Claire

PROLOGUE

A golden ray illuminates my cell, the only light in my otherwise dark world. Its stone walls are just as gloomy as always. My bed, a mat on the floor and a tiny blanket. Its spring now, so at least the cold nights are over. The rags that hang from my body do little to bring me comfort. A long robe, its faded grey color matches my surroundings. I hear the lock unlatch and a guard motions me out. He is dressed in a navy-blue uniform. His tanned skin a stark contrast to mine, pale from lack of sunshine. The dark grey halls seem like an endless maze, torches light the way. He leads me and the others that fill the cells beside me to a large hall. This is where we get our food if you can call it that. Potato soup and a slice of bread is all they ever serve. Too afraid we may revolt; they keep us weak and frail. My body appears as it is wasting away. The only curves are those from my bones sticking out beneath my skin. My cheeks are sunken in, a skeleton of my once full features. I grab my bowl silently and walk to one of the tables. We are not permitted to talk to one another, so the vast hall is silent. Guards stand at the entrance and exits. Their hateful glares burn through me. I have spent what feels like my whole life here. Never permitted to leave. When I was still just a baby, my mother, among others from the lower class revolted against those in power. They wished to overthrow the rich and the hagiarchy they have created. However, they lost and only served to increase our suffering.

My mother was gravely injured and returned to me on the verge of death. She held me as the life drained from her body and handed me a locket in her last moments. A golden locket in the shape of a heart. I cried as I held my mother’s lifeless body against mine, unsure what to do. That is when the guards found me. I wailed as they ripped my mother from my grasp. I tried to fight; not sure what fate awaited me, but at only 5, I was no match for them. One of the guards smacked me across the room, my face split open by the stone wall and everything went dark.

I woke up in the cell, my head throbbing in pain, blood stained the blanket. My locket gone. “Round them up” someone roared beyond the cell door. 3 guards entered my cell. They ripped my clothes from my tiny body and threw a grey robe at me. “Put it on.” They ordered me. Dizzy from the blow to my head I fumbled to do as they ordered. Once dressed they shoved me out of the door into the large hall we eat at now. There we were all gathered, waiting. A man entered, addressing all of us. “Since you have decided that the life, I provide for you is not good enough and choose to revolt, this will be your new home. “He bellowed angrily. “You and all your children will die here so that we may protect our way of life.” “You are all worthless garbage, your genes a disgrace to our perfect society and so you will rot here.” “Any actions against this will mean immediate death.” “Your ignorance will not be an excuse to end your duty to provide from our society.” “You will work mining these caves below us to provide those of us who deserve it with needed supplies until the day you all die here.” The guards began to force us all towards a hallway. Children like me are crying out for their mothers, but the guards do not care, beating them with batons till they follow orders. We all file into the hallway one at a time. I hear cries of agony from ahead of me. The dread in my stomach rises to my throat. What terrible thing awaits me at the end of this hallway? As I reach closer, I see those ahead of me being pushed into a room. The look of horror on their faces will forever be ingrained in my mind. Those leaving the room stumble out some being carried by others. All of them clutching their shoulders, shaking, anguish on their faces. As my turn nears my feet no longer want to move. The guards push me forward. When I enter the room a fire burns in the middle, a man stands with a cattle brand in his hand, red hot from the flames. The guard pushes me to my knees and rips my robe back, exposing my tiny shoulder. With a look of glee, the man shoves my face to the ground, stomps his boot on my back holding me down and presses the hot brand to my back. The smell of my burning flesh reaches my nostrils. A horrid smell. The pain sears through my body and everything goes black.

I awaken back in my cell. The pain still overwhelms me. I cry as do the others in the cells beside me. Sleep overtakes me and I drift off. The middle of the night I am awakened. A young guard, appearing not much older than myself, opens the door to my cell. I cower in the corner afraid of what he plans to do to me. He puts his finger to his lips to silence me. I recognize him from the group that found me with my mother. From his pocket he pulls the locket, hands it to me gently brushing my cheek where I hit my face earlier, then turns and leaves without a single word. I clutch the locket close to my heart as tears fill my eyes. In the gently moonlight I see my mothers blood dried on the clasp. I try to open the locket but it wont budge. I wrap it around my palm and drift back to sleep.

