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You guys ask very specific and intriguing questions, but alas, I cannot answer them without giving away the plot twists; so although it elates me that you're wondering such things, I won't be answering them :(

Chapter 3

The heavy curtain of darkness that hung over my mind was both condemning, and comforting. For one thing, I was alone, I could let go. It was tranquil solidarity.

On the other more frightening hand, I was alone; nobody was here with me. The loneliness went from content solidarity to a choking isolation. Yet, I couldn't find the strength within me to look for a way out. The darkness was infinite in itself; it seemed like a pointless mission.

I heard nothing, saw nothing, and felt nothing; I hadn't known what to make of it.

With a sudden burst of light, the nothingness was illuminated with a heavenly stream of golden light. After a few infinite moments of confusion, I realized that the light was coming from my window.

A dream; of course, it always was.

This was no random dream; I had it almost every night. Each evening, I would crawl in my bed, and tell myself the dream would not haunt me tonight. But every night, it did. It always returned. Most people had dreams about their lives, their friends, their family, their desires, their fears; but I never did.

Perhaps my mind just wasn't creative enough to find any of significance in my life to dream about.

Or maybe, I pondered jokingly, maybe the dream is everything, Maybe the darkness is my fear—my desire, my friend, my life. My internal joke stopped short, for it seemed too horribly accurate to be funny.

Shaking my head, I pushed the thoughts away, but they were never completely banished. They danced along the borderline of my conscious mind and my subconscious.

Slipping off the high mattress and onto the floor, I caught sight of myself in the long rectangular mirror that hung on my door. My hair was a rat's nest and dark circles were prominent under my eyes; a pang of fear rang up my spine. Mother would have not only a cow, but the whole farm. I imagined Alice's face as she saw I missed brushing my hair; she was the only one of my peers I feared. And I meant that in an endearing way.

I found my legs carrying me to the vanity, and picking up the silver hairbrush, and bringing it to my heavy, thick, mass that I was ashamed to call my hair. But as soon as I was able to focus in on my reflection in the mirror, I had to stop.

Miss Garratt's face took the place of my own in the mirror; images of her expression when she was dragged out that door haunted me like a shadow. Along with Alice's desperate beseeching for me to be quiet, they worked together to bring me into a darker place of despair. Of course I never breathed a word of this to Mother; nothing could be hidden from her if she went looking for it. She could have sensed my real feelings about the speech; I silently prayed.

My gaze flickered to the dress Mother had set out for me; it was big and fluffy. Normally, this would irk me, but now, I couldn't find any reserve of energy left within me to be even remotely upset about it. It was only a minor concern.

I wasn't used to have major things hang over my head. If things went wrong, they were usually small and easily overlooked. But now, this had broken through my barrier. It bothered me in such a way, that I wished I could forget it all, but I knew I couldn't ignore it.

I threw it over my head, stuffing my body into the uncomfortable fabric. After it was on ('on' being an extreme understatement, it was as tight as a glove). I kept my eyes away from the mirror-why torment myself? Beauty was Alice's talent, not mine.

Gently opening the door, I started down the hallway; I let my eyes glance to my mother's door. It wasn't ajar unlike it usually was in the morning in my peripheral vision. How odd.

Burning curiosity coursed through my body, willing my legs forward until I was twisting the doorknob cautiously, with the intention of waking her up. Her curtains weren't almost clear like mine, perhaps I should adjust to waking up before she does, and in fact it may become an advantage.

"Mother?" I called softly, rubbing some sleep from my eyes, looking to her bed. It was made neatly, indicating she was already awake. A flutter of unease settled in the pit of my stomach.

I half ran downstairs to see if she was making breakfast, then I slowed to a nice walk, with the knowledge that if I were to do anything uncivilized, such as running, I'd get an ear full. I glanced through the door into the kitchen and saw a lone piece of heavy folded paper sitting on the island. I took it in my hands and pried it open with the aura of suspense hovering over me.

It read:

Isabella,

I have gone to the market to buy more sugar. We are out. You really should watch your sugar intake. I will monitoring the amount of sugar you put on your meals until I see an improvement. Nobody likes an overweight young lady.

Sincerely,

Renee

I gently stroked the pen indentions in the paper; she was always reminding me that I wasn't the prettiest or most dazzling girl out there, unlike Alice, who was a goddess in her petite splendor. This was a halfway subtle (haha, right) way of telling me I was gaining weight, even though I hadn't noticed anything of the sort. But, of course, I usually didn't.

