Start writing your story
A glass of sparkling cider shatters onto the concrete floor as four calloused hands abruptly seize my arms. My body is paralyzed with fear and a whirlwind of thoughts swarm my head. Is it possible the government knows about the Jùjué? Is Alfie safe? Where's Reb? Suddenly, a guardsman shoves me from behind and I'm plummeting to my knees. Tears spill lifelessly from my eyes as I scour the room, hopeful for a knight in shining armor. However, all I spot are faces of fright or disgust. The party goers divide as I'm dragged towards two steel doors where another pair of guardsmen wait. One of the guards scan their badge and the doors fly open.
"No! What are you doing to her?!" I hear a voice, who I assume belongs to Reb, shout as my body is thrown carelessly through the doorway. "Why are you taking her?! She hasn't done anything!"
"STOP!" The doors slam shut. It's just a squad of terrifying men, and me. Quickly, I press the silver charm on my necklace as to alert the Jùjué I've been captured. Now, wherever I'm imprisoned, the Jùjué will be able to find me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of the all too familiar symbol I need in order to escape. It's printed on the wall 30 feet away, taunting me. Urging me to use every ounce of power I have to break free. After a couple of seconds, the guards' grip seems to loosen and I ponder whether to use this moment of fragility to getaway.
Within the walls of my imagination, an escape plan slowly materializes. I watch myself pinch the pressure points of the two guards detaining me. They collapse to the floor. As the two other guards attempt to recapture me, I see myself snatch one of the guards' guns. Sprinting towards the Jùjué's symbol, I observe myself firing bullet after bullet in their direction. My hand presses the silver charm to the wall's symbol and smoke pours into the hallway. Straightaway, I disappear into the opening of the wall, sliding into the safety of the Jùjué. I'm free.
I'm torn inside. But as the symbol rapidly approaches, I know I must choose. Do I risk my life and go ahead with the imaginary escape plan? The entirely theoretical scheme, that in the crazy realm of my head, seems to work out somehow, despite my nonexistent strength. Or do I choose to relinquish my power to these elitist guardsmen? In spite of the promise I made to my brother. The promise to continue rebelling no matter what dangers I faced, for the greater good.
All of the sudden, a surge of rage swells through my body. I'm furious. The memory of my parents' death crawls out from the depths of my brain and finds itself chained to the spotlight. My hands form tight fists. The cries of my little brother as he writhes in agony rings throughout my ears. My body is shaking. I know what I must do the moment I feel a tug on my arm, calling my attention to the slight limp the guard to my left has.
With all my strength, I throw my left shoulder forward, slipping my arm out from the weaker man's grasp. Twisting around, I jam my elbow into his ribs, freeing my other arm in the process as he grunts, doubling over. As the impact pushes me over, I aim to hit his knee with the bottom of my foot. Shouting in pain as my foot collides with an existing injury, the guard collapses to the ground. Alarmed by my violent outburst, the other guard's hand snatches my elbow and a burst of pain erupts in my cheek. I stumble back and the guard that had punched me releases my arm. My vision goes blurry from the hit, so I blindly kick out in front of me as the metallic taste of blood begins to fill my mouth.
The guard yells in pain as my foot strikes his groin, and my vision clears to see him crumble to the floor. Glancing up I overhear one of the two remaining guards speaking frantically into a radio while the other stands frozen in place. His eyes are wide and panicked, yet the moment they meet mine, he charges.
I realize how tired I am as I turn to run down the hallway. The adrenaline that had prompted me to attempt an escape in the first place drains at an alarming rate. My legs are aching and my eyes fill with tears from the punch that leaves half of my face numb with pain. Turning down the next hall, I feel an arm grab my shoulder and the guard throws himself on top of me. A moment of terrifying weightlessness is followed by an explosion of pain in my head.
The stabbing sensation clues me in on the fact that my head had just slammed into the concrete floor. My vision blurs again, this time to the point where dark spots immediately appear, swimming before my eyes. The yells and radio static disappear, replaced by a high-pitched ringing sound that causes the intense pain in my head to swell into an unbearable suffering. The black spots begin to grow, slowly eating up the last of the light surrounding me. The weight holding me onto the ground pulls away right as everything else disappears.
YOU ARE READING
The Rejects
Narrativa generaleThere's order to everything. Everything has a pattern, a set of rules that keeps it functioning. Without it, organisms die, governments fail, civilization collapses. There's a reason we're the only ones left. We had order, while the rest of the worl...