That was 12 year ago, I am 17 now. Life has been a horrible curse, but my mother’s locket still brings me comfort. We are not permitted to have personal effects, so I hide the locket every day in a small crack in the stone walls. Though I will never know why he showed me such kindness, I will forever be thankful. I have not seen him since. From the stories I have heard in hushed whispers while we worked, the world outside is a beautiful and vibrant place, for those lucky enough to be born to the upper class or find favor among those in power. Our genes are inferior, no good for anything except laboring for those in power. Treated as slaves now, though we were not much better off before. I remember sleeping in makeshift tents with my mother and being strapped to her back while she worked long hours in the field. Our dinners consisted of scraps left over and discarded by the wealthy. Sometimes my mother would not eat because there was not enough. She always told me I needed it more. A wonderful, kind women. How I miss her gentle kisses on my forehead as she tucked me in every night.

I remember once while my mother was working, wondering off as young children do, curious of my surroundings. I climbed a tree and saw far past the field my mother labored in all day. A beach with beautiful white sand lay beyond a large stone wall that encircled the place I had come to call home. Many people lounged about on chairs in clothes of vibrant colors. How I longed to join them, confused as to why we had never seen this beach. Large houses surrounded the beach and people walked about freely. A huge building stood out amongst the houses, surrounded by guards. “Claire, come down from there honey” My mothers voice drifted from beneath me. I climbed down the tree to inquire from my mother about the many delights I had seen beyond the wall, but she simply hushed my words and told me not to speak of it ever again. As dusk fell that night back in our tent, my mother tucked me in as she always did but tonight, was different. Instead of snuggling up next to me as she always did, she told me she loved me and that she would be back later. “Do not leave your bed my sweet child” she instructed me. “I will be back before dawn.” Then she disappeared into the night. Forever changing my way of life.

I am told my mother was part of the rebellion to overtake the wealthy class for keeping us living in our misery. The rebellion failed, the lower class was simply to weak and ill equipped to take on the masses of guards at the president’s house. Many died and the rest of us were thrown into this stone prison. Branded as traitors to live out our lives in darkness. Punishment for our unruly ways. Now we work in the mines instead of the fields and we sleep in cells alone, instead of tents with our family. My nights are lonely and dark. My days are filled with endless mining and silence. Nothing but stone for my eyes to see. Talking is prohibited, so we must do it in secret.

Chapter 1

Today I am mining copper for their electric lines. A group consisting of myself and 5 of the males from my unit is tasked with collecting as much copper ore as we can. If we fail to reach our requirements there will be strict punishment. Our punishments vary depending on the guards sent to oversee us that day. Some are understanding but most are vile humans with a taste for torture. The guards today are new to me, and I do not wish to test which category they fall into. I work silently as I do not know most of the men around me and over the years in this prison, I have come to know the cruelty of men has no bounds. As a young frail woman my position is dangerous, to say the least. Even to my own people I am nothing but property to be taken as they please. Used for their carnal pleasure and discarded. I have been lucky enough to avoid the men from my unit as well as the guards so far and I pray that my luck continues. Amanda who resides a few cells down, a few years older than me, even malnourished, her body is that of a woman already. Many nights I have heard her pleas. Begging them to stop as they ravaged her. My own body still mirrors that of a child. My small breasts have just started to form. I have dreaded this day for a long time. What a shame it is to be a woman in here. The guards, so cruel, overcome by unchecked temptations. No one to stop them because no one cares. I have heard stories of women who have been taken by the guards and fell pregnant. They were executed, reproduction of our genes is forbidden. We are undesired, dirty, something to be discarded. The guards watch us closely as we work. I feel their eyes burning into my soul.

The alarm chimes for lunch. I let the men in my unit leave first not wanting to draw attention to myself. The guard at the door blocks my path. “What an ugly scar that is” he announces, “A shame to ruin such a pretty face.” he reaches for my face, and I stumble back. Suddenly he grabs my throat and slams me against the wall. “Let me see what you’re hiding under here” he proclaims as he lifts my robe, exposing my bare body beneath. “Not much there to hide”. “You must still be a child” he mocks as he cups my breast in his hand. I gasp. Unable to breath as his hand crushes my throat. Unable to fight as he slides his hand down my slender frame, between my legs. His filthy hands threatening to take my innocence. “Please, no”. I stutter out between ragged breaths. My world going dark as my brain begins to shut down from lack of oxygen.

