The Parables

Siria - Precinct Fifteen

Siria - Precinct Fifteen

My eyes snap open. My cheek rests against the cold, smooth surface of leather. My vision is distorted and my position is uncomfortable. Frowning, I glance up and realise where I am. Sitting up, I regain normal vision and relax into my seat. The leather seat is comfier than it looks, despite the frigid chill that's taken away the comfort of the car. Shivering, I lean my head against the hard glass window pane and sigh. Soon, I'll be exactly where I want to be.

Despite everything that's happened, I know I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have taken Orlanelle's place. She deserved to be the female volunteer Martyr. She was chosen, equitably. But then her name was pulled out as the Martyr and what did I do? I volunteered for her. If...when I get back, I'm going to be in so much trouble. Unless I win it. Even then, I'll still be in trouble. But not as much. Hopefully. But when I do get back to Precinct Fifteen, Orlanelle will most likely kill me. I've probably already been kicked out of training school for my sinful deed.

Closing my eyes, I sigh. If I don't win The Parables, but still survive, my life will be over. I'll be one of the few ever expelled from training school; I'll become infamous for my unlawful act and my parents will be ashamed of me. Not that they'll care. They've never cared about me in my entire life. If I died in the Labyrinth, they wouldn't care. If I came home, they wouldn't care. If I won The Parables, they still wouldn't care. They've never had time for me in their lives ever, so why care about me now? I still don't know why Mother gave birth to me. Maybe I was a mistake. An accident.

Tears burn in my eyes at the thought of that. I could only be alive because of an accident. It's probably not true, but it could be. It makes perfect sense. Shaking my head, I brush the tears out of my eyes and relax back in my seat. I need to be thinking positive thoughts if I'm going to try and win The Parables. But then again, what difference would winning it make to my life? I'd get some money but my parents would soon use that for their 'plans' or to stop them from working anymore.

Angrily, I kick the back of the seat in front of me. A fire has ignited inside of me, its flames of frustration and fury growing wilder and wilder. My hands are clenched into tight, clammy fists and beads of perspiration jewel my forehead. Glancing down at myself, I notice my legs quivering violently and a sudden sharp pain comes from my nails digging into my palm. Sighing, I loosen my shoulders, uncurl my fingers and pull my knees to my chest, hugging them tightly as the fire within me wanes.

I'm regretting volunteering now. There's no longer that passion to be a Martyr inside of me now. That's petered out along with the angry fire. All I want to do is go back home, curl up in my own bed and pretend yesterday never happened. If I hadn't have met Orlanelle, I would never have volunteered for her. If I hadn't have known what a moody cow she was, she would be sat here, not me. Resting my elbow on the narrow window ledge, I lean my head on my palm and watch the sunrise outside.

Warm, flaming colours fill the sky, transforming it into a bonfire in the air. The clouds float by slowly, changing colour from marmalade orange to coral pink as they pass over the rising sun. Sunlight floods through the window, blinding me. Squinting, I shield my eyes from the sun, looking at it from a different angle so as not to lose my eyesight.

"We're almost at the train station."

Spinning around in my seat, my eyes land upon the back of the sentry. His hands grasp the steering wheel firmly, but not too tightly as if his life depended on it.

"How long?"

"Two minutes."

"Great," I mutter, staring out of the window.

Rolling hills of lush juniper grass dominate the distance, creating a picturesque landscape unfamiliar to Precinct Fifteen. Trees of every type stand strong like soldiers alongside the path, their gnarled branches brushing against the roof of the car. The leaves are slowly developing their autumn shades, turning from shamrock green to apricot orange, dandelion yellow and cinnamon brown. Cinnamon. I smile. The aromatic smell that wafts from the bakery every morning. I always catch a whiff of it when I'm on my way to the training facilities. It makes me feel so much happier and calm, for some strange reason.