Dragged Apart

Chapter Two

I throw myself down the stairs, my feet sounding like an attacking army. From the corner of my eye, I can see Anika and Mira join me, leaving their boyfriends' rooms.

"What's going on?" Anika asked.

I don't answer; I can't speak. The room spins around me, and I hazily register Anika grabbing my arm, Mira stepping forward, looking worried, just as a deafening silence filled my ears and the whole room went black...

I suddenly awake to see the Patroller looking down at me. "Ah, there you are," he says, noticing me, "You had me worried for a minute there."

"What... where am I?" I say groggily, my throat dry as sandpaper.

"You're in the backroom," the Patroller replies.

"I'm still in the Detention Centre..." I say rather than ask, realisation filling my bones with a sense of weary dread. I stood up. The Re:trievers would be here any minute—I had to get out of here!

I realise I had spoken aloud, shouting unnecessarily, when the door opens and Mira comes rushing in. "You should have told me she was awake!" she says to the Patroller, before turning to face me,

"It's OK. The Re:trievers have already left." She tells me, as if having read my mind.

I nodded, feeling myself relax into the chair. I stand up again abruptly as another thought hits me: "So the Illicits?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"They're gone." Says the Patroller.

"All of them?" I ask, still hopeful. The Patroller nods his head slowly, apologetically. I feel an unjustified need to yell at him, even though it wasn't his fault.

I sense the devastatingly feeling of tears before they well up in my eyes. Mira's eyes fill with compassion as she pulls me into a hug, whilst the Patroller looked away. "It's OK," Mira mumbled reassuringly into my hair, "Don't cry."

"I'm not crying," I say, pushing her away, stupidly determined to remain stoic until the very end. I angrily wipe at my face, removing any evidence of my sorrow.

"Crying doesn't make you weak," Mira said softly, "Crying makes you stronger," she pulled me into a hug again, and this time I allowed myself to melt in her soft, warm embrace. She gently strokes my hair, which makes me fully break down into tears as I remember the last time Jack held me like this. How it will probably be the last time he'll ever hold me like that...

"I didn't even get to say goodbye," I manage to choke out, my voice breaking on the last word, "I'll never see him again," I add, a whine entering my voice. Mira suddenly stiffens. I release myself from her embrace, thinking I'd done something wrong. I wipe my eyes again. I feel like a whole new person; I never cried, yet I'd just cried twice in the last hour.

"What if I told you this wasn't goodbye?" Mira asks me.

"I'd tell you you're were crazy," I answer, "And probably punch you for putting my hopes up."

"But what if Mira wasn't putting your hopes up?" The Patroller says. I nearly jump; I'd just about forgotten he was in the room.

"What... what's going on?" I say, suddenly wary that I really didn't know anything about the people I was talking to.

"We would like to recruit you to the Mission," Mira says,

"The mission?" I ask jokingly, "Sounds like some sort of rebellion."

Mira doesn't even blink. "Mission with a capital 'M'," she says, drawing one in the air with her index finger,

"You are crazy?" I ask, catching on fast, "Do you want to be killed?"

"I've been part of the Mission for years," Mira says, shrugging her shoulders, "I'm alive,"

"But.. but," I can't comprehend what's happening. "Why would you want me? I'm just a student who lives with her parents—"

"With an Illicit for a boyfriend," Mira adds.

I feel a blush rise up my cheeks. I can't say anything to that.

"And that's exactly why we want you," the Patroller adds. "To everyone other than us, you're normal. A rule-follower. They won't expect it of you,"

"I am NOT joining some kind of wanna-be rebel group." I say, like the good little rule-follower I am, "I'd like to stay alive, thank you very much,"

"But what if you could see Jack again?" the Patroller asks.

I swallowed, and shook my head, refusing to think about it. It was impossible. Jack was gone. 

"Zara, darling," Mira said sadly, "You have such potential. So smart, beautiful and creative. Your poetry—"

"How do you know about my poetry?" I demanded, "How do you know my name?"

"We know everything," the Patroller said, spreading his arms wide, "Nothing is unknown to the Mission."

"And yet you didn't know that I would refuse," I said, firmly walking to the door. Mira got up to block my way but the Patroller shook his head and she moved out of the way.

I ran out of the Detention Centre, wanting to put as much distance between myself and these rebels—for that was what they were, no matter what they called themselves—as possible.

As I make my way to my car, the poet in me laughs as what was, mere seconds ago, a clear blue sky, darkens. Clouds gather in haughty cliques, pouring down God's wrath. It is as if the entire world is crying, mourning with me. My scarf, blown half undone by the furious wind, sticks to my face, hiding my tears. It only takes me a few minutes to get into my car, but even then I am thoroughly soaked.

I collapse into the driver's seat, slam the door shut and lay my head against the headrest. I think for a minute, calmly enough, and then my anger gets the better of me and I punch the steering wheel. How was this possibly fair? Jack was the best man I knew and yet... Why? Why was he taken away from me? Why was I being punished? What had I possibly done to ever aggravate anybody?

And JACK! That idiot! Obviously, somebody had noticed him purchasing an engagement ring: Had he lost his mind completely?

Not that it was solely his fault. I hated the Council, hated the Chief Minister, hated the stupid rules, hated myself for not seeing this coming, for ever believing that the two of us could be happy together...

I stopped. This anger, this nagging, this RAGE, wasn't healthy. It wouldn't help anybody, wouldn't do anything, other than give me a raging headache. 

I needed to get some sleep.

I needed to go home.