How We Fought

Chapter 1

I screamed, I wailed, and I kicked. My powerful legs once pushed a useless fellow off a cliff, now powerless against the force of an idiotic general. He had grabbed me off the van pulling my scrawny hands and legs across the floor and down the concrete stairs. Viktor followed, but he was far more obedient. My hair had glided across the floor enough times to clean my cottage near the riverbank.

All the blood had gotten to my brain, my face turned tomato, and the distance to the dungeons lessened. The vigorous general had managed to beat me, and astonishingly brought me to the underground without a fair fight, and many bruises.

"You villager, get up and get in the cell!" He shouted, releasing me from his tight grasp, he pointed at a room with bars lining the front, and several bones. I walked to the cell, B-26t, reluctantly, but if they knew me and my disposition, they would have been more prudent.

I turned around just before stepping foot into the dark room and kicked the officer hard. It was in the shins, a place where I would break the largest number of bones. He screeched; his rough hands placed around the infected area screaming in agony. He wanted to do something, but too bad, his leg would need a rest for a few months.

Viktor nudged me and pushed me into cell, he too followed. I scowled at him; his obnoxious attitude was annoying as the general. He had no sense of resistance. We were on a winning streak; it had been a week without any abrupt deaths of people in my village.

The Grand Councilor had been slaughtering anyone who stood in their absurd ways to reach domination. His stupid ways to become number one, a position where he couldn't back down. I wanted to break our country away from these lies, everyone believes that he does it for the benefit of the people, what poppycock. I do not, I never did, so I luckily got recruited by a resistance group, the largest in the land.

I turned to Viktor watching him sit so still, his golden-brown hair still in a mess, his dark blue eyes drowned in fear, and his hands fiddling with nothing but air. He was a weird chap, a coward, but he was brave enough to join the resistance.

"Stop it, how can you be so calm in times like this? We must break out; we must go back and help!" I declared to Viktor; he was just sitting in the dim corner biting his revolting nails.

"There is nothing to go back to, it's over, our battle is over. He won! He won, Lyra, we lost! There is no hope." Viktor replied, his voice was quiet and wavering. I too couldn't argue, Viktor a clueless boy, finally spoke some sense that I needed to believe. I couldn't. Not after everything I've done. There was nothing to go back to, mama and papa dead, John murdered, Lilliana shot, why was I still sanguine about life, about living?