Daughter of the Lake

Jami Henry

November 30, 2021

I’ve never been much of a talker. Maybe as a child, when my words slipped from my tongue carelessly; when the red wire beneath my mother’s pillow didn’t sting as bad, and district units weren’t obstructed by the malicious Tyek Thane. But now, the quiet of midnight is my only escape. Times like these, I have no recollection of her hatred for me or the unsettlingly stillness of our bland corridor. Though, as painful as the lashings were back then, the blindingly loud thoughts in my head interrupt the calm and revive my inescapable nostalgia. “07?” She remains undisturbed by my grotesque mannerisms. Its laughable honestly. The way I mock her image. Daring to be more of a child to my own biological parent, than the object they assign us to be. But that’s how the country is now. Not enough love to go around for all of us. “07?” I threaten her authority once again, begging for another bitter lashing. A small squeak beckons from my lips, but before a single word can escape, her hand hits the alert button with disdain. 

Several Wallers come crashing in, and cause my body to instantly hit the floor. Blue lights flash before me as shock waves sear my skin. And like that, I am nothing but the thoughts in my head, surrounded by oceans of darkness. Once again, as if stuck in a loop. After what seem like hours, I crawl from the floor in agony. Limping my way to my cot, just to return to a nagging stomach. Three days without food for what? Discipline? All so Alcondites (higher ups) can fall asleep on full stomachs, never fearing that their next day could be their last. It all seems unbearable. Worst part is the pain is never truly understandable until you’re the one suffering through it.

 Every night and day are one in the same, like a never-ending nightmare. No friends, no one to care for you, just loneliness. As I close my eyes, a small whirring noise at my window seeps through the cracks of my room. A loud “clink” shocks me awake. Not only am I welcomed to a cool midnight breeze, but also a crate carried by a silver Crain. “What the hell?” I whip around, assuring that 07 didn’t hear my foul language. As I go to pick up the distressed wood, I look underneath the structure only to see the messy words ‘Corthane District’ in blood red paint. 

Corthane District: One of the highest of the low-class districts, punished the same but acceptable laborers to the Alcondites. I plop back on my cot. Lifting the lid, a familiar yet inconceivable smell seeps from inside. Food? A lot of it too. 20 packages of vacuum sealed meats, 10 cans of vegetables, and 3 loafs of bread. To my surprise, another couple thuds snap me back to reality. This time, three gallons of water, barely hanging on to the small landing space of my window. As I carefully reach for two of them, the third falls and crashes into the bushes below me. “Damnit” I whisper, wishing I hadn’t been so careless for once. The lights flicker in our hall and immediately I shove the items into a crawl space behind my dresser. 

“Flora why are you still awake?” 07 speaks with urgency. I turn around placing my hands politely to my side with my head held down, “Permission to speak?” She looks around, “No, I don’t care enough, don’t wake me up again or the Wallers will be back.” I nod and crawl back in bed, my heart pitters, feeling I almost touched death itself. As I calm myself a small smirk appears across my face. How did you find me, and who are you?

For the next three days, things seem to come easier to me… well, maybe not easier but at least having food eliminates one of my problems. By day fourteen the crates are still being dropped off, reloading once every two weeks each with different substance. I notice physical changes in the mirror. Ones that aren’t common for seventeen-year old’s here. I barely mask it by wrapping my arms, legs, and chest in Ceram wrap.

The morning of day 42, I am proceeded to the courtyard along with 600 others by Wallers. Another reoccurring part of our training. Starting from age 12 children in the countries are expected to serve everyone higher than them. From Parents to Alcondites, on a restricted diet of one meal every three days. In the past, those below elitists could afford food, they could afford love, but now, our reward is merely living to see tomorrow. My demeanor differs from those around me. I walk with more ease, and the bags under my eyes have begun to disappear. I haven’t been the only one either, just one of the few who haven’t been caught. The punishment for stealing food is the same for all other acts of severe incompetence, death. Only dying peacefully would be too easy, so instead, they pin you to the wall and cut you once a day until maggots begin to settle, decomposing you alive. It seems like every day there’s someone on the wall, but all I can ever think of is how happy I’m not the one waiting for my demise and hopelessly praying for someone to save me.When we approach the meeting gates, our district general Tyek Thane greets us with hostility and bitterness. 

“Those over 15 years will be chipped today, 14 and under will work the yards. If anyone speaks, you will be lashed. Any runners will be lashed. I will gladly do it myself if it means you will do your damned job-” Immediately he’s cut off by the piercing sound of the escape alarm. “We’ve got a runner!” shouts a Waller as we’re all forced to our knees by electric batons. Not even a week can pass by without someone deciding to run. It’s never worth it; getting caught just to call a beating. 

“Wonder who it is this time,” an unfamiliar girl next to me smirks slyly. I don’t remember ever seeing her here. I don’t reply. “Well don’t be such a stiff, don’t you want to know what happened?” she continues. I check my surroundings carefully, no Wallers are near the middle of the crowd, so I talk, “Why do you care,” attempting to be as dismissive as possible “stop talking before you get us walled.” Without hesitation she stands up, keeping a mischievous smile. “Get down! What the hell are you doing!?” 

“Hey! You don’t talk.” A Waller bellows at us from the front stage, only he isn’t speaking to her. No one is. She calmly takes one step, then another, and not a soul notice. Her steps remain confident yet cautious. Slowly moving towards the left exit near the front stage until she arrives at the gate. I watch dumbfoundedly. She smiles back at me, raising her wrist, and unlocking the gate. As it opens, she turns, whispering something indistinctive back to me, and just like that, she’s out. 

As I try to stand up, I’m warned again by the blue lightning emanating from nearby. I back down before noticing a silver device next to me. Reaching to touch it, a dim red glow appears inside my wrist. “What is this?” I say loudly, quickly catching myself to assure no one heard me. I grab the device and stuff it into my lose overalls, attempting to test my luck again. With it near me, I speak again, “Hello?” No one sees nor hears me. I slowly stand up, looking around, my mind races with my clammy hands clutching the cool silver in my pocket. Am I a ghost? I slowly walk to the gate, making my way across the crowd praying that I’m not already dead. I continue holding it with my hand brushing the engraved symbols ‘225CD’on its side. Maybe Corthane district? As I approach the gate, I say nothing. Confused on how to pass, I lift my hand to bang on the gate, but before I do another glow appears from my wrist. I gave it back and forth over the sensor causing a small beeping signal appears on the gate keypad. It’s no signal that I’ve ever seen the guards use before, only the girl. Remembering her escape, I slowly raise my wrist to the scanner and a loud “click” comes from the lock of the gate door. It creaks open slowly, and my eyes light up at the sight of freedom. I slip by, grinning just as big as the person before me. I walk out and look around, but before I can move another inch, an unfamiliar voice calls my name.

“Flora Donix?” I whip around surprised by the appearance of a woman in white with hair the color of flames, “You’ll be coming with us”. A. sudden sharp pain envelops my shoulder, I look down finding an unexpected hand withdrawing a needle from my veins. My world blurs leaving me with no pain, only terror. Who is she? Or maybe the more important question should be, who am I?