A Tear Of Insanity

Chapter 2

Lillith

The clouds are grey clumps in the sky, mourning what's to come. Sebastian leaves, as I lace up my boots and put on my father's brown trench coat over my ivory shirt. I touch the leather and think of him. Sharp jaw, prickly grubble, wavy brown hair and honey brown eyes. Beautiful eyes.

He was my teacher for my whole childhood. The one who took me and Leo out to the forest every morning. The one who would spend hours teaching me how to hunt and improve my aim. He made me steal things from his pockets, until I could with my eyes closed. He would show me simple snare tricks and expect me to recreate them. Leo would complete the task on his first try as I would scramble to pick up the pace. He was always better than me. And he was always praised for it.

"What if they take me, Lill?"
I'm pulled out of my trance to look at the crooked plait I braided out of her hair.
"They won't be able to, besides, the Altus don't accept babies."
"Hey!" She laughs.
I muster up a smile and redo her hair, hiding the dread I feel for her.

Unlike her, I'm more thin and pale. My demeanour is the perfect deception of my strength. I play it to my advantage so I don't get picked when we're shoved through the endless lines. She, unlike me, looks alive more than dead, so fear for her is simply growing in me as the seconds go by.

I stand behind her and button the back of her pine, green frock. It's actually mine, so it reaches just below the knees, but it's clothes and in Imus, we have no right to fuss about that. Once we are ready, we pace out the door towards Low Summit, one of the two, tall buildings in our district. It's a hotel full of Scrutators and Altus representatives, indulging in its luxury, that they seem to leave abandoned, for most of the year. The second building, is the Low Office, where our lives are documented into words and examined, to be picked and taken from our very few.

To get to Low Summit, all the various cobbled paths of our district merge into a wide cemented plane, surrounding the perimeters of the two sky scrapers. A distinction of their status. We walk in masses, men, women, children, all deprived, all anticipating the week to come. They were all once beautiful, but beauty is tortured, when there is no reason for it to be portrayed.

Eventually, we stop at the base of the building, taking in its true size. The walls are grey, much like the sky and long rectangular windows are placed in evenly, spaced rows across it's walls, the entire structure threatening our very existence. I bite my lip and feel Leila's hand tighten on my arm. Masking my own emotions, I look down at her in assurance, she responds with a weak smile, turning away from me, to look at the stone dias, a few metres from the building entrance. As we settle, the heavy grey doors of the Summit slowly open. Dozens of armed soldiers march out in unison, lining along the walls.

A horn blares, shattering the silence. A tall middle-aged man struts out and up onto the polished, circular stage. Wrinkles etch his forehead, his eyebrows are creased and a thick, gelled wig of hair, rests on his head. I notice his fine navy suit, tailored of rich linen, it highlights his broad shoulders and cinches at his waist. A true luxury in these parts. He stands at the lectern, clearing his throat and straightening his tie. His lips quirk in a hair-raising smile as he leans towards the microphone.

"I am the Announcer this year, Mr Abraham Monroe but I may be referred to as Sir." He inserts an awkward chuckle, continuing when we do not mirror his amusement. "It has been a year since the beloved Obsequium, the Week Of Obedience." He declares, in a brooding voice.
"Every winter, we follow in our ancestral, nobles footsteps, sacrificing our own freedom for the rightful ones. You are the lucky few, that are given right to sacrifice yourselves, for the greater good. This is your duty as well as ours..."

I'm in mental pain, listening to the lies spilling from this man's mouth, when I feel someone's shoulder against mine. I look to my left to see ruffled, dirty, blonde locks and that knowing smile.
"Seriously Sebastian, why are you near me again?"
He does not look my way when he mutters, "You know why."
I know exactly why, but it's coughed-up lies. He claims that Leo told him to protect me and Leila, before he was 'taken'. But believing that, would mean believing my brother has a heart at all.
"Just leave me alone."
"The feelings are mutual but i promised to protect you, so protect you I shall."
"I'm not a child for God's sake, I can take care of myself and my sister." I practically grunt.
He leans down towards me, with his arms behind his back, an amused smile dancing on his face.
"I don't give a shit about you Stryder, but know this- I never go back on my promises."
I shut up at that and look away in anger. I hate him sometimes. And it's rather irrational since he has always been there for us. But when I look at him another face comes into my mind... one that I don't want to see, ever again.

"Today is the day of feasting" Mr Monroe booms, with an agitating beam on his face. Then all I see is his back disappearing behind the massive entrance doors.