking in what we must now call home. We weren't allowed to visit any other Divisions besides our own and so about half of us, which excludes those who grew up here are still trying to take in the change in environment.
It's beautiful.
It's quite literally a breath of fresh air, so different from my Kru, or rather my ex-Division. We move passed the large, metal gates to be greeted by a smaller version of the capital. Apartment buildings stretch up from all around, loft after loft stacked atop one another to house as many people as possible.
I watch the locals going about their daily business, large numbers of them stopping to watch the new comers. There's nothing calm or serene about this place. Everyone is constantly moving. They're loud, extremely expressive and their moods range from bubbly to brooding.
Gorgeous fountains lay in what I assume is a town square of some sort and part of me feels like this must be the hub of Air Kru. I look around to see large fields in the distance and a massive factory. What exactly it's for, I can't seem to make out?
"What's that?" I find myself asking, beckoning to the bot in my head.
'I believe that's where they clean out the air,' she responds.
It's sensory overload.
It's all so far from home and all that I know, but even with how bold and loud these people seem to be with each other there's a sense of family here. I see it in how there are smiles all over as they tease each other or walk young children to school and the saying, 'It takes a village to raise a child,' couldn't make more sense to me.
There's a defining feature here and it's that almost everyone has something that stands out about them. From bold haircuts to their tattoos and scars that they've chosen to let heal the slow way, it's intriguing. I thought I understood the spirit of these people from spending all those hours staring out the window of a moving bus, but here they're different than anywhere I've seen them. It's nice.
I take note of the one thing that I believe to be common amongst them. All the women have tattoos on their hands. Intricate swirls and sharp lines that look like they must've taken hours to ink, whereas the men have inkings down the length of their right arms, cutting off at the wrist. I watch, my heart warming at the sight of elderly, rich men and woman walking around with their children, bodies still strong and proud.
I make out a rink of some sort that rests on my left and there are numerous banners that boast the symbol that represents this clan: the White Wind Bird.
We're herded forward, walking towards an area that looks like someone dug a hole out of the ground and built an amphitheater within its confines. There's a fire crackling in the center of the structure and I move ahead as I'm pushed by others behind me. I take a seat somewhere in the stands.
"I have taken it upon myself to be here to welcome you to your new home," the voice belonging to the leader of Air Kru announces and I notice that she's accompanied by a young male: her son.
Juniper Dassin parts her lips again, this time dressed in her gray Air Kru uniform as she addresses the crowd of black and I notice a gorgeous piece of jewelry on her neck. It's a golden choker that swirls around her throat and I'm taken back by its beauty. She's paired it with a thick, golden watch on her right hand to match. It looks big, like it should be a men's item, but she wears it with pride and all I can think of is the expense.
It's not often you find jewelry on anyone these days. It costs too much to buy on a whim and there are generally far better things to spend your life on, essentially.
"It is truly a spectacular feat being drawn into a home quite as great as this one. I'm aware that we're not meant to say anything like what I'm about to, but if there was a standard for what a great Division entails ... we'd be the bar," she says causing a light chuckle to ripple through the crowd as her green eyes sweep past us, making sure to give each of us even a second of attention.
My gaze drifts to the male to her left as my thoughts float off, raking my eyes over the black on his back. Kai Dassin – what's been all over the news as of late, besides the explosion that is. The blast made news all too quickly and there are all sorts of rumours that are starting because of it, but the logical side of me encourages me to disregard them. Sometimes all reporters want to do is spark fear.
My heart goes out to the brown haired boy as I think about how he's exactly like me. A Pukka, except everyone staring at him right now knows and they sit here, silently judging. He's got no secrets, nothing to hide and part of me hates Juniper for doing this. All she stands for is the eradication of anyone like me and here she is ... her own son the epitome of everything that she despises. It's like some cruel joke that no one has spared me the luxury of explaining.
I watch as he briefly looks around the crowd, his arms behind his back in quiet obedience and I wonder if he was forced to do this. To stand in front of all these people so it doesn't look like Juniper is trying to ignore the fact that her son was born Retrograde and 'backwards thinking' – her words, not mine.
Being the son of a leading member means he gets to stay in his Kru for a little longer before needing to be taken away for the ceremony, but I can't seem to decide whether or not that's a benefit. His startling blue eyes continue scanning, never remaining on anyone's for very long and I wonder what he's looking for. I subconsciously dread the moment when they'll meet with mine and when they do I expect them to leave just as quickly as they've dropped by, but they don't.
