Human Untouched

1

I had been waiting three years for my brother to return. He left when I was fifteen. Taken, more like it.

The residents of Section D didn't really have much of a say in who the Peacekeepers took. But any other members of the family were exempt from abduction as long as the one in their possession was still alive.

That was a bit of a problem now. But then again, it's hard to get mad at a corpse.

My gaze was blankly fixed on my brother's dead body, simply covered with a white sheet while my mother wailed in my father's arms. He'd been a month away from turning eighteen and joining the State, saving me from that fate. But they'd arrived sooner than expected.

I looked up at the Peacekeepers, two of them stationed at my open front door. Their masks covering their entire face and their white armor giving off a dull sheen from the harsh sunlight streaming through the door.

Sighing softly, I turned to look at my parents. They were a wreck. I don't think they even wanted to look under the sheet.

I crouched slowly, grabbing the edge of the white sheet and throwing it off, like ripping apart a bandage on one try. It hurts less that way. But actually seeing my brother, knocked me breathless.

His hair had been shaved off. It made his face seem sharper, his jaw more prominent. He was wearing white clothes. He used to hate white... we used to hate white.

My knees gave out, slamming against the floor with a loud thud. I'd always thought of scenarios where he would show up alive and I would yell at him. But then he would pull me into a hug and I'd cry in his arms. I'd also dreamt of this exact scenario, but there was bit more anger on my end, more screaming, a bit of lashing out where I managed to take down atleast one Peacekeeper.

My eyes travelled down his body, landing on raw flesh peeking through where his hands had been chopped off. I'd heard of this. Any evidence of experimentation was removed. Eyes, tongues, skin, limbs. I had heard stories where often all that returned was a torso, or a head.

I'd missed him terribly in the first few months. My mother would cry herself to sleep every night. Would she do the same for me? Sure, they'd miss me for the first couple of months, but they'd learn to work around the absence, they had practice.

I reached out, placing my hand on my brother's forehead. He was cold to the touch. Not surprising. I'd never be able to see the green eyes we shared. I'd never be able to see them crinkle up at the edges as he gave one of his booming laughs, or narrow at a prank I pulled.

My finger traced over a childhood scar, one he often hid under his messy hair. That one had been my fault. I'd pushed him down some stairs and luckily, he'd gotten away with a simple head wound. It was revenge for when he'd done the same, but I ended up with a broken arm. He never let me walk behind him on stairs again.

I smiled softly to myself, letting my hand fall away before I stood up. Mom cried out my name in a choked sob, dad knew to hold her back. She cried out over and over, louder and louder with each step I took towards the Peacekeepers.

"No!" My mother screamed. There were muffled steps behind me. She covered the short distance faster than I could react. Strong arms wrapped around my torso, tugging me back, away from what awaited me. She smelled like fresh bread.

"No! Please!" She cried, tears sliding down her cheeks. Her voice vibrated through my chest, I could feel her warmth through my thin, overworn shirt. It might be the last time I ever feel it. "Please! She's all we have left! Don't take our daughter!"

With another sob, I was shoved behind her as she threw her arms out in a desperate plea. I didn't react, just staring at the back of her head, memorising everything I possibly could in those short moments. "Take me! Take me!! I-I-I'll do anything!"