Grounded | The Trapped Trilogy

Six

Six

LEASE

I wake up to the sound of beeping. My body stings, and it takes me a moment to understand why, to remember why.

The light hurts my eyes. I blink a few times as they adjust to the sudden change of light.

I had dreamed I was flying. I dreamed that I had wings like my Momma always told me about when I was little. She always talked about the stories her Momma told her when she wasn't screaming or yelling at me or my father.

My father.

Chills run down my spine at the memory of him.

He was handsome and tall. I never understood why he was so unhappy with us. I know he always complained about the matchings, and that he never wanted to be a part of it. He always yelled about being forced to do it, which, of course we were. The Government controls every aspect of our lives from the day we were born down to the day we die. Maybe that's why he was so angry all of the time...

I was five when I started memorizing the way he used the knife. It was deliberate and quick, and he cut me without killing me or my mom... If the Government ever saw what he did, they sure didn't say anything. Especially after I...

I was eight. He took out his knife and advanced towards me... one quick motion into his stomach and he was... he was gone. I didn't know what to do. I didn't cry. All I could do is run away from him and from that house and hide in the trees. I was still mad at him. I was so mad. And the way my mom looked at me... The way she looked at me after I did it. She wanted it to happen to, I could see it in her eyes when he did those horrible things. I remember that I just kept running, anger growing inside of me, anger that shouldn't be possible inside of an eight-year-old.

That's when Doug found me. I never asked myself what he was doing in the woods, but then again, I never cared. I was a wreck, and the blend of guilt and anger was tearing me up inside. He knelt down beside me and asked me what was wrong. I told him everything and completely spilled my guts. I still felt angry, even though talking about your feelings was always supposed to help get rid of them.

"Come with me," He said, and started walking.

I followed behind, a sense of trust growing inside of me. Doug seems to do that to people.

We walked into the Government Building. He wore a white coat that flew behind him like a cape when he walked. He walked with such poise and I could feel there was something about him that registered as power.

I wanted that feeling too. Not this guilt-struck little girl nonsense. Power.

My father deserved to die, and I was the one who carried it out. I shouldn't feel guilty about it.

On the other hand, I should have died. I should have died in that knife fight with Ken, and I know it. Everything I've done, everything I've seen... It should have all been ended for me.

But it wasn't. Ken let me live. He didn't remember me at first, of course, but he still let me live. I know he realized who I was after Eenie slipped the memory serum into his veins, and he still let me live. Even after I told him what happened... Maybe he took pity on me.

The last time that happened, the last time someone felt that way towards me, I ended up turning my back on them. Doug only took me in because he pitied me, and then didn't trust me because I had told him everything without a moment's hesitation that night in the trees. So I gave him a reason not to trust me by turning to the Government. I never told him I was working for them. If he had known, I would never have been assigned to undercover work inside the Dome. I would have been shot, probably.

Yes, I was the rogue.

I was the one bad apple that spoiled the bunch. Many people died, but I didn't care. They all hated me anyway because of what Doug always assigned for me to carry out.

It became fun to me. I was fascinated and infatuated. Soon I did the same for Murkas inside of the Domes when people needed to be made examples of. Even though no one would see them. Maybe it was a warning for me...Who knows?

All that matters now is that I'm alive. I'm alive and healing. Physically.

I break down, sobs rattling my body. Ten years and I haven't grieved once. Ten years worth of grief and guilt and pain behind a mask that became so thick I couldn't even see through. All of those feelings rotted and festered inside of me, and I let it show through every action and every syllable I pronounced.

Why does it take almost dying to realize what you've been doing wrong in your life? What if I hadn't killed my father...? Would he have reflected over things and regretted what he did? Or would he see it all too late?

I stop crying and sit up in the bed.

My brain goes blank.

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