She always had something to complain about when it came to my appearance. I wasn't even sure she knew when my birthday was. Or cared. She had forgotten the last two… Or purposefully overlooked them. One was accurate, and the other made me feel a little better.

I pushed the thoughts into the back of my mind, back with that first one, and slowly trudged my way back up the stairs, not even caring to fix my posture. The house was beginning to have a nice atmosphere of quiet peacefulness fall over it.

I walked past her room once again; I saw I had forgotten to close the door. Chills ran up my spine as I imagined the lecture I would receive for going into her room. I quickly made my way over to the door. I had my hand on the doorknob when I caught sight of a lone drawer. It was sloppily laid on the floor by the foot of the bed. Odder still.

Curiosity gripped me as I pushed open the door just a little more and stepped closer (looking over my shoulder every few seconds, and warring against my curiosity and my safety) to the drawer, slowly sitting down in front of it and started pulling out its contents. The hairs on the back on my neck stood on end as I kept listening for any sign of life in the house or any shift of air.

Ready to bolt from the room at any moment, my hand searched greedily through the drawer. I let out a small gasp as I felt a tiny cut along the tip of my finger. I yanked out my hand and saw I had gotten a paper cut. Cautiously I let my other hand wander back into the drawer, looking for what caused it.

I pulled out a photograph, it old and yellowing at the edges; a smear of red of the corner showed where I cut my finger. The blood left my face, but not because of the cut.

In the photograph, I could make out a younger, happier looking version of my mother, with a…man? I'd never seen one in real life (or in a photograph for that matter), but they've been described to me time and time again. Then there were the old paintings and sketches the Crazies showed me.

He was standing beside her with his arms around her waist and her arms snuggly around his neck. They looked happy. In my left hand was a small ring with a simple diamond in the center. I wasn't positive of what it was, though Mother wore jewelry all the time; I wondered why this was locked away in here. It was so pretty. I found myself gently stroking it; the sunlight threw rainbows through it.

I wasn't mad! Mother must have loved him, she had to have. Please, I pled into oblivion, a blanket of security fell over me as I realized, I truly wasn't insane. A ball I hadn't even known existed that had formed in the pit of my stomach, began unraveling in a series of even motions; relief.

But, why was she the way she was now? Wouldn't she be against the Hawks, against everything being taught? The woman in the picture and the one I knew weren't the same by any standard. The one in the picture was glowing, joyful, and at the peak of her life. The one I knew was cold, distant, and controlling. What happened to spawn such a change?

I sat back in a comfortable position, out of my old one where I could easily flee if I needed to. I stopped listening for the sounds of footfall— I was too entranced with my new discovery.

Who was that man? I peered closer and saw that mother's stomach was not flat like it is now; it had an almost unnoticeable bump in it. She was always one to stay physically fit; I don't think that would have been any different in the past. Was she pregnant then? Had she gone to The Care Center?

My breathing grew labored as my eyes flickered between these things. My mind raced at lightning speed as the clues fell into place to make a horrible yet beautiful picture in my brain.

She never spoke of him, but I knew he had to be my father. I kept finding my features in his face, his hair color, his height, his nose.

To have a baby they must have loved each other. So Mother was in love with this man? Was she still in love with him? A million and one questions cluttered my brain, like Alice gets when I do that coin behind her ear, trick.

The light reflected off something, big and stone like; I reached in and pulled it out. It was a hand sized heart shaped necklace with a simple red jewel embedded in the center; on the back, it read:

To Bella, my pride and joy, when you are faced with adversity, make sure to put the pieces together. I love you.

Love,

Daddy

I love you. I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard Mother say that to me. I love you. I suddenly felt glorious, I felt wanted. I had almost forgotten what the words meant. How could he love me though? He didn't even know me. Was this feeling so strong, that he didn't even need to have met me to love me?

However, that one phrase at the end puzzled me. 'Put the pieces together'; I obviously hadn't inherited a way with words. What did that mean?

A man somewhere who loved me, across the biggest forests, the iciest of lands, the most scalding of deserts, there could be a man, my father, who loved me as much as the inscription on the necklace indicated.

A sudden and strong twinge of belonging and love engulfed me. I wasn't alone after all. Someone out there really loved me. I was wanted. I belonged somewhere.

But Mother had kept it from me. Why?

A powerful, white hot, fire burst in my chest, crippling my body. I wasn't able to handle so many different emotions all at once. So much anger, resentment, and at the same time… love? I didn't know how to deal with it all.

