“Escort these two to the room across from mine,” I heard Atticus order. “Stay with them until I get there.”
Another soldier stepped forward in front of me; he was of average height and average build with boring, average brown hair and an average-looking face, though set within it was a pair of the brightest, greenest eyes I had ever seen.
“Yes, sir.” The green-eyed soldier nodded once and reached for me.
“I’m begging you!” I cried, my voice becoming hoarse. “I can’t leave my sister! She’s not well! P-P-Pleeeeassse!”
The green-eyed soldier took hold of the rope. Letting all of my weight drop, I fell to the concrete again, scraping both knees on my way down, and I refused to budge. With my knees bent beneath me, my back arched and my arms laid out across the concrete above my head, I sobbed; the heat from the sidewalk warmed my face as my cheek lay pressed against it. I could see the bright, cloudless blue sky above me, and it was all I wanted to look at.
“Just get up,” I heard a soft voice say.
I felt a hand on my upper arm, but it was not the powerful, rough hand of a man. Reluctantly letting the blue sky go, I let the girl’s face come into focus. It was the blonde-haired girl hunkered over my body; her long hair draped both shoulders.
“You have to get up,” she repeated in a quiet voice. “If you don’t cooperate they’ll use your sister against you—you have to get up.” She tugged on my arm.
It was all the convincing I needed—I struggled to get to my feet, every bone and muscle in my body fighting against my movements. The green-eyed soldier stood next to us, waiting, and finally when my body was in motion again, we left the few remaining citizens desperate for supplies, and the vile soldiers, and the man named Marion who brought us here. And as we crossed the street and stepped onto another sidewalk, I could hear the Overseer’s voice as he spoke to the people, and his words faded on the air as I got farther away.
The green-eyed soldier walked us to the entrance of a building, escorted us inside and to the stairs. He never spoke. He never looked at us. He was as quiet and unemotional as he was ordinary.
By the third floor, I could barely walk; the long three-day trip to the city, combined with my wounded feet, was taking its toll on me.
Another floor and I had to rest.
I sat on a concrete step, out of breath, lightheaded. The green-eyed soldier, to my surprise, stopped without argument and let me have my moment.
The blonde girl sat beside me in the dark; the only source of light was from candles placed on the steps; some were burning down, their tiny wicks suffocated by their own wax.
“The sooner you accept it,” the girl said, her voice a whisper in the confined stairwell, “the sooner the pain will pass.”
I did not respond. I felt like Sosie in that moment: broken.
Seconds later, the soldier tugged on the ropes.
We made it to the eighth floor and he pushed open a door to reveal a spacious room where light spilled in from a tall window.
I lifted my eyes to take in the room with purpose, searching for anything I might use to escape. But there was nothing, just a twin-size mattress barely big enough for two girls to sleep on together. And the only way out of the room was through the door we’d just entered, or the window overlooking the city eight floors down.
I looked back at the green-eyed soldier.
“What’s going to happen to my sister?” I asked him.
His boots tapped lightly against the tile as he went toward the mattress. Leaning over, he lifted it with both hands and beat on the center to knock the dust from it. Then he set it down and pushed it back into place against the wall with the toe of his boot.
“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing.
Reluctantly, I walked over and sat down; the other girl followed. The soldier went toward the closed door and stood next to it where I knew he would stay until that horrible Overseer named Atticus would come for us. And in what felt like an hour of waiting in silence, I made up my mind to beg the Overseer to listen. I would do anything, even give myself to him, if he would let me be with Sosie again.
There was a knock at the door and the soldier opened it a crack. I heard whispers but not words and then the soldier went out into the hall. Shadows moved beneath the crack underneath the door.
“Listen to me—what’s your name?”
“Thais.”
The girl laid her bound hands on my thigh; her eyes were filled with concern and urgency; although as young as me, she had a motherly way about her and it instantly put me more at ease.
“I’m Petra,” she introduced. “Now listen to me—I know it’s hard for you to understand, and what I’m about to tell you will seem like the worst thing I could ever say, but it’s also the truest thing I could ever say.”
I turned fully to face her.
Petra’s eyes were cat-like and ice-blue, her mouth was dirty as if she’d drank from a mud hole before she came here, but she had pretty pouty lips underneath all the filth, and a tender face framed by cottony blonde hair. She reminded me of Sosie.
“If you fight them,” she began, “you’re going to draw the wrong kind of attention. Just give in to them, give them what they want and they’ll lose interest in you faster. They’ll have their way with you, but if you pretend to like it, they’ll lose interest sooner.” She spoke as if she knew these things from experience.
My chin dropped, and I looked at my hands still bound by the rope that had rubbed my skin raw around my wrists.
“I can’t do that,” I whispered. “I could never do that—I will die first.”
“You would do it for your sister,” Petra said, and it stung me because it was true.
I raised my puffy, burning eyes and looked at Petra, heartbroken.
“For her, I would do it,” I said. “But something tells me that no matter what I do, or what Sosie does, or if God Himself came down from the heavens and said to those men: ‘Do not touch Sosie Fenwick lest you burn in Hell’, they’re still going to hurt her.” I made a choking noise as more tears rushed to the surface.
“There is no God,” Petra said. “But you’re right about everything else—they will have their way with your sister, and there’s nothing either of you can do but accept it.”
The door came open again and the green-eyed soldier re-entered the room, taking his position same as before.
I felt the mattress move as Petra stood up beside me. I kept my head low, but watched Petra as she walked across the tile on bare feet; the end of the rope that bound her wrists slithered across the floor beside her.
“Go sit down,” the soldier said in a calm, seemingly uninterested voice.
But Petra stepped right up to the soldier and raised her hands to the side of his face, the back of her fingers trailed down his smooth cheeks. For a moment, the soldier did not object, but then his arms came up and he grabbed hold of her wrists and pushed her hands against her chest.
“I said go sit down,” he demanded.