Privacy

Just as sunlight was beginning to filter through the window, Fix jerked awake from his fragile sleep. He looked around his closet-sized room and exhaled deeply, trying to remember what he'd dreamed in order to distract himself from the tough day ahead. His bed mattress groaned as he shifted, silently wishing he could slip back into sleep. Just as he got up, a shrieking alarm ripped through the silent morning to alert the city that it was time to work.

He winced and threw on a dusty red shirt and some cargo shorts that may have been white at some time. He tried to put on his tennis shoes, but they were falling apart so badly that he abandoned them and headed through his door into the kitchen where his friend, Ty, was asleep in front of the oven. Fix sighed and bent down, nudging his friend. He glanced at his reflection in the oven, and frowned at the face staring back. He had dark circles under his green eyes, and his brown hair was shaggy and unkempt.

Ty awoke groggily, sitting up and stretching. His back made an ominous cracking sound that made Fix recoil. Ty stood up and smiled goofily, but Fix scrutinized him with a glare.

"Ty, I've told you that you're welcome to my bed. Why do you insist on sleeping in the most uncomfortable places?" he asked. But underneath his questions was a concern he couldn't bring himself to voice. The only time Ty slept at his house was when something bad happened at his own. Fix worried that one day, his older brother would take it too far.

He looked his friend up and down indiscreetly, trying to locate bruises or anything that would warrant medical attention. Ty noticed, and bristled.

"Would you stop? I can handle myself. You aren't my mother," he said defensively. Fix didn't bother to hide his surprise at his friend's flippant remark. He almost never brought up his parents, and especially never his mother.

When Fix stepped forward, though, the anger wavered and his hazel eyes filled with shame. Fix stared him down until he relented, raising up his shirt and turning around.

Fix inhaled angrily, staring at the bright red lines that lined his closest friend's back. Before he could explode the warning alarm sounded, which meant they had only three minutes to get to work. Fix reluctantly stored his comments as panic filled him.

They took off running through the door, racing down the street and around corner after corner. As they ran they unconsciously ducked their heads to hide from the cameras, though it didn't do any good. Fix cursed as a piece of broken glass lodged itself into his foot, but didn't slow down. The final alarm went off just as they arrived at the Station. The other officers frowned disappointedly as they made their arrival.

They'd hoped to punish them for being late.

"Glad to see you could make it," Niten, their boss, sneered. He turned away from them in disgust and began to list the day's jobs. Most people got Supervision, which was usually easy, since nobody really revolted anymore. Supervision was basically where groups of Officers went through the towns and made sure no equipment was damaged. Fix listened with a dreadful anticipation as less and less spots were available in Supervision. Once he got to them, he smiled and leaned forward, obviously enjoying himself. Fix knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"You two can take Pest Control," he said, grinning. Fix fought to control his expression in front of his boss, but he couldn't stop the chill that ran down his spine or the dread in the pit of his stomach. He silently prayed that Ty wouldn't protest, or Niten might decide to punish them for disobedience.

"It isn't our week!" Ty said, his face drained of color. Fix held his breath as Niten scoffed.

"It's your week if I say it's your week, officer," he growled before moving on to the next person. Ty looked faintly ill as he turned toward the streets. Fix felt the tension release him as the threat of punishment faded, however his apprehension was growing as he pulled out his club.

He hoped the people had learned to hide by now.

He doubted it.