Breathe.

"Live free, or die trying...for death is not the worst of evils..."

 Breathe. 

Chapter 1

My name is Olivia Noriega and I am twenty years old. When I was younger, I loved to dance.

 I shouldn't say that, should I? I am no longer twenty. I am dead in my mortal soul, but not in my spiritual self. At times I recall horrors of my life, how I used to have to wear a mental handicap. A large, metal transmitter was strapped tightly to my head. Blood curdling sounds would strike the nerves of my brain every minute. The thoughts that had entered my mind immediatley scrambled.

I was also forced to wear weights on my arms and shoulders. They figured I was too strong. All the other little girls had one or no weights. I wore two on each arm and one slung around my neck. 

"Put them on," a large man said to me as he handed me the weights. I strapped them on and tried to adjust to the new feeling of strain. "Is this how the other girl's feel with out them?" I thought to myself. ( I was only ten years old.) I looked up to the man, who seemed satisfied of my struggle. Neither a transmitter, nor weights were found on him. 

"Sir, why don't you have any handicaps on?" I asked him, innocently. His face turned cold and I was pushed me into another line.

I waited and waited until I was the third person in line. I looked ahead of me to see what else they could possibly handicap us with. "Next." I mean looking woman said. I looked over the shoulder in front of me. I saw large, black boxes filled with... CRACK!  A large sound emitted from my mental transmitter. It sounded as if someone had broken a human bone completely in half. I held my head in pain as I saw others flinch at the noise. I wondered why the boy in front of me hadn't even moved. He didn't have a transmitter on. The lucky bugger. "Next." I walked up to the table as the lady stared intently at my face. She pulled out a plain gray mask and handed it to me. "Wear this at all times. If you are seen without it on, you will be contained. Understood?" She said. I shook my head and she gestured for the next person to go. I walked back with my new handicaps. 

I waited patiently by the big tree for my mother, just like she told me too. BOOM! That one sounded like an airplane crash.  I saw my mother walking towards me. "Mama!" I called to her.  She smiled and ran over to me. When she reached me, a frown replaced her beautiful smile. I looked up at her. "Wh...what's wrong, mama?" I said, confused. 

"Nothing, baby. But, your beautiful face...it's covered. Look how many weights you have!" She cried out. Tears started forming in her eyes. I hated seeing my mother so sad. "It's okay, mama. We are all equal now right?" I asked her. She nodded her head and kissed my forehead. "Yes, Olivia, we are...I'm afraid that's the problem." She whispered to me. 

I will never forget those words said to me by the mother. Little did I know at age ten, that those words meant so much more than what I thought. 

As the years went by, I got used to wearing my handicaps. Though, I couldn't tell you how many times I would go into my room, lock the door, and take them all off. I would turn on the radio, close my eyes, and just listen. Until a horrifying sound was sent to my transmitter. At times, I would dance around my room and try to think of the good things that my handicaps brought. 

My mask: 

People would often comment of my beauty, but I never saw it. I saw a plain face, full of freckles. The mask made me feel better. No one would judge me by my looks. No harm, no foul, right? Secondly, I wouldn't have to care about "looking good" for anybody. 

My weights:

I tried not to think so much of handicaps, but more like resistance training for dance. I thought it was ironic, how at the same time the government was trying to make us weak, when in fact they were only making the strong stronger. 

The only thing I couldn't find the bright side in was the transmitter. Oh man, did I hate that thing. One minute it would be nails on a chalk board, the second, a nuclear bomb being dropped. I really resented that Diana Moon Glampers, the Handicapper General. She was in charge of the sounds the intelligent heard and the pain the strong had to endure. 

                                                                                         *****

In dance class, I was repeatedly chastised for "dancing too well". I would be punished immediately for doing a step beautifully or even right. This, is the time I started getting really fed up with theses damn handicaps. The majority of the class didn't have a transmitter, so I didn't see how they had an excuse to mess up. 

One day, in dance class, all of my thoughts scattered even faster then they usually did. No, not because of the transmitter, but because I noticed someone watching our class. I looked over to the door and their stood a boy, about a year older than me. He had at least ten weights on him. I studied his face, which was absolutely mesmerizing. I wondered why he didn't have a mask. He caught me looking at him and he smiled back at me. I was wearing a mask, but I don't think it hid the fact that I was blushing. My transmitter went off and I held my head in pain. He did the same. When the ringing in my ears was gone, I looked back up. He was still looking at me. 

He made the motion of taking off a mask, I guess, wanting me to take off mine. My dance teacher ran over to him and yelled at him. The weird thing was, he was smiling the whole time...at me. He put his mask back on and walked away. 

Once again, I was punished for being too distracting. 

When I got home, I found a packaged addressed to me. I opened it and read the note. 

"To: Olivia Jeanne Noriega. You are issued to wear this mask at all times. Replace your old one with this one. If you are seen without it, you will be contained. 

Sincerely,

Diana Moon Glampers, Handicapper General.

I sighed and stared straight at the television. There she was, the handicapper general, giving a speech. Oh, how I loathed her.