The Fall of the Thirteen

Chapter 3 - Wounds

Throw me to the wolves and I'll return leading the pack

*****

*October 8th one year ago*

Malia

"You're going to need to wear this cast for a few weeks at least until the bone fully heals," the doctor said as he hung a sling on my neck, allowing my arm to dangle in front of my chest like an unripe fruit hanging to a tree.

I looked blankly at the sling. "Isn't this a waste of your energy? My arm is going to be broken a lot longer than I will be alive. You of all people should know that the man behind that mirror will make sure of that." I glared at the mirror on my left, knowing full well that the Governor was on the other side watching.

The doctor stepped in between me and the mirror, probably worried that I was going to break more than a bone trying to get to the Governor. "You're not going to die," he assured me.

My glare shifted towards the poor doctor. "I thought doctors weren't meant to lie to their patients. Please don't lie to me, Dr ..."

"Fletcher. Look, nothing is set in stone. The evidence will be reviewed, and the truth will come out, Malia."

"What's your truth?"

Dr Fletcher shot a nervous glance at the mirror. "What I believe doesn't matter."

"I asked you to stop lying to me, Dr Fletcher," I said. "I've seen you in the same meetings my mother and father attend, which means you're a member of the Keeper's Court. The Governor needs a unanimous vote from the Court to kill me, meaning he needs yours. What you believe has the potential to save my life."

Dr Fletcher sighed as he wrote in my patient notes. He didn't speak again until he finished writing; when he finally did, his reply didn't put my mind at ease. "I'm afraid I can't give you an answer. The last thing I want to do is give you false hope." He looked at me, his eyes apologetic.

The lights in the room flickered. We were inside one of Arem City's interrogation rooms hidden deep underground, away from the rest of civilisation. I recognised it from one of my training sessions as part of Arem's Special Forces. Every room was an exact replica of each other. There was a table, two chairs, a mirror and a green door. The black paint on the walls was slowly peeling away, revealing the grey cement behind it – the only thing keeping all of us from getting buried alive. After the events of last night, I've been here under 24-hour surveillance, slowly stewing in the emptiness I felt as the previous twelve hours played inside my head in a constant, unstoppable loop.

"I never really thought about how or when I would die," I said, absent-mindedly as I stared at the peeling black paint. "I didn't expect it to be this soon, though. Our ancestors survived the Great Reap and what do we choose to do with this second chance? We play God, deciding who gets to live and who gets to die. I don't know why I'm surprised, we're not the first ones to do so, and we certainly won't be the last." My eyes stung and unable to stop them, my tears fell one by one. I wiped them away just as quickly as they fell. "Sorry. I want to say goodbye to him."

Dr Fletcher was listening so intently to my monologue that it took him a split-second to realise who I was talking about. "I don't know, Malia," he said, softly. "I'll see what I can do."

Suddenly, the green door slid open. A lanky man with a slender figure entered the room, which, due to its small size, suddenly felt crowded. The man's brown hair was cut short in a buzz cut. The wrinkles on his forehead and the heavy bags under his eyes were evidence of the stress that his position had placed on him. He was back in his characteristic three-piece navy-blue suit, making him look out of place in this dilapidated room. He opened his arms – which were nearly long enough to span the room's width – and said, "Your services are no longer needed here, Dr Fletcher. Thank you."

"I was just on my way out, Governor."

The doors slid shut behind Dr Fletcher. The Governor stared at me as if he possessed the power to kill someone with just one look. He walked towards the camera that sat in one corner of the room and turned it off. "No one else is watching, it's just you and me. I think it's about time we talk, Miss Hart," he said with a stern tone.

"I'm a bit tied up. Maybe another time."

"I'm afraid this can't wait. You have something I need."

I scoffed. "And what the hell would that be?"

The Governor unbuttoned his blazer as he took the seat across me. "Your confession."