Radioactive

Chapter One

Fifteen Years Later

I sit on my tiny uncomfortable bed in my cell. After the nuclear war ninety-seven years ago, they say that Earth is still unlivable for humans. What would cause people to destroy the only planet that they had and force anyone who could to escape the coldness of space? I have only been able to dream about what the Ground would look like. My cellmates have described pictures that they've seen from before the bombs dropped, and Earth sounds absolutely beautiful.

"Happy birthday, Carter." I look over at my current cellmate, Matthew, as he walks across the whole five feet that separate our two beds. Matthew has been my cellmate for the past three years, and we have grown extremely close. Which is weird considering that I barely talk to anyone. I smile at him. "Happy birthday, Mat." The small smile that Matthew had, quickly fell off of his face, and any happiness that shown in his dark blue eyes was gone. He sits down at the foot of my bed as I cringe away from him. He sighs as he scoots further down. "I'm sorry." I say, drawing my knees to my chest and hugging them to myself. He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it." He says, running a hand through his dark, brown hair.

Here on the Ark, any crime, little or not, is punishable by death. They kill you by putting you in an airlock and blasting you out into space. The only way out of it is if you're under the age of eighteen, then you wind up here in the skybox until your eighteenth birthday when they give you a trial to decide whether or not your past crime should still get you floated. That day is today for Matthew.

I lean over and hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder, the human contact still feeling weird and new to me. Being locked up in solitary for eleven years can do that to a person. "It's gonna be okay." I say, trying to sound reassuring, but probably sucking majorly. He turns to me and looks at me a second. He then pulls me slowly into a hug. I tense up as thousands of nerves send the message to my brain that there is someone actually touching me. What do I do? Do I hug him back? I slowly bring my arms around and squeeze ever so slightly. This is my first hug. This is the closest I have ever been to another person, and I am somehow not having a panic attack. This is progress.

He sighs and pulls away. "Remember Carter, you can't make promises that you can't keep." He smiled sadly at me.

The door to our cell opens. "Matthew James." A guard says, walking in. "It's time for your trial." We both stand up from the bed. I grab onto Matthew's arm as the guard advances towards us. "No, please. Don't take him away from me!" I yell, tears streaming down my face. Matthew grabs onto my shoulders and looks down at me. "Carter listen to me. No matter what runs through that pretty little head of yours, you are not worthless." I stare up at him in shock. "I've heard you in the night, Carter. It breaks my heart that you think that of yourself." He hugs me again. "You are loved Carter." He whispers in my ear. "By who?" I ask, speaking around the lump in my throat. He pulls away and looks me in the eyes. Dark browns meeting dark blues. "Me." My eyes widen as he kisses me on the cheek and then walks out to the guard, leaving our cell and my life forever.

A feeling creeps up into my stomach that makes me feel like I'm about to throw up. "I love you too." I whisper to the now shut door. "I love you too." I say a little bit louder. I repeat it and repeat it until I'm screaming it at the top of my lungs. I begin punching the wall in the cell after each word. "I-love-you-dammit-why-did-you-have-to-leave-me-alone-again!" My hand left blood stains on the wall as my knuckles split open. After what feels like hours of screaming and punching, I finally cradle my damaged hand to my chest and fall to my knees and sob. I cry for Matthew as he walks to his inevitable death. I cry because I've lost the only person that I have ever really talked to. I cry because I've lost the only person to ever love me. But mostly, I cry because my life has been nothing but a living hell of staring at gray, metal walls for fifteen years. I cry because I absolutely hate my life.