Lucas's Little sister, A Terra Nova Story. Eloa Taylor

Part 8

     It's been over two weeks since Lucas let me out of my cage, and he finally did it.
     He got our Dad. He was going to execute Wash, but my Dad revealed himself.
     Now he is a prisoner like me, but he gets to stay in a cell while I can freely walk around our home. Lucas won't let me see him either. He says it will give me too many ideas. But I think he's just afraid that all of us being together will stop him from executing our father.
    Today, I feel stronger than usual, which is good since I now have no backup other than a grieving teenage boy. Oh wait, the Shannons left. I don't have strong enough shoulders to hold the human race.

      One of my favorite memories of Terra Nova was Lucas and I going OTG on our third day and going to look for flowers. I'd been itching since we got here, my biology degree screaming at me to find everything I could. He held my hand as we climbed over rocks and listened to the calls of herbivores miles away. Eventually, we found a clearing with a stream, and we raced, danced, and splashed each other. This was like the first time we'd ever been allowed to play outside in the grass. Both of us awkward young adults playing like children. This is the Lucas I choose to remember.
        But it's certainly not the Lucas I'm fighting now. Because I'm really concerned that the only way to stop this Lucas is to kill him. But like Harrison Bergeron in that short satire we all read in 8th grade, he is an intelligent athlete, and I am a scientist with tiny lungs and a razor to MAYBE stop him with, which honestly could be dull, i haven't checked yet. I've been too afraid of losing morale.
          I can't stomach being his doll anymore. Sitting next to him while he talks into his walkie, or rants about our Father, or drinks with the other leaders. He strokes my hair or talks to me like I'm some delicate creature since the leader of the rebels was captured. I refuse to submit, though. I've hardly spoken. Enraging him even further.
         "I don't know how either of you hold your tongues and your pride against such depressing reality." He looked into her eyes. "I mean, really, you were always a dreamer, Eloa Lamb. But this is tiring."
          "I would like to get some of the stuff from my house."
           "No."
          "Then I guess we've run out of things to talk about." A deep sigh was heard as he continued eating his omlette. We were sat having breakfast. I'd barely touched mine. Without my meds, I had no appetite. "I just want some of my unread books and t-shirts. It's really not that hard of an ask."
          "Lying is unattractive in a lady, little sister."
         "Yea, whatever. Lock me up if wanting my stuffed cow back is too much to ask."
        "Would it make you feel better if you were down there with Commander Taylor? Would you feel better if you'd gotten captured while attacking me instead of leaving before any of the actions happened?"
          I didn't answer. I just matched his stare. Willing him just free me from the table.
          "If so, that's pretty messed up. That you would rather be jailed with your father than be treated with love by your brother. "
         "Let's not pretend that I'm here, by anything but force. Hell, you locked me up in the dark for how long?! Long enough that I'd curl up into your lap and do whatever you wanted. That's not love."
       "Well, if you hate me so much. Why don't I remind you what happens when you disobey me. It's time to say goodbye to Dad. Then it's back to your cage."
        It's only breakfast, and he's already planned an execution and a jail sentence.
       "Whatever," I snarled back, trying not to show my fear. "See how well you do on your own. See if you can get Dad to say anything to you. You who killed his people, and locked up his daughter and killed his son.