An angry grunt came from behind me; I'd recognized that grunt anywhere. Fear crawled up my spine and crept up my neck; along with the tang of red, hot adrenaline. It was like a drug. It boiled in my veins like an omen.

"Isabella, why are you in my things?" Mother's infuriated voice echoed through the stone cottage. But it had something extra, on top of the rage; a twinge of desperation and anxiety perhaps?

She scurried over to where I sat perfectly comfortable, and tried to grab the items from my grasp, but my arms recoiled, despite my better judgment.

"Give, that back to me, it's mine." She leaned into me, and grabbed hold my arm, trying to yank it away from my chest; I shut my eyes and fought against her pull. Our individual strength was just about balanced.

Adrenaline raced through me like a convection current. My judgment blurred into a wild disarray of white hot pain. A shift in the air caused me to see just exactly how serious this was. Just a punishment wasn't to suffice with her. The maniacal expression in her eyes showed that this went through the facade she put up. I'd hit a chord long since buried within her.

I was going to pay dearly; I could see it in her eyes. My heartbeat took off like a hummingbird's wings, and my body went into a phase of itself, I rarely visited. The phase that was concerned with merely survival, and nothing else. Not even future consequences.

She kept shoving on me, pressing harder and harder, clawing at my hands to get the items out of them. She was slowly overpowering me, and she was almost on top of me at the moment.

I wildly searched for something that could help. What caught my eye was a long metal rod, heavy and able to pack a punch from the looks of it. This rod was from one of Mother's broken fashion mannequins. Instinct made my brain quickly conjure up a plan that would have me out of this virtually unscathed, in theory. I could hit her over the head with it. I could do so many things to get my revenge and save myself at the same time; kill two birds with one stone.

I was about to reach for it, with blind fury, when a voice boomed in my head. To my severe shock, it was not my conscience that was nagging me.

Stop, just grab the necklace and get out.

My sightless rage was reined in by an abrupt burst of control, from somewhere I didn't even know existed; a pocket of reserved control and sense in the very back of my brain. An unopened door until now.

The strange voice flushed all traces of fear and uncertainty out of me, and unadulterated self-assurance took its place. I sat up, almost literally feeling a back bone growing, with the necklace firmly in my grasp. I held on so hard, my knuckles started to go numb. I pushed her off me, scrambling to my feet.

"What is this?" I asked, in a tone that was supposed to be intimidating, but it came out with just a stitch of fear. She involuntarily took a step back when she caught on to my tenor. I'd never spoken to her in such a way. She was so used to me being submissive, taking in her words like they were the law, like it was gospel, written in stone.

"What is this?" I repeated, jerking my fist enclosed with the necklace. My voice had raised an octave as nervousness and antagonism electrified every nerve ending in my body.

"That, Isabella, is mine and mine only. You shouldn't have gone snooping through my things. If I weren't your mother, I would say you were a thief!" She spat as coldly as she could muster in the heat of being exposed, to make me falter, make my resolve waver. In fact, it almost did.

"I'm the thief! Then how come the necklace has my name on it?" I asked cornering her. "Mother, you lied to me. For my whole life, you lied to me. You stole from me. This is mine." I let the necklace dangle from in-between my fingers so she would get a clear view. "And I'm taking it back now." I threw the chain over my head and secured it around my neck.

That was a very, very stupid move—but a necessary one.

"Oh no you are not! You give that back to me right now!" She practically snarled, her eyes were crazed as I broke free of my restraints.

"No." I said. Suddenly I felt lighter, as a tremendous, godlike weight had been lifted off my shoulders. "No." I repeated more to myself than to anyone else; bliss lifted me up to a new level of ecstasy every time I uttered that single, powerful, word.

"You do not say no to me!" She boomed, scuttling for leverage.

"No!"

This was the point where my life took a drastic turn.

Mixed with my control slipping, Miss Garratt's epiphany still bright in my heart, Alice's belief that I should keep dangerous thoughts to myself, and the knowledge that I could have a father, I said something so horrible, so terrible for Mother to hear. She did something I never dreamed of her being able to do.

"I say no to you, I say no to everything! Miss Garratt was right! The Wall is evil, pure evil! I will never believe all the lies that have been forced down my throat. All the lies you forced down my throat!" As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted them.

What had I just done? I told myself I would only say that if I was suicidal.

