When the Wind Blows

Prologue

If you weren't perfect, you got kicked out. Left for dead.

That's the first thing I remember ever learning. Of course, they didn't kick you out as soon as you were born, that would just be cruel. They waited until the day you were fifteen to throw you out of the gates of the community and into the unknown.

Now, they told me I was lucky. I was perfect! I would stay in the community and thrive. Unfortunately for me, that didn't last long.

A few days after my thirteenth birthday, a fire started in my house. Somehow, in this perfect community, a fire had started.

I was terrified. I had been stuck in my room with no way out, and no one was coming to help me. I screamed, despite the smoke filling my lungs. No one heard.

Finally, I managed to get the door open. Freedom! I ran down the stairs and out the door, but not before I heard a scream. "Carter! Help me!"

I ignored it. I had to get out of there! It was probably just my imagination, anyways.

As soon as I had gotten outside, I filled my lungs with fresh air, gasping and sobbing. My mother came to comfort me, she was crying as well. I saw my father a few feet away, looking worried.

"Where's Justin?" He called, his voice tight, referring to my older brother.

I felt my blood run cold. He wasn't already out here? "J-Justin?" I asked, confused. Was he still in the house? Was he the one that had called for help?

Finally, the community fire truck pulled up, sirens blaring. It hadn't been used for years, and it was rusty and gross. I ran up to the truck and pounded on the windows in fear. "Please! Help! My brother is still in there!"

The man in the truck ignored me and pushed open the door, making me fall back onto the ground. I cried out in pain and surprise, standing up and taking a few steps back.

There were only five men in all, and three of them were working the hose to stop the fire while two of them ran inside, searching for anything that could be salvaged. Including my brother.

After what seemed like a century of waiting, the firemen came out. What were they holding? I couldn't see it clearly. It looked like...

"Justin!" My mother and father cried in unison. Their voices were not filled with joy though, the were filled with grief.

I ran up to the limp body that was in the firemen's arms, and gasped.

Half of my brothers face had bleeding welts and black skin that covered it, and his once light brown hair was singed and black. His fingernails were ripped out of his fingers, as if he had been trying to escape, but just couldn't get the door open.

Taking a step back, I felt bile rise up in my throat as I looked at the dead and ravaged form of my sibling. It was all my fault! If only I had looked back!

And that's when I became an imperfect. I don't know if it just happened or what, but I grew insane. To the point that it was agreed that I would be kicked out of the community as soon as I turned fifteen.

Now, I wasn't a psychopath or anything, but I was certainly crazy. At least that's what my mother told me. I would wake up screaming every night, in a pool of my own sweat. Or I would randomly get glassy eyed and start screaming; usually in the middle of a meal. Sometimes, I would even start choking, as if smoke were still in my lungs.

So now its time. Two years later, and I've just turned fifteen. Whoopee.

Now I was just sitting by the window and waiting. Waiting for the men in big black uniforms who would come to tear me away from everything I know and love.