Chapter 8 - by Sugar Faerie
Celeste
You know, we don't
really know that much about these people. We know that they're
rebels, Bohemians, enemies to everything we stand for.
We. Globalsoft. Globalsoft Secret Police. Current occupation of Celeste Camden, highschool tech genius.
Funny how the world goes, sometimes.
I walk down the corridor, doing my patrol, watching the rebels through the glass. Some are looking at me with hate, others with fear, and some aren't looking at me at all. Some have faces covered in blood, others are contorted in pain.
The boys have been down this corridor. I can see that just by looking in the next cell. There are two women in there, both a bit younger than me. One's got blood crusted on her cheek and neck, even clumping in her wild hair. She's supporting a smaller woman, who's got blood smeared on her bare thighs and staining her torn stockings.
They're pretty. Too pretty. No wonder the boys had 'fun' with them.
They don't know anything about them. I don't know anything about them. We don't know what these two women's motives are, what they think of us, if they have friends, lovers, possibly even children. We don't even know their names.
We don't know anything about the girl in the cell across from them, looking like a demented child's plaything in a ripped tutu. We don't know anything about the people next to her, either.
I continue my walk down the corridor, staring straight ahead. It's no use wondering about who these people are. Most of them will die anyway.
The last cell has a dangerous looking woman in black PVC pacing the room. Something's familiar about her...
A few of my collegues are dragging one of the women from the first cell down the hall, the one in the red pants. They push her into the same cell as the woman in the PVC, and I see her rush to pull the newcomer into an embrace. The blood covered girl is sobbing onto the other's shoulder, and anyone could see they're more than friends.
The black-clad rebel turns her head slightly, and for the first time I see her face on.
Oh my god. She lived next door to me. I thought she died, but here she is, a rebel holding another rebel while she cries her heart out.
And now I know why we're told nothing about these people.
Because it's so much easier to hate people you know nothing about.