Foolish Heart //Danger Days//

1. BL/ind is Full of Shit

 " My past has tasted bitter
For years now
So I wield an iron fist
Grace is just weakness
Or so I've been told
I've been cold, I've been merciless
But the blood on my hands scares me to death
Maybe I'm waking up today."

::I'll Be Good- Jaymes Young::

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               "Mom, my head hurts." Dylan whined, lying face-down on the couch.

"I know sweetie, that's what happens when you scream for ten minutes straight." My mom retorted, reading an old book.

We weren't allowed the kinds of books we had in our apartment. When inspection came around, we would hide them in a secret compartment under the floorboards.

That's how we lived in Battery City. The city I called home was a bleak empire of black and white control. I sometimes questioned the functions of the city, and I had my days when I wished that I could live somewhere with more of a spark.

Don't get me wrong, my family loved it here. My mom and dad had a substantial amount of money, and Dylan and I were safe here, but we loved books.

That was our one exception to the rules.

Once a month, patrols of Scarecrows would inspect every house in this area, looking for anything suspicious that could mess with their control system; Prohibited art, movies, books and propaganda.

But it was okay, because all that mattered was that we were safe.

Earlier that morning, Dylan threw a fit when one of his toy cars was ruined after my dad stepped on it. Now, he moped on the couch, left with no source of entertainment except for his screams.

"Hey, be happy you aren't a kid out in one of the Zones. They don't have any toy cars." My father ruffled Dylan's messy brown hair.

"No, but I betcha they have real cars. Fast ones, painted red and blue and-" Dylan rambled on. My mother shushed him.

"The Zones are not a fun place. Bad people live out there."

"They aren't bad people, mom! They're super heroes!" Dylan hopped up, standing up on the couch.

"They save people from monthly inspections and curfews!"

"Dylan, those 'Killjoys' are not heroes, they're criminals." I grabbed his arm to get him to sit back down. Dylan pulled his legs up to his chin and pouted.

"Besides, what would you know about super heroes? Those old comics were made from way before any of us were born. They aren't real." I told my brother.

"Screw you, Freia."

My mother shushed him again.

That's when there was a knock at the door.

People don't just knock.

People don't visit here.

"Freia, hide the books." My dad instructed me with caution. I quickly grabbed the pile of books that rested on the coffee table, and ran to my bedroom where the compartment was. I heard my dad walk towards the door. I pulled up my white carpet to reveal the hatch. It let out a tiny creek as I threw it open and stuffed all of the books inside.

Moby-Dick, Sherlock Holmes and Harry Potter made a home in my floor.

I heard my dad speak to someone at the door.

"I'm awfully sorry, I didn't know that there was an inspection today."

"This is not an inspection." A monotone voice replied.