Our Forgotten Souls

Chapter Nine

If my heart hadn't been thundering loud enough before, it was a beating drum now.

But before I could start spouting refusals, denying anything and everything he could possibly accuse me of, he began to laugh.

"Oh, wow, I'm so very sorry...," he gasped out, between loud, hearty chuckles. "I did not mean to terrify you..."

I guess my fear had been painted all over my face.

"I'm merely messing with you. I just meant you look very good for your age," he commented, his chuckles fading away to a simple smile. I felt relief course through me.

I was younger than Sardon was supposed to be. Fortunately for me, he didn't seem to think much of it.

"Anyway, we should probably jump right into the swing of things. As you already know, your position is practically confirmed. This meeting is to gauge more of who you are and how you'll be able to work with our larger body. Nothing to worry about," he continued, that jolly smile plastered on his round face.

How he could smile while people died in the streets was beyond me.

I blinked and pushed that anger back inside of me. If I didn't keep it on a leash, I'd be screwed, too.

"All right, first question: what do you aspire to do in this position?"

I pasted a smile upon my own face, hoping my eyes didn't give away how much I hated this. Then, with a deep breath, I began.

I began to tear who I used to be apart, piece by piece.

_________________________________

By the time it had ended, and I was back in the car, all I could feel was utter exhaustion.

It was the deep-seated kind that filled me. I wanted to cry and punch someone in the face at the same time.

Usually, these were the days where I'd decided to go out. When I felt like this, turning my anger and exhaustion into a passion tended to help.

Right now, that wasn't an option.

And it'd never be an option again.

My driver didn't speak to me as I was taken back in the direction of the nondescript house I was staying in. I wondered what my interviewer would have said if he'd seen how I was truly living.

Not that I minded. That's what I was used to.

As I stared out the window, I began to feel a sense of hopelessness. We drove by parts of town farther from the center. Here, people wandered the white cemented streets, wearing old clothes and seeming aimless. None of them had much.

None of them had any time to live.

I was sure of it.

Sometimes, people called the slums the Slaughtering Block. If you lived here, you were destined for execution.

It disturbed me, but there was little I could do. I did feel guilty. I was driving by in an elegant black limo, wearing high heels, nice lipstick and knowing I'd have food and a bed when I got back

Well, I guess I wasn't totally sure about that last part. But I assumed they'd keep me generally alive because they needed me as their spy.

I let out a soft sigh and turned away from the window.

That's when the world blew up.