The Mindless Man's Paradise

Chapter forty-seven

The next day, we were lead to a place where we could eat dinner. We sat in a room full of other HQ officials, all of which were armed and dangerous.

  After a whole day without any form of punishment, I was getting uneasy.

  Knives dangled from sheaths and guns sparkled in their holsters. Their shiny HQ vests glinted against the fluorescent lights of the lunchroom.

  I sighed, consuming the bland mush that we were given. But hey, at least we were eating at all, right?

  We had been told that our execution date would be pushed back a week, which gave us some time to plan our suicide attempt. Cyrus and I knew when it would happen, but not precisely how.

  Due to the fact that we were under surveillance by human and camera eyes at all hours of the day, we had no way to get our hands on a weapon.

  As if reading my mind, Cyrus sighed. He glanced at all the officers around us who had weapons galore. And almost as if we were beaten, we gloomily made our way back to our white-walled room. (We were escorted of course.)

  The straight jacket hadn’t moved from the camera lens.

  The primary reason being because it was covered in human feces, and the second reason being that they knew that it didn’t matter what we did in here; they had us under lock and key. And there was no way out.

  Cyrus and I had managed to cut a chunk out of the plush flooring, only to find metal a foot down. So now, there was a small corner where a flap was loose, but nobody had noticed, and even if they did, it didn’t matter.

  I flopped onto the floor, which was indeed as comfy as a bed, and I huffed.

  “I have no idea how we’re going to manage this.” I grumbled.

 Cyrus and I yanked the audio cables, so that we couldn’t be heard either.

  “I do.” He smirked.

  I looked up at him wonderingly.

  He began to tug at the waistband of his pants, causing that familiar warm feeling to spurt in my stomach once more. But it wasn’t long lived, because seconds later, Cyrus pulled two knives from his pants.

  “Swiped ‘em from an official in the cafeteria.” he said proudly.

  I darted from my place on the floor and enveloped him in a huge hug, kissing him forcefully on the cheek.

  “You’re amazing!”

  I took one knife from his hand. “We can bring them up onto the platform and do it in front of everyone! Oh, Cyrus this is perfect! This’ll get HQ if anything will.” I grinned. I spoke as if I was thanking my boyfriend for buying me a cute present or something, but in our case, it was the key to our suicide.

  It seems morbid, I know. But understand this, we would rather be the ones to take our life than have HQ be the one to decide our fate. We wanted to show them that they were not the boss, as much as they beg to differ. And on top of all that, we could show Landies what true love is.

  Two kids, madly in love, killing themselves for it. The ultimate Romeo and Juliet.

  But of course, they wouldn’t know what Romeo and Juliet even was.

  I ran my fingers over the smooth, cold, metal of the knife. It was about six inches long, and was jagged and wicked looking.

  I became a little nauseous thinking about jamming such a thing into my heart, and wistfully set the blade down, not wanting to think about such pain quite yet.

  I was excited for the rebellion part, but not the death part.

  Never before had I ever thought about any sort of after life, or ever believed in God, but in that moment, sitting there, staring at the blade, I so desperately wanted to believe that there was a God; that there was an after life.

 Because if there was, I had already endured Hell, and it was about time that I experienced some Heaven.

  I leaned into Cyrus’s arms, the closest thing I had to anything heavenly in those days, and I picked up the knife, fingering it once more.

  I gently prodded the tip at my thumb, drawing a little blood, causing Cyrus to chastise me.

  But I still wasn’t thinking about the knife, I was thinking about death.

  I hoped with my heart and soul that I would  be walking on streets of gold in the sky, minutes after I died, but there was a deeper, more profound part of me that knew my soul would end up in a black pit of nothingness for all eternity, because that part told me that no, God was not real.

  Despite all of that, I found myself praying to him, this God character. It was comforting to know that maybe someone could help me, no matter how far-fetched it seemed.

  In The Land, God was a myth, essentially. There were a few nuts that believed in him, but I was beginning to think maybe they weren’t all that nutty after all. They were just comforting themselves, in the very same way that I was doing at that moment.

  Dear God,

  I’m not sure how to pray. I don’t even know if you’re listening, but to be completely honest, I don’t want to die. I still have work to do here, sir. If you’re really up there, if you can hear me, let Cyrus and I live. Not because we are vain, but because we want to help others. I need to fix this society, sir. I think you could agree. It’s turning your people against each other, even families aren’t loyal anymore. I still have so much to do, but if I must die, please take me into Heaven along with Cyrus. We’ve been through so much together, and I don’t want to lose him. Not now, and not ever. Not for all eternity.

  Thanks for listening, I guess.

  Um, Bye I think.

  The prayer left me feeling satisfied, and I put the knife down, this time for good.