The Vigilante: DISCONTINUED

Two

Infuriated the whole way, the snow below her feet turned a dirty brown. Her face had turned red partly from the anger, and but mostly from frost bite. She sat down on a log near the school, she would go inside, but that would require her to go straight to class. The old school building was called западе способ средней школе, or west way high school. All americans go there and the occasional russian delinquent, or those against the government. It used to be one of the best school’s in the state, but after the century war, the school was vandalised and tampered with.

Lux couldn’t figure out why they took their sweet ol’ time to destroy the schools and turn into a slave camp. All they ever did was learn russian ways, and those who were russian learned english. Americans learning, speaking or communicating russian anyway is strictly forbidden under law 96, sub-section c. And yes, Lux thought, they do make you memorize the laws. Which was asinine due to the courts just throwing out cases without giving us a fair trial to even fight against; hell, she said to herself, they don’t even give you a trial, just a bullet to you stomach to make you suffer the pain.

The bell rang behind her signaling that if you weren’t in class, you better be now. Lux didn’t care though, if it were up to her, she would never even make the effort to walk to school; but she had to for the sake of her indolent mother and deaf older brother. She got up from her log, now realizing she was freezing cold and her pale fingers were becoming numb. She hurried to the school through a back door and ran to World History. She utterly hated that class for all they would learn is America’s greatest failures. From the Kansas-Nebraska act to Vietnam, and Andrew Johnson. They critiqued their ancestors and just basically told them how awful they were.

Like they were some God, heaven sent angels and came for the better. Our dollar bills are worth ten dollars less than Mexicos now; if they were ever to get out of this, America would be wrecked. Despite this, they always have the occasional rebel looking for trouble, interrupting the teacher or going off, once a boy was killed for his wrong act. He had his vocal cord chopped out, but which while in procedure they accidentally cut too big and he died from blood loss, slow and painfully. He was only fifteen years old.

As she walked into class Lux ignored all the eyes staring at me like she had just killed someone, she sat in the very back next to Louise who wasn’t quite a friend, but an acquaintance. When the teacher started talking, she leaned over to her and whispered in Lux’s ear. “Look.” As she followed her gaze, the calmness she had just conjured left, all traces gone. Pure hatred flowed through her veins, more than she had ever felt before. Sitting three rows, to the left with a bored look on his tanned face, was him.

Huston, we have a problem.

And his ethnicity is russian.