Year 18

-Chapter 7-

 I wander to the other side of my Cell, leaving the Agents and Charlie outside to their bickering. I rub the bruises on my arms, feeling more vulnerable than I have in months. They know how to get to me, how to hurt me. Before Kane, the only thing that mattered to me was my life. My family wasn't in the picture, and I hadn't made any allies on the streets. When all I cared about was myself, I didn't care who else had to suffer for me to live. But now that it's Kane I want to protect, Amelia, Andrea, Mrs. Porter, Paul, Andrew, the list goes on and on, they dictate how I move forward. And so I can't fight. I can't put them in danger. So for now, I just have to do whatever I can to stay alive, and not cause any more problems.

I hear Charlie shouting orders, and even louder than that are the Agents' laughs as they ignore him, going about their self-decided activities.

A part of me feels bad for Charlie, who in this case is very much trying to help me, to keep me safe. But I also can't bring myself to sympathize, because if he feels he has power over them, he feels like he belongs here. And when they are listening to him rather than criticizing him, I will no longer be of any concern to him.

But for now, for now while Charlie's tyranny has come to an end, I have him. I have his help and his protection. And I will use that until I can't. That much I'm sure of.

"You need to wake up," Hands jostle my shoulder, and I start, coming out of what I've now come to call a good night's sleep, "Wake up!"

The Agent that has been stationed outside is there, shaking me back and forth. "You need to wake up."

Lights are flashing; big, obnoxious red lights I am trying to figure out how I slept through. There are rushing footsteps out in the hall, thundering, another thing I am wondering how I missed. I look all around, trying to take in my environment, trying to see if there's a threat I have yet to see.

"What's going on?" I grumble, standing up, trying my best to figure out what's happening.

"We still don't know yet," He says, grabbing my arm, slapping restraints back around my wrists, the wrists that have yet to recover from the last time, "but we have to go."

"And they want to take me to safety?"

The Agent nods, hauling me out of the Cell.

"For all they know, this could be because of you. Some equipment was tampered with and one of our trucks was blown up this morning. There were a dozen Agents in it. Only one survived, and he's in pretty bad shape."

"And civilians?"

"Ten were found. No identification though."

"And that's why everyone's up in arms?"

"No, there have been bomb threats all day."

"It's not him," I say, "he wouldn't be that reckless."

"He wouldn't?" The Agent stops for just a second to give me a very pointed look. "The man who is so blindly in love with you wouldn't throw caution to the wind to try to get to you? Right."

I bristle at his tone, his degrading accusation.

Despite his words and the intonation of his voice, he doesn't appear upset. If anything, there's a look of admiration and respect. "Where do you fall?" I ask.

"Excuse me?" He pulls me along, and we are suddenly heading down a set of large metal stairs, other Agents crowding the space.

"I can't figure you out. Which side you sympathize with."

He blows out a deep breath, one I think he's been holding a lot longer than the few seconds since his last. "Maybe I don't side with either. Maybe I fall somewhere in the middle."