Escape

Scout

2 years before

"Get her!" A baritone voice shouts. Footsteps pound behind me. It sounds as though there's maybe half a dozen running people behind me. I have to keep going. I can't go back. I can't. I've escaped the Society. They captured me, took me from my parents, and brought me to the Society. They tried to brainwash me, but they can't do that to me. I wouldn't conform. I got by barely. My one friend helped me be safe, but she knew it would get us in trouble eventually. It did.

She died for me. Took a bullet for me. I cried for three days, and haven't cried since then. I was twelve when that happened. I'm seventeen now. After that day, I got more rebellious. I have the scars to prove it. The most prominent is the one on my collarbone. They cut me really deep in hopes that would fix it. It never did. And neither did the hundreds of beating I've taken. And now I escaped. I'm never going back. I have nothing to go back to.

BANG!! I dodge to the left. It nicks my ear, and I shove down the scream trying to force itself from my throat. They shot at me. BANG!! BANG!! Two more misses. I have to keep running. Away. Far away. And never be found by them again. Faster, Scout, faster. Don't let yourself be caught. I won't go back. NEVER! And especially not without a fight. "Come back! Please! We'll take care of you. We won't hurt you again." They say, trying to take the nice approach. I keep running, and hope the wind carries my voice to them. They need to hear this.

"You lying bastards! I know you'll beat me for hours if I go with you. I know I could be dead if I go with you again! You killed my parents to take me! You scarred me! I'm never going with you. I'd rather die than go with you sons of bitches again!" I scream, running faster than I thought I ever could.

"That can be arranged." One man shouts back. I can barely hear the reply from the blood leaking into my ear, and my heart beating in my head. Pure adrenaline surges through my veins.

Another BANG! This time it is so close, it makes my ears ring. I actually scream that time. My hands cover my head. Faster Scout!! Run! Get away! You're almost there. "She's headed for the forest! We'll catch her there!" The same baritone man that's been talking shouts. They think they can catch me. Bring me back. Beat me, kill me, in front of everyone, just to prove what happens if you try and escape. That will not happen. I hate every single one of those glorified bastards that took me, tried to make me conform, and for everything they've ever done.

I will destroy every single one of them. I don't care if I die trying. I just don't want to die being taken back, or working for them. I won't. That's why I have to keep running. Keep running from the lies, from the memories, from the scars. A tree smacks my cheek. I call out, clutching the bleeding wound. I keep sprinting, jumping over brush, and fallen logs. Ducking under the branches, the voices get fainter finally. I slow down to a jog, and glance around at my surroundings. I have no idea where I am. "Gotcha!" A voice shouts. A body at least a foot taller than me and weighs one and a half times more than me slams into my body. I grunt at the impact, the wind knocked out of me.

"Got you. Now, you're coming back to the Society. We're going to help you. You'll be back to normal in no time. This happens to all test subjects- I mean teenagers. But you're in good hands." He sweeps my feet from under me, knocking me onto my back. The wind knocks out of me even more, I can not do anything as he pins me down. But I am not going back easy. "Get off me!" I struggle to say.

"You rebellious little thing. You're coming back, and you can't do anything about it. You're dead. Or almost. You know that right?" He chuckles, as though imagining the scene of me being publicly beaten, or shot. That's happened before. I've seen it. It's horrible.

"I'm not going without a fight." I growl, trying to get his hands off my wrists.

"How can you when it doesn't seem like you have one in you?" He laughs again, dark, cold, sinister. I lay limp for a moment, as though defeated.

"I knew you'd give up." He sneers. He takes out the knife at his waist, and aims to swipe at my throat. I jerk my head just in time. It goes into the ground next to me. My eyes flash and my knee launches at him. He groans and lets go of me. I jump up, and snatch the knife at his belt. I take off the sheath, and brandish it at him.

"You think I gave up? There's no way I'm going back to that hellhole." I snarl. Suddenly, his hand darts out, and the knife is back in his hands, and plunges it into my leg. I shriek, knowing no pain worse than that in my leg. "Help!" I scream, though I knew nobody would hear me except the six men surrounding me.

My eyes do not get blurry, despite the pain. I've had worse in my life mentally. "You won't take me alive." I mutter, the pain intensifying, the knife still in my leg. "HELP!!" I shout again, but it's useless. Instead, I just scream bloody murder.

"Nobody can hear you scream, girl." Another man says.

"I don't care! As long as I can scream, and fight, you bastards cannot take me. I'll die here." I snap. Their eyes light up evilly.

"That can be arranged." They say in unison. Chills spin down my backbone.

They've been trained. They've been brainwashed. And they'll do it until they're destroyed. I'll finish that Society, if it's the last thing I do. But I might die right now. I can't die. I just can't. "You think so?" I muse. They nod as one. It's like they're a machine

"Yes. You were disobedient." They say as one.

"Stop it! Don't do that!" I shout, kind of covering my ears again.

"Why? There's nothing wrong. You'll be punished and then reentered back to the Society." They keep saying in unison. I scream in sheer terror, and rip the knife from my leg.

They all pull out their guns, as I sink to my knees, my leg buckling under me. "Stop. You won't take me. Stop. Stop." I mumble under my breath over and over. Another knife buries itself into my leg. Shrieking, my eyes finally start getting blurry with the pain. I won't cry, not even in my final moments. Livvy wouldn't have wanted that. "HELP!" I shout one last time. I slump against a fallen log, defeated, unable to go on. The pain is too strong, and the inevitable is apparent. Six against one. Six brainwashed armed men, against one seventeen year old who escaped with nothing but her clothes that aren't even hers.

I screw my eyes shut, ready for the inevitable pain, the inevitable darkness, the inevitable death. And nothing comes. Instead, I peek my eyes open to see all six men, dead, with bullet wounds in their chests. I glance up at the shadow blocking out the afternoon sun from my eyes. The figure turns around, and kneels next to me. "What's your name?" He asks. I looked up into the deep, oceanic blue eyes.

"Scout. You?" I ask, barely able to whisper. However he doesn't respond. At least, not with his name.

"You escaped. I must admit that's impressive from the looks of you." I glare at him back. His raven black hair seems to absorb the light.

"Are you going to help me or not?" I croak, trying to be tougher than I am right now.

"Yes. Let's go and get you patched up. Can you stay conscious?" He questions, scooping me up, careful not to make me bleed more than I already am.

"I can't.... Thank you." I trail off, unable to keep my eyes open.

"Don't mention it. Let's just worry about that leg of yours... it seems to be bleeding. Kind of a lot." He states sarcastically again. I snort in annoyance just slightly and glare once more before falling into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

And it's been that way since then. Since that day two years ago, he's kept me safe as an older brother, granted an almost overprotecting, yet extremely aloof and annoying brother. Two others have come to him, and he has refused. So why me?

Why would he save me and not help anyone else?