The mysterious voice said only one thing. Run.

It was like setting off a timer on a bomb, it was the worst thing my mother could ever hear. It was the one thing that would set her off even more than finding this drawer. Her eyes began boiling, and she looked as if she could have strangled me right there; her teeth clenched.

"Never speak of such blasphemy!" She grabbed onto the top of my dress, and pulled me to her, with much more strength than I ever thought her capable of. For one split second, my confidence, dissolved, and I was truly afraid. I felt the voice in my head, cajoling me to stay calm, and of course, to run.

Another burst of coolness and control flowed into me like a drink of water after walking through a desert, urging me to get away.

It came to me just in time for her to throw me away from her, sending me sailing through the air. In my vision, I caught sight of the hard, dark wood end of Mothers' bed rushing up to meet my skull.

My head hit the wood with an audible crack; my forehead rebounded off of it as if it were made of rubber. The moment was infinite, time froze, and the crack echoed through my mind, while everything else was silent. It was like I had been thrust underwater, all other sounds were muffled besides the crystal clear crack.

I hit the floor hard, but not hard enough to take my attention away from the searing pain of my head and on my temple. I tried to lift myself off the ground, but vertigo hit me hard, and my hands and knees shook under my own weight.

I took a sharp intake of breath, before trying to move away from her advances. I had to get out of here, confidence and control would do me no good if I was injured (and trust me, there was no 'if' about it). As I stumbled to my feet, feeling the warmth spread through my hair and down my nose, a vision of Alice appeared in my mind. She stood, with her arms crossed, giving me a disapproving look. She uttered four words. "I told you so."

I found myself running, downstairs and away from my personal death sentence.

Stay Awake. Stay Awake. Stay Awake! I chanted to myself like a mantra; I repeated it so many times they didn't even sound like words anymore, just a collection of sounds, I said over and over again.

Impulse drove me to get out. I knew if I stayed to see my punishment, my fate would be far worse than anything my imagination could conjure up. I wouldn't put it past Mother to send me to jail herself, the pure honesty in that thought made me shiver.

Faltering awkwardly out the door and into the busy streets, I focused on the flow of blood continuing to spread through my hair; I was only half aware of the gasps from the others around me, chills of fear chased me, right on my heels. This was the busiest place in the colony, there were Hawks everywhere, and it would only take a few seconds for Mother to explain to them what I'd done. That thought drove me to run harder and faster.

I felt my consciousness slipping as I tripped into an empty alley way; it was wet and slick, a few Crazies sat in the corner, either sleeping or dead. I huffed and puffed, my chest burning, as I drunkenly felt my way around.

Then, I smacked into something. Big. I felt my way across the wall and looked for somewhere—anywhere to hide, to take refuge.

I realized I was at the border. The Wall.

I stared up at the sheer enormity of it. Usually people didn't get too close to The Wall. Hawks didn't patrol it like they used to, but anyone seen lingering by it was typically questioned by Hawks. But there was no one back here to question me. Yet.

Mother's voice came closer and the rims of my visions started going red, then black. I was going to pass out soon, and I couldn't let Mother, or anyone else, have any chance of finding me.

The blackness on the rims of my vision slowly moved inward as a dreamlike feeling started to overtake me.

Stay awake…I whispered, slurred, even in my mind.

I reached the enormous chain-linked fence that was perpendicular to The Wall that restricted any entrance to that section of The Wall. It had 'No Trespassing' written boldly on the front; my hands felt desperately along it, looking for the small opening Alice had made only a few weeks ago.

"I wonder what's back there," She'd said, not really expecting to go there. I supposed she just wanted to prove she could if she wanted to. She had taken some of her mother's hedge clippers and made a hole in the fence; I silently thanked her when my fingers locked around a fissure. I pried it open more until I squeeze myself through it.

As I continued to run, and silently hoped the opening was too small for Mother to fit through easily. Or a Hawk. My heart skipped a beat as something abnormal shone along The Wall.

I saw a small, little opening, hidden behind yellow construction tape. It was a hole—an opening in The Wall. Leading to a world just about every girl my age secretly wondered about.

I didn't think of that though. Or of the cost, or where I would be. I just went for it in my mission to stay alive and out of jail.

I pushed the tape aside and crawled through the opening, letting the tape fall behind me. Before I could see if I had been found or not, the black rims had completely overtaken me, and I fell back into my dream.

I can read your mind, right now.

You: Wow, something's actually happening; geez took her long enough.

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