Twenty

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The Outer Cities was definitely not what I had expected-maybe it was due to the constant exposure to the luxurious life in the Inner Cities, or the fact that I wasn't as enthusiastic about the ancient times as Chance was. Tall flats were lined up around the perimeter of a carpark where we landed, the rough asphalt scratching the base of the pod and making it squeal as it lands.

After exchanging what feels like a million goodbyes, we finally get off the pod and onto land. Almost immediately, a grin spreads over Chance's face, and I know it's because of the new-yet-familiar environment. Chance has practically been reading about these type of places his whole life. I'm pretty sure there's a "skateboard" around here somewhere. From the look on Chance's face, I know he's thinking the same thing too.

Then we hear someone shout, "She's over there!" Followed by the sound of footsteps. Chance pulls me back against a wall, and the footsteps gradually slow down. Why isn't that person running?

"Mind control," Xavier murmurs, as if reading my thoughts, his arms wrapped around Dakota, whose face is serious and concentrated.

They have mind control?

"They twist your thoughts," Xavier adds, shaking his head. "It's never a good experience."

Dakota sends him a weak smile, and wild thoughts run through my head. I push them away, focusing on the event happening around the corner.

"Stop!" A girl screams, her voice shrill and piercing.

A few seconds later, the same sound with less conviction reverberates across the car park once again, and my heart pangs in my chest, fighting the urge to run over to her and take her away from Edit's cruel, menacing hands.

Chance wraps his arm around my waist, holding me back.

"We've got one tough girl here," someone mutters, loud enough that we can hear.

"Who are they and what are they trying to do to her?" I doubt normal civilians would take bullying to such an extreme.

"That's Edit," Xavier replies hesitantly, and Dakota whimpers softly, pressing harder into Xavier's embrace, biting her lip and shutting her eyes. Xavier gently strokes her arm with his thumb, and says, "they're trying to take her to the camp, but she's resisting them."

She's fighting Edit. That means there are people out there who hate Edit as much as we do, and they are willing to fight against them.

"You want us to drop you? Okay," one of the people working for Edit says, a hint of mockery in his voice. The girl, her legs bloodied and bruised, her auburn hair slick with sweat lands on the ground, tears falling from her eyes. It seems like Edit wants to torture her over and over until she really is broken before taking her away.

But then the girl starts to crawl. Using her forearms she slowly drags herself across the carpark, her skin scraping against the rough asphalt, and my heart breaks for her. Yet again, I almost break out of Chance's grip and run towards the poor limp girl, my heart burning and crackling with anger and defiance and hatred, but Xavier sends me a warning glare-he knows if I do it all of us will have to appear, and that'll put Dakota in risk. I almost roll my eyes at that, but hold back. The sarcasm will have to control itself for a while.

The girl's arms start to bleed, the blood dripping onto the floor, staining it a dark red. She stops for a while, and we can all hear the people from Edit laugh from behind her, calling her names like "weak", "pathetic" and "loser". Gritting her teeth with hope burning in every inch of her body, the girl begins again, pulling herself forward despite the wounds on her arms. Her pauses are more frequent now, and I can't help but notice that there are many white scars that reflect the sunlight criss-crossing her arms.

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