The Girl

"There were twelve of them," the girl swallows, her lower lip trembling.

"And their faces?"

Silence falls upon the room, seeming to be choking the girl.

"No," her eyes flit from the floor to the man's awaiting eyes, to the limp rope in her hands, "the faces?"

The investigator nods his head. He looks at me, obviously very annoyed. I gave him my opinion and told him what would be best, but he didn't take the advice that is of vital importance to this matter.

"You look at me like it's my fault," I accuse harshly.

"Well-"

"Black," the girl mumbles, drawing the evil man's attention away from me.

"Excuse me?"

"Black faces," she pauses, "slits for their eyes and-"

She shudders again, falling back in the chair. The girl reminds me of my sister, brown hair with loose curls and icy blue eyes, tan skin. My heart longs for the girl's. Whatever she's been through is hurting terribly inside, but I don't know how to help her.

"They were wearing black hoods I presume?" Again, the investigator's sharp, penetrating stare and his drawling voice.

The girl looks up, eyes wide, "Yes."

An exact answer, finally. This is what we wanted, what we were hoping for. The man breathes deeply beside me and leans back in his chair as his pencil scratches across his yellow pad of paper. I glance up at the clock on the wall, the hands shifting from one number to the next. We have been in this stuffy room for more than an hour. The man has been asking too many questions.

"Twelve of them, black hoods," the man looks up, opening his mouth, perhaps to ask another question but I interrupt.

"This is enough."

His dark, brown eyes are glued to mine, anger flashing behind his composed manner. "Remember your place, Joanna."

My heart thumps loud in my chest, my stomach twisting into knots. "No," I bring my voice to a shaky whisper, "this girl has had enough and so have I."

I stand up abruptly, lifting my bag from the floor and walking over to put my hands on the back of the girl's chair. "We've had enough," I say again. "Thank you."

The girl starts to rise from the chair, the expression on her face, surprised and slightly bemused. The power in this room has changed quickly.

"They'll hear about this Joanna," the man threatens.

I turn back, the girl's hand in mine, her rope dragging behind her. "Oh, but will they?"

With my heels clicking on the floor and the swish of the little girl's rope we sound powerful walking out the door and down the halls. Women being strong is a joke our community laughs about. Today is different, though. The girl is silent. The dark corridors light up as we walk down each one, the lights following us as we go.

"Julia." It's the first time I've said the name in a long time, and my heart aches for the faraway face with her hazel eyes and tan skin. I look down at the girl to find her gaze steady and still. "You miss her, don't you?"

How the girl knows, I would never know. "Yes," I stop walking in the hall, and the lights hover above us, humming softly. I sink to the ground, beside the girl.

"It's hard," she is gentle, a whole different girl than the one she was not only a few minutes ago.

I laugh because I'm supposed to be the psychologist. I'm supposed to be composed and kept to myself, listening and observing. I am like the evil man, hired to sit and observe and document.

"You're not like the man," she rests a shaky hand on my arm. "I promise you."

"How-"

"The faces. They're coming for you."

Then, suddenly as if the girl's soul has parted from the earth, her body goes rigid and her knuckles turn white, clutching the rope tightly in her hands.

"Julia," I snap out of my act of stupor and shake the girl's shoulders.

"Twelve of them. The faces."

I stand up, and start to pull the girl along but she doesn't move. "Come on."

She tilts her head, staring up at me, her eyes glossy, "Please," she pleads. "Run."

"What?" My heart drops into my stomach. The words my sister spoke to me before she died. This can't be a coincidence. "Let's keep going."

She's quiet again, but my mind wanders and I flinch at every droplet of water, leaking from the ceiling above as they plop on the marble floors. "To my office," I say, though she never asked.

We get to the elevators and I punch the topmost button, watching the numbers drop as the elevator clicks down each floor. A female voice cracks over the small speakers that line the sides of the hallways, "Joanna Kaetzel, please report to the office immediately."

I glance down at the girl. Her gaze is focused on something ahead, as if she can see through the metal doors of the elevator. The doors open, and I hustle, pulling the girl inside with me.

