Tattooed {Completed}

12: Resistance

Thank you guys so much for reading! No matter how many times I say it I feel like I'm not expressing it enough. It really means a lot!

We were handcuffed and shoved into a helicopter, where they slowly brought us to our doom. I didn't realize how far away we were from the city until I slowly saw the day turn to night as we were closer and closer to death. I knew we were going to die. Anyone with the same Tattoo would have to die. It never happened before, but I assumed that's what would happen.

As for me, I wasn't sure. I stopped thinking about what was happening though, and took in the scene of the city night. It was beautiful, despite me having the knowledge of its dangers. The lights reflected off each building, created a warm glow that made you want to stroll around with family. I thought about my family. My mom, my dad, and Adelaide. The dead, the traitor, and the innocent.

After a long ride, we arrived at the government headquarters and are escorted inside. Brought to a jail cell, I was starting to feel the affects of being a criminal. Me, Justin, and Kenna had cells right next to each other, but there was no way for us to even talk. The walls had to be at least 2 feet thick, and they stripped us of our phones, food, and of course, weapons.

I couldn't think, couldn't even imagine, what was going to happen next. What was going to become of us. I decided to sleep while I had the chance.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss Blackwood, but I'm afraid you will have to wake." The horrible sound of Mr. Graff woke me up, and I didn't have to open my eyes to know that it was him. I could sense his foul presence even in my sleep.
I get up from the cold ground and walk out of the cell. Two guards grab my arms hard and we walked to what looked like an interrogation room. I sit down at the metal table and a lie detector is strapped around my chest and arm. Wires are everywhere, hooked up to the machine that will tell my fate.

A police investigator walks into the room, and I am surprised that it is not Mr. Graff. I look through the glass wall and see him staring at me. A little weight was lifted off my shoulders as I realized he wasn't going to be the one to ask me questions.

The investigator sits down with a pen and notepad and says, "Miss Blackwood, you are about to take a polygraph test about your experiences with the Rebels. The first question is: Did you know your Artist personally?"

"No."

"Were you close to your mother?"

"What does my-" I started.

"Only yes or no answers, Miss Blackwood. Were you close to your mother?"

"Yes."

"Did she teach you about Resistance?"

"Yes." Resistance was when you forced yourself not to carry out the fate your Tattoo assigned you to. Many people got very sick and died because they Resisted.

"Do you know that your mother was a Rebel, and that she Resisted?"

"No." I couldn't even believe what was happening. My mother? A Rebel?

"Do you know that she died because of Resistance?"

"No."

"Very well. This concludes the first part of the polygraph test. Tomorrow will be the second part. Good day, Miss Blackwood."