The Rebel (#Wattys2016)

52. Long Live

Prince Skander sat on the living room's dark gray couch, his blue eyes focused on the television in front of him. A blonde news broadcaster was narrating the day's most important events, a raid here and there, a new law the rebels had come up with, a summit in Eurasia. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that stood up to Skander. Nowadays, nothing stood up to him. He felt nothing, not anger, not sadness, not happiness, only numbness. A profound and everlasting numbness. Skander sighed and ran a hand through his hair. A door behind him opened and somebody came in. The person walked to the sofas and stood up besides the television.

June's gray eyes stared at Skander, dressed in a military uniform and with her blonde hair tied in a ponytail, her right hand holding a cup of water. She opened her mouth and closed it, unsure of what to say, and then she shook her head and pointed at the sofa besides Skander's.

"Is that seat occupied?" She asked.

Skander turned to look at the sofa. He shook his head and June sat on it, tucking her feet beneath her and hugging her legs. She rested her face on her knees and stared at the television, sipping her water every few seconds. She didn't look at Skander as she spoke.

"You've been awfully quiet. Are you okay?" Skander glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, shrugged. June was quiet for a second and then shook her head. "Stupid question, I know. Dozens of people must have asked you that by now. I bet you say you're fine." Skander was quiet. She shrugged, her blonde locks shining in the white lights. "So do I. But I guess both of us can lie, right?"

Skander turned to her. "I guess." He turned back to the television. "My wounds are healing. They'll leave scars, but the doctors say that they didn't cut deep enough to cause permanent damage. It is a wonder, they say, how so many beatings didn't damage my organs." Of course, he knew June had asked if he was okay in another way, but saying out loud the truth would be acknowledging it, and... Skander was afraid that if he acknowledged the black hole in his chest, it would somehow grow. He shrugged, too conscious of June's eyes on him. "I'll be fine. Someday."

June nodded and turned back to the TV. The blonde reporter finished her daily recap, but then the edges of the screen went red and she frowned. She pressed a finger to her right ear.

"I am being told we're awaiting a National Broadcast, please stand by and wait for it to begin." She frowned. "We don't know what the broadcast is about, as we weren't told beforehand, but—"

The screen went black, and the People's Flag came on, along with the People's anthem. Skander tensed and looked down at his hands. He blocked out the music, tried to focus on his scarred hands. He closed his eyes and the music stopped. He recognized Golmes' voice, and tried to ignore his words. He had almost done it until a loud crack sounded to his left, and he turned to where June had dropped her glass cup. She stared at the television, pale as the moon and her gray eyes wide open. Skander frowned and turned to the television.

The world fell to its knees.

Everything stopped, nothing moved. June was quiet, and so was Golmes, and even the entire Illea stared, speechless, at the broadcast. Skander stood up, but his knees buckled and he fell to the couch again. He shook his head, his mouth already running wild, denying what his eyes were seeing, but there was no denying it. In his mind, he heard her voice as she wrote I'm alright. I'll soon be dead, but I'll be free. But his eyes were watching the television and the supermassive black hole grew even more and he just stared.

Skander stared as Zed grabbed Adeen's hair and pulled it upwards, forcing Adeen to stare at the cameras. Forcing Illea to see their heroine, their rebel, as she stared back. Forcing Skander to see the blood running out of her wounds, her tears, the bruises on her eyes and her swollen lips. Tears puddled in her eyes, but she didn't cry.