They stick for far too long and I notice him furrowing his brows. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, but for the life of me I can't seem to stop myself from gawking right back. The way he's looking at me ... it's like he knows me and it doesn't seem like I'm someone he doesn't hate. He finally drops his gaze from me and looks down at his feet, but I can't say he looks completely unbothered.
x x x
22 years ago
Feb 4th 2116
PE
I'm worried now. It's been so long since he's gone off on a tangent and done all the unspeakable things he normally does. He hasn't hurt me ... well not really hurt me. This is the third day and still nothing. I've been punished for less than what I've done this week and so far there's barely been a whisper of the mad man inside him.
It's a little scary how different the two sides of him can be. He can go from kind and caring to a man who goes off at the slightest inhale on my part. It's confusing, I don't understand it anymore. On the days when he's the better version of himself I can't bring myself to despise him like I know I should. It just isn't possible, who could hate him?
Everyone looks up to him. He's the definition of what a good, strong leader in the year 2116 should be. Even complete strangers adore him and I'm shocked that the people who know about him still do.
He's weak. Weaker than 99% of the population and yet he's still at the top. A Pukka, a Skid, a Retrograde at the pinnacle of modern society ... and he hates himself for it. Even with all the time in the world, he can't fix that. No surgery will change that. It's his most defining characteristic and I love knowing that I'm at least better than him on the inside.
If the fact that my mother gave birth to a child that had everything he didn't – normalcy – is enough for me to suffer so much abuse, then yeah ... he deserves all that self-loathing. He deserves my hatred too and yet somehow that's one of the only things I can't give him.
His status as a Pukka is a well-kept secret. I'm not allowed to know how he's managed to live this long if he was born like that, but I guess it doesn't really concern me. He was pegged for this position since he was born. It must not have mattered very much what his insides were like back then if anyone cared to keep checking.
"You look nice," he says from across the kitchen table, pulling me out of my reverie.
We hardly speak anywhere else. It's just dinner and breakfast. I try to work up a smile as I look up from the re-heated slush on the table.
Couldn't my mother have at least waited till I could learn how to cook before she just ran off?
"Thank you," I whisper a reply when the silence returns to the room and he smiles at me once again as he resumes his eating.
I suddenly become more aware of the long, dark strands of hair that flow from my scalp and embrace my shoulders. He told me to leave it down last night before bed. I didn't bother to ask why. I don't have much of an appetite so when I'm not thinking, I'm trying to fight my desire to blatantly stare at the man across from me. I watch him chew and then I wait for him to swallow.
Chew.
Swallow.
Chew.
Swallow.
Chew, but he seems to be struggling with the second part.
The spoon in his hand drops from his lips and clatters on the table, causing my heart to jerk fiercely in my ribcage. He desperately starts to cough as he pounds a fist on his chest, his bulky, golden watch protesting the action and his startling, dark green eyes begin to water as his pupils dilate.
I stare, dumbfounded as he fights for a breath of air, clearly becoming quite alarmed by what I imagine to be a deep tightening in his chest. His hands roam between the area above his ribs and throat as he tries to relieve himself of the pain and discomfort. His eyes widen as he searches my direction, silently pleading for me to do something, but I can't.
Whether or not I'm frozen or just unwilling I don't know.
He slips out from behind the kitchen table and I can't tell if he's trying to stand or simply give himself more breathing room. His lips bop open and close, but no sound comes out. He's trapped in a bubble of silent movements, the same feeling that envelops me and flows beneath my skin. Ice.
From what I can tell he's trying to ask me for help, but I'm still frozen, watching as I remain neatly tucked behind my end of the table, my spoon still clutched in my hand.
"P-please ... J-j," he finally chokes out and I take note of the painful warmth in my eyes to match the deep ache in my chest, but I continue to spectate his struggles.
It pools and reaches the point where it begins to overflow, my tears forging a hot trail down my face.
"JunipeR," he finishes, but by then it's already too late.
I watch him collapse onto the floor from the side of his chair, the fear in his eyes ever so prominent. I watch his muted cries for my attention slowly begin to cease while I lift a glass of water to my lips and drink. I watch the days of my abuser slip away, years too soon. I watch the leader of Fire Kru take his final breath. I watch the days of the shell of my father come to an end ... stolen by the weakness only his genetic makeup could've caused at his age. Dead of a heart attack.
I pray to whatever gods may be that he is forgiven for his crimes for he did not know what he was doing; a lost man who has tempted his daughter down a similar path.
"What have you done daddy?" I whisper to his lifeless body in the way he has said to me in the past on countless occasions; with disappointment and suppressed anger.
X X X
A/N
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