Year 12 (First Draft)

-Chapter 5-

  Andrea pulls up the News, and she selects a video, sending it to the screen on the coffee table in front of us.

  The News symbol shows up first, then, a video begins to play. I've seen the outside of the Government Cells before, but it seems even gloomier than before.

  Suddenly Kane is on screen, followed by three large Agents. I gasp, my heart beginning to race in my chest. I feel the need to scream, to let all of my anxiety and anger out, but I keep quiet, listening intently.

  "We have a message for Felisha Martins," The three Agents say in unison, as Kane hangs his head. My skin crawls.

  A large Agent pushes Kane closer to the camera, and I notice the bruises on his cheek, the swollen skin around his eye. I choke back my tears, bringing a shaky hand up to my lips.

  "Felisha Martins..." A man offscreen says. "Does that name ring a bell?"

  Kane flinches, and the Agent behind him, pushes him to the ground. Kane crumples to his knees, and I can see the physical strain of his muscles.

  "I wouldn't be surprised," The voice says again, taunting him. "Criminals tend to run in packs. I know you know her."

  Kane doesn't move, unaffected by their jabs.

  "I know her," The voice says, dropping an octave, turning to a steely cold vibrato. "I know she was a part of your Year Movement. And if I ever get my hands on her," The man laughs, a low eerie chuckle, "I'll ring her neck. You hear me? I'll hang her by that little neck. Before that? I'll take a knife to that pretty face, make sure she looks like the criminal she is."

  All of a sudden, Kane lunges at the man that has been speaking off screen, and the camera pans, showing Kane, with his hands around the wiry old man's neck.

  "You lay a hand on her, and I'll make sure it's the last thing you ever do," Kane growls, his voice gravelly with anger. An Agent is on him in seconds ripping him away from the old man. The cruel old man just laughs, and all at once, the video stops.

  I don't even notice Mrs. Porter's comforting hand on my knee, or Anya's arms around my shoulders. All I feel is the terror building deep within me, the sadness, hurt, and anger. My heart beat is deafening, and my tears feel like fire rolling down my cheeks.

  "Felisha..." Andrea begins to speak, but she stops, obviously unsure what she can say or do to help.

  "If they send out any more messages to me," I say, my voice constricted, "let me know."

  I hear Amelia starting to whimper, and I look over to her crib, where she has been calmly napping. Every time something goes awry, it's as if she just knows. I walk over to her, and pull her to my chest, thankful to have her warmth.

  "I'm going to go change Amelia, and feed her. If any of you need me, I'll be in my room," I say, cringing at how sullen my voice sounds.

  As I walk back to my room, I replay the footage in my mind. I see Kane being pushed to the ground, his legs collapsing beneath him. I see his hands around the man's neck, his veins bulging, his jaw clenched.

  I hear Anya behind me, silently carrying Amelia's crib. As we approach my room, I open the front door, and we walk in, all staying completely silent. Even though our minds are running amok with plenty of thoughts, our lips can't decide what is best to say, and what should be kept to ourselves. So we say nothing.

  "Thank you," I say simply, as Anya sets the crib by the couch. She nods, walking back to the door. Just before she leaves, I say, "And thank you for doing my hair... It's been a long time since someone has."