I am going to runaway.
The risk is immense, the danger unbelievable, the punishment unspeakable if ever I am caught. But I have to do it. Not just for the legacy of Tyson, but for my well being. Every day I spend as part of the future army of Sonora, I feel physically sick. I hate my life here. I do not want to spend my life in servitude to the government. And even if I were not a soldier, that would be the case. I will always belong to the government. Running away is my only option for the true freedom I sought.
I have to do it tonight. Tomorrow, September first, is the day I am to permanently join the army, since I passed the Test two weeks before.
Tonight is my final chance to save ...view middle of the document...
I do not think I have cried since my seventh birthday.
Because soldiers do not cry.
At the thought of tears, I am reminded of the day before I turned seven, nine years, two months ago. It was the day I learned what was to happen on my seventh birthday.
On that day, General Tate came to Peeks himself to deliver the news. After he left, my parents tried to comfort me. Both soldiers themselves, though, they were not good at it. They had forgotten what sadness felt like. Though I have not seen them since the day that followed, my seventh birthday, I love them. Unlike them, I remember what that feels like.
While my parents attempted to comfort me, for the first time, I truly understood what it meant to be born to a military family. You see, in my nation, Sonora, what you do with your life is determined by what your parents did in their lives. If your parents are doctors, you are trained your whole life to become doctor. If your parents are bakers, then so are you. In my case, if your parents are soldiers, then so are you.
Your spouse is also decided this way. You can only marry someone born the same year as you, who is in the same career field, with the same family letter.
When I calmed down, my parents tried to cheer me up. They told me that my chest will only hurt for a few days, and after that, as long as I followed instructions, there is nothing to worry about.
And I believed them. I really thought the pain would end after that.
It did not.
After Reuben was born, I was not happy. All I can think of is an adorable baby, who would one day grow to be a mean guard, or general, who would not love. That is what I would be now, had it not been for meeting Tyson my first day at the Encampment. Without him, I would be sent to fight a war I knew nothing about.
I look at the wall clock, and it seems time could not have gone faster. It reads 23:58. In two minutes a guard will walk past the door to my shared room, and immediately after I will have to make my swift exit. My heart pounding, I sit up as I wait for the guard to creep past.
During those two minutes, I think of Tyson. The bright blue of his eyes, the dark curls in his required, buzzed short hair, the soft curve of his mouth when he tried not to laugh.
Sadly, I am pulled out of my reverie by quiet footsteps approaching the door.
I sit completely still, my long blonde hair not even moving in the slight breeze coming through the cracked window. It is unusually hot for mid September, and the air conditioning is broken, so we are permitted to have the windows open.
That is crucial.
My heart races in my chest as the guard gets closer, and I will it to slow down, for I have an unreasonable fear of the Detector going off.
When he reaches the door, the clock reads 00:00, and he pauses for the briefest of moments, as he does every night, and then moves on. After thirty seconds and I can no longer hear his footsteps, I stand up.
I leave all my things in the drawer beneath my bed. The only...