Black Dove (Watty Awards 2012)

Chapter Ten

The next day comes and I’m wheeled out of the medical room and back to my cell. But this time Kane isn’t there and they don’t let me out of the immobilizing chair. I know today is the day I’m supposed to kill him, so I suppose they are making him look better, without the stringy hair and dirty face, for the cameras that are going to broadcast it all around the world.

            I still don’t know if I love him. I ruefully hope that I’m not misleading him, but all I wanted was a friend. He’s made it more than that. All I know is that I don’t want to kill him. But what choice do I have? I kill him, or they kill Darran, Essie, and Alyssa. I wouldn’t exactly count them as friends of mine, but I don’t want anyone at all dying on my account, and it was my fault the Green Trident captured them in the first place.

            A short time later, someone comes for me. He brushes my hair, and washes my face with some warm soapy water. He also puts an outfit on me: simple brown pants with a blue, high collared shirt, to hide the bandages on my neck. Of course they don’t want the people thinking that I was tortured—acting like I simply complied with them would be much more powerful.

            For the first time in a long time, I get a chance to think. It still startles me that people were inspired by me. Me? I was only in the army to get out of the camp, so I could find Jace’s killers. And in a roundabout way, it sort of worked. The Green Trident killed him…just to continue the war. Just like they’ll kill Kane. And maybe me as well.

            But I could see what they would see: a young, silent girl, gets her voice back, follows ‘the boy she loves’ into the army, gets killed in the same battle as him. And then resurfaces. So no matter how bewildering it seems, I can kind of understand it. The people needed a symbol, someone they could rely on, someone who was pure. I, though far from pure, seemed to fit the requirements to people who didn’t know me…and even had a symbol of my own, my dove. My black dove.

            I wish I still had the paperweight Kane had made for me, but that had been long lost in all the fighting and unconsciousness that had happened to me over the last few weeks. But I still had my necklace, still fastened around my neck, like always. I expect Trident left it there to strengthen the idea of me being a symbol. How I hate him! If I was out of this chair, I would strangle him.

            Or would I? For the first time I doubt whether I could actually murder, in cold blood, Jace’s killers. I’ve killed people before, yes, but not because I wanted to. Because I had to.

            And I don’t even know who in particular killed him. Trident, surely, by extension, had something to do with it…but Jace is gone. Killing them won’t bring him back, and it won’t even bring my voice back, like I used to believe. Kane has already done that for me.

            I feel exhausted. I’m tired of having to decide what the right thing to do, say, think, decide. But I need to do it again. Because I’m let out of the chair, blindfolded, and led through turning hallways and staircases before coming out on some sort of balcony above a city. A camera is pointed at a Green Trident reporter, who is already recording what will be patched into the international broadcast after I shoot Kane.

            “Breaking news…Avalynne Southwood, heralded by many as a peace bringer, has just shot her supposed love, Kane Shorlen. Investigations are being made into why she has done this terrible thing, and she has been imprisoned for the time being. One thing is clear—the Green Trident are more powerful than the general populace thought they were.”

            I feel sick. Someone places me on an marker, and Kane is dragged in, his hair blowing in the winds, high above the city. Trident is there too. He hands me a gun, and immediately the guards right off camera point rifles and shotguns at me. If I even look at someone the wrong way, I know they’ll shoot. I would have tried it too, but Darran and Essie are tied and gagged in the corner of the rooftop. They look fine physically, but Essie’s face has tear tracks etched all the way down it. I wonder if it has something to do with Alyssa.