"Can you click the button for the garages?" I glance down the hall. "I thought I saw something-"

The doors start to close and the girl presses the button. We aren't going to my office, we're leaving, and I'm taking Julia with me.

"They're coming," she's crying now.

It's just shock, I tell myself. Whatever those people did to her… I can't even imagine.

"Hey it's okay, Julia," she looks up into my eyes, her lower lip trembling. "You are okay, I'll get you out of here-"

"The pain!" She screams, grasping the rope tighter. Julia falls to the floor. She smacks a hand against her forehead, "Make it stop! Please, make it stop!"

What's wrong with this girl? Her mood changes so quickly, I was never trained for this, ever. "Julia," my voice shakes. Her body is violently shaking now, her cheeks red, tears dripping down the end of her chin.

"They're coming for you, Joanna!"

The elevator doors screech open, "Let's go." I start to pull Julia out the door but she smacks my hand away.

"Stop, please," she begs me.

But I don't stop. Perhaps I am remembering my sister, Julia, and how my mother and I ran away, like my sister had told us to. We left my sister to die. I can't do that with Julia now.

I wrench her out the door and she screams and cries.

"Julia, please," I kneel down, cupping her face in my hands. "Please, what is the meaning of this?"

"I can't come. Leave me here. Run, Joanna. You have to run."

I shake my head, "No, I'm not leaving you here-"

"Do it for Julia."

It's a simple phrase, just four meaningless words to anyone else, but they mean the world to me. I let go of Julia and she stares into my eyes.

"I have to do this now," she brings the rope up to her neck. I step away, shaking my head. "You will run," she sobs more, her body racking forward, "Don't stop."

"No. I can't."

It's silent in the garage, the cars motionless behind me, the trees bending over from the wind. Julia nods her head.

"You will. Run till you find Julia for me, okay?"

"What?"

She brings the rope to her neck suddenly, her eyes bulging. I cup a hand to my mouth. I have to stop her, I have to. What is going on?

My stomach twists. I take one last look at the girl, one last prayer, then I turn and run. I keep my arms close to my sides pumping them fast as I fly through the garage. It's a sprint, and it carries me far enough away so I don't hear the gurgle from the girl's throat and then the footsteps of the black hooded people, stepping over her body.

I leave the garage and cross over a road, into a tall field of grasses. The things cut at my face and my arms and hands, but I keep my pace till I get to the wall that surrounds the city. Those who have snuck out never come back. People have told me that there's water surrounding the walls of the city. They've also told me there's liquid fire, bubbling and boiling, waiting to burn and kill. I shake these thoughts from my mind and start climbing the rickety ladder on the side. Rumors, I tell myself. Just rumors.

I stop when I realize what I'm doing. I'm leaving. I'm risking my life. I look up to where the ladder ends. Officers clomp on the rim of the walls. Perhaps they can see to the outside. But, that can't be right.

I keep climbing. One rung to the next, the paint flaking off on my hands as I climb. When I get to the top I keep my head low. I don't dare look down or behind me, the wind whipping at me is enough, and if I fall, I'll never see Julia.

What's the coincidence, though? My sister's name was Julia, the girl's name was Julia. They both told me to run, and I did.

The rungs if the ladder shake, and creak. I swallow my fear and look down. I count them fast. Twelve people. Black hoods, slits for their eyes. They're climbing up the ladder, fast.

I poke my head over the rim of the wall. No officers. Now is my chance. I hoist myself over the rim. The officers can't see beyond. There's a second wall blocking their view. They're only to patrol the city. We're supposed to be kept in, but why?

I run to the second wall. It's stone and mortar, good for climbing. I scramble up the wall. There's shouting below me and I curse under my breath. I'm almost there. Then it's revealed. This is what some risk their lives for, what some lose bets to: climbing the city's wall to live and see what is beyond it. It's a field. Then a city, far off in the distance. They were lying to us. The leaders of our city were lying. We're not alone, but maybe they don't know that.