The Darker Side of Me

Shout it to the World

Tell them, she urges in my mind. Tell them to stop. Tell them what we can do now.

"Make sure I don't lose it?" I whispered tremulously.

Always.

"This ends now," I say, my voice trembling more than I would hope. The scene is horrific. There are bodies everywhere. Even now I can feel the anger rearing inside of me, the fierce joy that threatens to send me running down the stairs in a storm of bloody passion.

Breathe, she says.

I clear my throat and try again. Fire fills me, but it's not consuming me. It is warming my heart.

"This. Ends. NOW!" I shout. The artificial intelligence connects to the base's speakers, turning my cry into a powerful boom.

Everyone freezes. A single soldier goes to continue the attack, but Teague raises a commanding hand and he skids to a stop.

"We're done with the fighting. Done killing each other. I can do more than you would ever dream now. If you do not call a ceasefire, I will call one for you!"

I pause, apparently for dramatic effect, but in reality taking the moment to whisper "Are you sure?" under my breath. I can hear her thoughts, but she cannot hear mine.

It will shock them enough to give me the time I need. And we've practically done it anyway.

"We refuse to be oppressed by the government," I continue. "As of today, the rebellion is its own nation... and the current one's sworn enemy. We will accept all who are willing to leave the government- and you will allow them to leave. Should you fail to do so, we will do it ourselves! I suggest you comply. Surrender and you will come to no harm."

Strangled cheers rise up from the remaining rebels. My heart sinks at the low number. Their cheer dies off as Commander Teague mounts the steps. When he speaks, his voice is not amplified by the speakers, but it echoes across the battlefield all the same.

"You are in no position to demand surrender," he states, "though I admire your boldness in suggesting as much. Observe. You are outnumbered three to one, my men have superior weapons, and we are backed by the most powerful people in the world." He laughs slightly. "Do they know who you are? What you have become? Surely by now they have watched you killing more of your own than twenty soldiers combined. Look at her sword. It is red with her guilt."

Suspicious murmurs rise up from the rebels. The sword falls from my hand and to the ground with a clatter.

"She did!" one man yells, staggering forward. He's bleeding from wounds in his shoulder and side. "I watched her strike down Michael with my own eyes."

Murmurs become gasps. Shaking, I try to pick up my triteza, intending to run it through my own body. My hand screeches to a stop as the artificial intelligence uses the chip to shut down nervous signals to my arm. I whimper in fear.

I'm sorry, Jenna. I have to stop you.

"Let me do it" I breathe. "They're right. I'm their enemy- I killed Michael, I killed the children, I killed so many, I enjoyed it!" I sob. "Let me die!"

None of that was you, Jenna. They made you do that.

"But I listened to him," I whimper. "I was too- afraid." I spit the final word.

You are not at fault. Do not let him make you think that you were.

I drag my attention back to the surface, registering dully that Teague still makes a victory speech. "Yes, while in our custody, your precious fighter realized that she was on the wrong side. She learned that the Union is the only way to achieve peace. We can end this now. You no longer have to fight."

"No."

I speak with fire in my soul.

The commander looks shocked for a second before recovering. "Of course you would wish the fighting to continue," he states cleverly.

"I mean I didn't decide anything! Your people tortured me. Burned me, cut me, raped me, beat me within an inch of my life. Broke me down from the inside out. Turned me into a monster. All so you could use me against my people!"

"Now you consider them your people? After slaughtering so many?"

"They're my people," I insist, wondering if I'm only lying to myself.

The commander sighs, apparently troubled. "Oh, Project Two-oh-Eight. You have chosen the wrong side. What chance do your people stand against mine? Especially," he continues, "when the fire in your spirit belongs to me." With the last, intense word, he twists his hand.

I do not fall to the ground.

His terrified expression is almost comical, though he does himself a service by not attempting the motion again. He is too stunned even to call a charge. The soldiers begin to whisper fearfully. The other killers look as if they are about to spring upon their own captains.

And at long, long last, I look into his eyes and see nothing but fear.

I begin to fall to the darkness within me, overjoyed that I have finally broken him. I can finally carry out all the torture he bestowed upon me. My hand reaches for the triteza on the ground as a triumphant grin steals across my face.

No, says the voice from the room. Remember. A picture flashes behind my eyes, transmitted by the AI, of my friends and I, twelve-year-old faces beaming, proudly displaying the badges clearing us for proper training. I return to myself.

"We stand a chance," I say evenly, "because I have this." I raise my hand and mirror the long-hated gesture.

As one, the soldiers fall to the ground, clutching their ears and shouting as the artificial intelligence hacks the circuitry, turning it against them. I laugh to see my foes so justly countered, taking the most joy in the commander's agony. I smirk as he writhes at my feet.

Stop that! the voice says urgently. This is not who you are.

"SHUT UP!!!" I roar. The rebels look at me, surprise fading into recognition into fear.

I will not stop, comes the firm reply. Breathe in. Out. Remember. More images dance in my mind. As they fall away I remember.

"Oh no," I gasp, truly registering the soldiers' agony. I reverse the motion.

The whole ordeal lasted no more than a minute or two. Tears fill my eyes as I look over the chaos I have caused. There are still dead strewn about the field, but at least it doesn't have to continue. Someone has brought coils of rope, and what remains of the rebellion is skillfully binding the soldiers that still curl panting on the ground. A low groan draws my attention to the man lying at my feet.

"Do you see now?" I say, my voice tremulous. "Do you see what they did to me? What you did?"

Teague drags himself laboriously to his hands and knees, breath heaving. He turns his gaze to me, and I see the ice there melting in an ocean, spilling over his lids.

"I think I always saw," he whispers. "But... now I know."

"Good," I say, turning and walking through the open metal doors, leaving him to be bound and taken away.