Ultramarine -- REWRITTEN

Fifteen. [h.s.] -- REWRITTEN

          I convinced myself that I had only done it to stop her from running. To stop her from trying to escape. To ease my own burden. I held down a cup around a burning flame, hoping to extinguish what was inside, but somehow it stayed lit even when there was only faint blue. It was the small part of me that despised her pain and craved her joy, keeping me from thinking clearly, rationally, without bias. This small part of me, that I didn't want to admit, had done it so I could hold her in my arms and feel her heart against my chest, the rhythm to calm my own troubled mind.

          My own troubled mind which would be meeting with Doctor Gallagher. Our meeting would be on an invisible foundation of lies, with walls built of questions that stabilized a ceiling of doubt in which I lived. The entirety was painted with guilt. He could probably see right through me; knowing that I was no longer taking the capsules and being entranced by whatever spell it had me under. Although the vast multitude of emotions had been overwhelming, the feeling of being alive and having more reactions to different situations was now more important than my sore feet or an aching back at the end of the day. I felt for Brian and didn't want to imagine these new ideas being sucked away.

          "Is there an urgent update?" I questioned after finding my parents and sister sitting in front of the receiver. The screen displayed a timer counting down.

          "Yes, all appointments during leisure time have been canceled. You have," my father read the time on the receiver, "about seven minutes until you must come watch this with us."

          I nodded to no one in particular and headed to the bedroom, where I undressed from my uniform and redressed into my leisure clothing. There hadn't been an urgent update in awhile, so what could possibly be so important at this time? It seemed like a blessing in disguise--a week without deceiving Doctor Gallagher and harboring the guilt that followed.

          I rested on the couch next to my father while my mother and sister sat on another. The timer was ticking down second by second--taking away precious time while gifting anticipation in exchange. Silence choked our throats and the reflection of numbers hid our pupils. It was hypnotising. White against black, counting down. Further. More zeros. More wonder. More impatience that encased the silence in my throat, burning and tearing at my thoughts and questions, where I could no longer pay attention to anything but the damned numbers. Numbers that I would despise the next morning, but be entertained by in the moment.

          Two, one, zero.

          The head of the Safety Department appeared on the screen. I recognized him; the man that Aria had to report to. He gave a warm smile, introducing himself to those who didn't know who he was, before instructing all citizens over the age of five to put in our emergency earplugs. My mother stood from the couch to grab them from underneath the receiver, handing us all two small, white earplugs. I stared at them in my hand, thinking of Charmaine. The cubes on the sides of her temples which had done something that mentally terrorized her--ripping her away from reality and dropping her into one that had made her scream, choke, sweat, and writhe where she hung. It had led us to the moment where our hearts had beat together, the warmth of our bodies mixing and colliding. But who was to say these would hurt me?

          I put them into my ears, cool against my skin, afraid of nothing.

          He instructed us to keep them in for the broadcast and the remainder of the night. He gave us a farewell and the screen faded. I glanced around the room where my family was mesmerized by the screen, which displayed a child. We all silently watched videos of the child aging--snippets of their lives becoming a story, a play, a movie on screen. The first time he answered a question in education hours, the first time he broke the rules, the first time he took a risk, the first time he had done anything significant--worth noting in any possible way--was shown to the citizens. As quickly as the images moved, I had forgotten every scene before it. It was innocent until I recognized who this person was. My heart began to run in my chest.