The Fourteenth

Chapter 2: Hemsworth?

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Now on with the story!

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Four past Thirteen.

Where was Mother? I was reading a book meant for a nineteen-year-old. She might have gotten mad that I was three reading levels higher than Brea, and one level higher than Coen. I started reading two years before I was supposed to. It was strict law the Union created about forty-six years ago. All children were supposed to start reading once they turned seven, and start writing when they turned nine. I, on the other hand, started reading my Mother's old cookbook when I was five and started writing when I was six. Even though I hadn't become a maid yet, when I was younger, nobody really cared about me. I was kind of a lone child. Of course, I played with the older kids in the yard when we were living in the First sector, but I spent most of my time alone.

One of the child maids used to always sneak into my room and play with me as we learned to read and write, but she got caught when we were nine, and she was whipped and turned into the Union. Law #78, if a maid is caught playing or has any contact socially with the patient, they shall be whipped and turned into the Union regardless of age, size, or height. Since she was female, she was whipped on her hands. When someone is turned into the Union, well, nobody really knows what happens to them. For a while, I suspected that they were sold to another family, but my theories changed when I met one of our old maids that were turned in a few years before. I was eleven, and while walking home from school I had met him on the side of the road. He ended up homeless and had nothing. I felt horrible. He had said that this happens to most maids that were turned in. I gave him one of the loafs of bread that I had gotten for dinner that night, then gotten whipped as a punishment. I didn't really care. He had absolutely nothing. It was the least I could do.

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I quietly climbed downstairs. My room was in the attic, so the ladder to get up there was in the fourth floor's main hall. I walked past Brea's office, in which she was wearing headphones and practicing her presentation or something. I only knew that cause she was mumbling random words, but that was quite strange. All exams and projects for her school finished a week ago. I walked through the dining room, and past Father's office. I could hear him transmitting the daily message of what happened throughout the day to the Union.

My Father was a wealthy, rich, greedy man. Anything he could do or make his kids do to earn money, he would do it. He wasn't the most loved man in the family, but he sure did get and do what he wanted. Because he was empowered by the union to be the keeper of the population, he could do whatever he wanted. He could break laws for all the Union cares. All they want is a peaceful, safe community, without any riots. Riots happened quite often in Forty-Seven. Either people were mad about health care or public whippings or shortened food supply. All the normal kind of shit the Union doesn't care about. Eventually, the sector guards end the riots and at least ten people get turned into the Union.

"Megan Cecilia Amber Elizabeth Collins! I must talk to you, child!" That was strange. It was Mother, but she didn't sound mad. Actually, she sounded quite happy and very formal. I knew it. We had guests. I rushed down the hall towards her office, but when I was turning around the corner, Legend splashed water on my face.

"HAHA SUCKER! Good luck on your interview now!" He quickly ran back into his apartment. I was sick of this family. I hated everyone, well, except for Jeremiah. I wiped the water off of my face, but it was still quite clear that I got wet somehow.