Dangerous

Prologue

I remember the day the government took my oldest brother Marcus away.

He came downstairs with bags under his eyes. He looked like he had been crying, and I didn't understand why. Mother had put a plate of eggs and toast in front of him, his favorite, and I remember trying not to notice the way his hands shook with every bite he took, the way he couldn't look me in the eye. I attempted to speak to him but Mother quickly hushed me and the three of us ate in silence.

The date was August twenty third. His sixteenth birthday.

Soon after, my brother Alex had come downstairs. He took one look at Marcus and his face crumpled, loud sobs escaping his mouth. I looked up, alarmed, as my mother hurried Alex out of the room, her hand wrapped reassuringly around the small of his back, but the worry evident in the deep creases running across her forehead. Alex heaved in heavy breaths, the sound of his panicking the last thing I heard before he was ushered out of sight.

Marcus was biting his bottom lip, so hard that blood showed through the tight crease of his mouth, and he shaked silently, his barely touched eggs and toast long forgotten. I reached my small hand out to him and he took it, squeezing so hard I felt it would burst, but I kept silent. Mother returned, wiping her bloodshot eyes, and I once again pretended not to notice and pretended not to want to know what was going on. Curiosity is a dangerous thing, and we are forbidden to question the things we don't understand.

But I never was very good at following the rules.

"Mother-" I whispered, the sound much too loud in the silence that encompassed the breakfast table. Her hard gaze turned toward me. I could see Marcus glance at me out of the corner of my eye. The shaking had calmed slightly, but he still trembled, and I could feel his pulse beating rapidly in his wrist, his hand still intertwined with mine.

"You know the rules, Jessalyn." Mother's tone was hard, and she turned back to the sink, scrubbing the dirty breakfast dishes furiously. The eggs had gotten stuck to the frying pan, and she scrubbed even harder, almost desperately, at the dull piece of metal. Her apron stretched across her stomach, her baby bump showing slightly through her shirt. I was thrown back to a time when my father would have been standing right by her side as she cleaned up after our breakfast, belting out the words to a random song, as my mother, stern but with a smile on her face, would tell him to pay attention to his duty of drying the dishes, and not to let a single one slip through his fingers because it was her good china and her grandmother had spent a lot of money on it before it was handed down to us.

The silence was deafening. I no longer had an appetite, and let my eggs fall off of the edge of my fork and onto my plate without a care. I was almost relieved when a loud knock on our front door resonated through the house, until I saw the look on my brother's pale face and heard Alex scream from somewhere upstairs.

Mother straightened up immediately, wiping her wet hands on her apron, her face white. She took a shaky breath, and shared a look with Marcus that I couldn't even begin to understand. He simply nodded and slowly stood up from his seat at the table, the chair screeching against the tile floor in protest, following my mother out to the front hall. Just before the door swung closed behind them, I could see them clasp hands.

I was left alone at the table in a confused silence. After a moment of contemplation, I rose from my seat and followed them to the front hall.

Peeking around the corner, I saw two unfamiliar men standing in the doorway of our house. They were speaking quietly to Marcus and he was looking down at his feet, nodding slightly. My mother had tears running down her cheeks, and she sniffled loudly when one of the men said something to her, shaking her head.