Suddenly the hand is gone from my throat, and I fall to the ground. Gasping for air as my vision is regained. An old woman stands over the guard a stone in her hand her ragged breaths sound labored. “Run, young child” she exclaims. “Don’t let anyone see you here.” I sprint out the cave a down the hallway, doing as I am told, too afraid to look back. As I turn the next corner, I see a guard and slow down, not wanting to draw attention to myself. “Get in here” he orders as he shoves me into the large hall with everyone else. I grab my food and try to calm myself. Afraid of what will happen to me once they find out. All is calm though and I do not see the old woman. Where might she be?

Suddenly an alarm goes off and my heart skips a beat. My breath caught in my throat. The guards start rounding us up forcing us out of the room. I try to look back to see what is going on, but a guard hits me hard across the face, knocking me to the ground. Ouch, my lip already begins to swell as blood drips onto the stone beneath me. A crimson red against the dark stone. It sparkles in the dim light. “Move it”. He bellows as he swiftly kicks my side. I cough from the blow as I stumble to my feet. Another shove from the guard and I almost lose my balance again. As I reach the doorway I glance back again. The old women are there being dragged by the guards. Her eye is bleeding and swollen. In a swift motion one of the guards brings the baton down smack into the side of her head. The sounds cascade throughout the stone halls. Her body goes limp. The guard shoves me once again and I can no longer see the old woman. Back in my cell the silence is daunting. Will they come for me? What will they do to me? Surly the punishment would be worse than anything he could have done to me. Why did the old woman risk herself for me? I should have let him take me. Tears roll down my cheeks.

A voice echoes through the speakers. “All inmates will report to the mess hall” “Any resistance will be swiftly dealt with.” The door to my cell swings open. A feeling of dread overcomes me. As we reenter the mess hall towards the back of the room the old woman sits strapped to a chair. Her arms and legs bound. She does not appear to be fully her. Her eyes are glazed over and her head swings limply against her body. What have I done? We are all instructed to take a seat. As I glare upon the old women my heart yearns to end her suffering. This is all my fault. If I had not been so weak it would be me on that chair, not her. Silence fills the room. The president walks on the stage, dressed in an elegant suit. His beard trimmed neat against his face. A man follows him. His face seems familiar but, like a distant memory, his identity eludes me. The president approaches the old woman. “This woman has committed a crime,” he announces, “She killed one of my guards and will pay with her life.” In a swift motion he slices a blade across her throat. Blood spills down her grey robe and puddles on the floor. Gasps from the crowd overtake the silence. My breath catches in my throat. The man beside the president stares at me with an inquisitive look. I advert my eyes as tears roll down my cheek. How could I just leave her there? Why am I so weak?

We are forced to return to work. I can barely move to complete my work. The blood from the guard still glistens on the floor. My stomach turns as I try to remain busy. They must have found her with the guard dead at her feet. She paid the ultimate price for my ignorance, my fear. Tears well in my eyes. Will this world of pain ever end? Why does my genes dictate me to a life of suffering? I wonder what life is like outside. Remembering the beach I saw as a child, the colorful clothes, the life that could never be my own.

The bell chimes signaling the end of the day. Supper and then back to my cell. As I lay in the silence my minds wonders. The poor old woman, my mother, all those that have died. They were so strong, their courage something I covet. I hold my mother’s locket close to my chest. My heart aches longing for her comfort.

Past midnight, its dark in my cell. Sleep evades me. The sound of the lock opening pulls me from my thoughts. The man from earlier, who stood beside the president, enters my cell. This is it; I know my life will be over soon. At least the suffering will end. He lifts me into his arms so gently. I do not try to fight. What is the point? I deserve this. “Do you have your locket?” he whispers into my ear. Shocked I finally face the man who holds me in his arms. Confused I show him the locket wrapped around my frail hand. “Take it,” I respond, “I am a disgrace to her memory anyways.” “A coward, to weak to fight.” As I look into his eyes, he brushes my cheek, a gentle gesture I have not known for years. Suddenly my memory is not so distant. The man before me is the same guard who gave me my mothers locket so long ago. I recognize his gentle handsome features though he has grown since then.

