When I became free

Chapter 1

“Why are you so quiet Elizabeth?”

        Silence. My mom sighs heavily and disappointment seems to roll off her in waves. I struggle with myself inwardly. Even if I wanted to speak, what would I say?

        She smiled ironically. “I always pictured myself being friends with my daughter. I would get so excited thinking that I would be able to drink coffee with my child and have an adult conversation.” She shook her head sadly. “And now what? You don’t have any conversation with me let alone any other people. Why don’t you ever have friends?”

          I grimaced and tightened my mouth. I used to consider my mother my best friend and I used to have many friends. I was the outgoing chubby girl who lived to meet the standards of others. If grade eight required me to flirt, then I became flirty. If grade nine required me to be smart, then I hit the books. I had no constant qualities. I still don’t.

         The rest of the car ride was silent. I didn’t know what to say. Sorry that I don’t know how to be close to you anymore? How can I tell my own mother that I can no longer become emotionally attached to anyone? I have a wall that even I can’t break down.

She broke the silence as we pulled up the driveway. “Look Lina, I love you. But I can’t stand to see you pushing everyone away.” Neither can I.

         “What happened?”

I will myself to stay calm so tears don’t form. I will not cry.

She grasped my hands tightly in hers and begged, “Just tell me what happened and I’ll help you.”

I didn’t speak.

          “How about I guess? Were you raped darling?” My mother asks urgently with tears pooling her eyes.

I shake my head.

           “Were you assaulted?”

I shake my head.

          “Were you bullied?”

I shake my head.

She tugs at her hair wildly, “Then what?! What happened to you?” She looks quite deranged.

         “Nothing” I muttered so quietly that I wasn’t even confident that she heard. She turned the car off and slammed the door on her way out, much like an angry teenager. I stayed in the car. My eyes became glazed with tears. I miss my mom but I can’t afford to be close to her now. She’s one of them.

            A knock on the window startled me from me dreamless trance. With my heart in my throat, I opened the car door and stepped out.

I slightly bowed my head, “I’m sorry Officer.”

        He grunted, “You’d do well to remember the law. No loitering. Everyone has a job to complete and there is no use for wasted time. I gather that even a Van Necker has obligations to attend to?”

        I flushed, “Yes, Sir.” As I stepped aside to walk past him, he grabbed my arm. “Remember your duty” he warned. Remember your duty was the country motto. Everyone has obligations that they need to fulfill. Mine included learning to be both a presentable woman and a cutthroat business lady.

        Once he was gone I looked around to make sure no one noticed the embarrassing encounter. As High Society, it is considered humiliating to be scorned for not remembering your duty. Only the lower class can be expected to forget.

        I walked up to my modernly styled home with my head held high. In the background I heard a car driving by with an alarm yelling “curfew in 30 minutes!” I felt my heart constrict but refused to falter. Marko, in his smart uniform, opened the front doors for me. I walked past coldly as I was taught. No grateful smiles or thankful words. They are below us.

        My mother was curled up on the corner of the sofa, holding a tissue to her red nose. An obvious sign of crying. A part of me desperately wanted to wrap my arms around her and console her fears. But the larger part of me was too repulsed. How dare she act so weak when I know just how strong she is. I know exactly what she’s capable of.

        So I ignored this damaged figure in the living room that claims to be my mother. I kept walking. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. Not until I was away from this suffocating life. I ran upstairs and locked myself in my room. Suddenly the fear and anxiety I’ve been feeling for days enveloped me and I couldn’t stop my mind from traumatizing me once again.

            It was past curfew but something was off. Why are mom and dad outside? Don’t they know it isn’t safe? I followed them out into the city. After a while I was fairly certain that they weren’t even my parents. After all, my parents are law abiding citizens. Then I heard her speak, “he should be here,” she snarled. I was certain it was my mother but the tone sounded horrific. As if she were a monster. Suddenly Officials dragged the body of a lower class man from the alleyway onto the barely lit street. A tall, heavily muscled one with a deep voice said, “He has confessed to hacking the channel.” The hacker was dressed in old cut-off shorts with a ratty grey shirt and no shoes. Clearly he was poor. My mom smiled evilly, “And what exactly did you think you would be able to achieve by hacking my channel?”

        “I just wanted everyone to see how disgusting our government is. And how evil our ‘Elite Few’ are as well.” He spat, glaring at my parents. One of the Officials hit him hard over the head, “Watch your tongue, scum.”

        In the mocking baby voice that I’ve heard several times in my life, my mom said, “Well then I guess I’ll just have to make an example out of you, won’t I?” She raised a gun and pulled the trigger before he had the chance to make a sound. She turned to the Officials, “Will you please dispose of the body? I can’t handle the sight of blood.” She said coldly.

I woke up drenched in sweat and gasping. Once I realized that it was only a nightmare I started sobbing. It wasn’t just a nightmare. This was real. This happened.