“Come” he interjects my thoughts. “Be silent, do as I say.” He drops me to my feet once more, locking shackles around my wrists. I freeze, but he reassures me with his gentle gaze. I follow as he requests. We pass many guards who snicker. As we approach the gates the guards stop the young man. “What business do you have with this woman Tom?” The guard inquires. “Such a lowly lady for a man of your stature?” “Never mind my business, Rick.” He retorts, an air of authority in his voice. “I will be taking my bounty and be on my way.” “You will not speak of this to anyone, or I will have your head served to your wife on a platter.” His tone scares me. I stumble back, but he pulls my shackles forward. “Come young child.” He bellows. “Do not resist.” The guard opens the gate, and we walk out of the prison. I feel a breeze against my face for the first time in 12 years. It feels amazing. I stop perplexed by the feel of it.

Tom stops. He releases the shackles and rubs my wrists gently. “Are you ok?” he inquires, “I am sorry if I was a bit rough, had to play the part.” He shrugs uncomfortably. “Who are you?” I ask, “Why have you helped me?” “My name is Thomas Richardson,” he replies. “I am the president’s son.” I stumble back as I turn to run away. He catches me gently. “Do not run, I am not here to hurt you. “He reassures me. “Why would I have removed the cuffs if my intention was to hurt you?” “I have come to set you free so you can aid me and the other individuals who wish to see my father’s reign of tyranny end.” He begins, “Your mother attempted to take my father down so many years ago and it ended badly, but she did not have an inside man as we do now.” “With the intel I have collected and my proximity to the target we hope to succeed this time.” “I have been chosen to lead the insurgence by friends of your mothers. ““They have requested I free you before we begin.” “We have built many resources over the last few years and have formulated a plan, but a key part of this plan lies with you.” “Inside that locket is a key to setting everything straight and fixing our society for the better.” I grab the locket firmly in my grasp. “But It doesn’t open,” I respond. “I have tried many times and failed.” “Do not worry” He responds,” We will find a way.” “We must get going now as we have a long trek ahead of us.”

Our journey takes three days across the wilderness and the handsome stranger is mostly silent. It is a rough trip for someone as frail as me, but I manage to make it. Upon arriving to the village, I am greeted by many with whom I do not know. They all know me and congratulate me on my escape and for my mother’s courage. With all these people so excited for me to be here it is overwhelming. I am nothing but a child and my courage is no match for my mothers. What a strong woman she was. Always stood up for herself and others. It got her into trouble at times, but she was more respected for it. How I wish I could be like her. My fear holds me back.

The others from the village took my mothers locket and pried it open to retrieve a small cube. Unfamiliar to me, I inquire about its purpose. I am told it is a recording device that holds information about the president. Tom returns the locket to me. It is a little bent but mostly in good shape. My mother’s blood still stains the clasps. I begin to cry. He swiftly guides me out of the small building and into the dark night that surrounds it. Pitch black with only the moon slightly illuminating his features. His jaw line stands out amongst the darkness. I cannot help but focus on it as he begins to speak. “What’s wrong?” He inquires. “Are you alright?” “We tried to be as gentle with it as we could.” He continues, “I am sorry that we broke it.” I begin to sob more, and I cannot speak as my throat swells with sadness. Suddenly big arms surround me in warmth. Tom has hugged me. I sob harder as he escorts me to my tent. Overwhelmed with emotions I still cannot speak. He gently lifts me from my feet and places me in my bed. “Let us talk in the morning.” He whispers,” I can see you are quite upset, get some rest.” Then in a flash, he is gone. As the blankets encircle me, I sleep deeper then I have in 12 years.

The light of the sunrise shining through my tent awakens me. My eyes struggle to adjust from years of darkness. Even in my tent the light overwhelms me. I hear toms voice from beyond the walls of my tent. “May I enter?” He inquires. “Are you decent?” In a haze from the light I roughly respond, “Yes.” He enters with a smile on his face and hands me some glasses. “Put these on.” He giggles. I do as I am told and suddenly the tent in cast in darkness. “These are sunglasses.”. My eyes adjust to the tinted lenses, and I can finally open my eyes. Tom stands just inches from my face with a smile on his lips. “Is that better?” he inquires “Others who have escaped the prison had difficulty adjusting to the sunlight as well.” “Just keep them on for a few days so your eyes will adjust.” Suddenly a frown interrupts his gentle grin. “Are you feeling better this morning?” he asks. “I am sorry about the damage to your mother’s locket.” “I know it must mean a lot to you.” My gaze drops to the bed as I remember all my emotions last night. Embarrassed my cheeks flush.