Marked Secrets

6

Amelia

The heat from my straightener made me feel warm in my cold bedroom. It always felt like the Arctic in my room, but it was better than the sweltering heat in my cell back at jail. It was the day of my first check-in meeting since being marked, and I wasn't sure what to expect. Part of me believed that if I looked presentable enough, they'd realize they made a mistake and revoke my marked status. It was a stupid way of thinking, considering there was no going back.

That day I was dressed in black jeans, and a muted pink floral shirt. My hair was perfectly straight, while I actually made the effort to put on a few swipes of mascara and some shiny lipgloss for the day. Normally I was too drained to even think about touching any of the makeup that I had, so that was a rarity.

Thinking back, my month spent in jail the second time was worse than the first because of the end result. The three months that I spent in a cell at fourteen years old were because I made a terrible mistake. I told a teacher at school I was thinking of killing myself, and she squealed on me to the principal, who called the officials.

My behavior was less than stellar during that stay, and I even shoved one of the guards out of my way and against a wall. They of course exaggerated the story to me 'assaulting a guard', when that was not the case. It earned me an extra two months, though it was only supposed to be a month that time as well.

You'd think my second sentence would be longer since I was almost successful in my attempt, but that was not the case. Suicide was a crime in Moonstone's eyes. To me, it seemed like the only way out, it seemed like an option and a way to end my suffering for good. I thought I would be dead the next time I opened my eyes, as a spirit or something beyond. I never in a million years thought I'd wake up in the hospital with officials entering and leaving the room while my Mother wailed, and my Father paced the floor.

My sister Zoey showed up somewhere in the chaos, asking what happened as my Mother and Father struggled to explain it to her. My heart monitor beeped next to the bed, and I remembered watching the lines move up and down, wishing they would just stay in a straight line and that all my pain would end.

"Honey," My Mother said, her voice interrupting my thoughts. "You better get moving, just to get it over with."

"Okay," I replied shortly, standing up from the floor and unplugging my straightener.

My Mother gazed at me, watching carefully as I retrieved my purse from my closet and took one last look in the mirror. "You look good, Amelia. Like you're starting to become yourself again."

"There's only one Amelia, Mom," I corrected, looking at her through the mirror. "And that's me." With that said, I excited my bedroom and ended the conversation there.

That was how most conversations with my Mother went, she would never believe that my depression was a real thing. She always thought it was some fake version of myself that I made up, that I was living in some sort of fantasy world when I claimed to feel depressed.

Next thing I knew, I was on the train on my way to one of the official's buildings. I'd never been inside one before, but the instructions I was given after my lovely meeting with Dr. Patterson laid out directions on what days to show up, what to do, and where to go. The train ride was about thirty minutes, which gave me a joyous amount of time to overthink.

As I rested my head against the train car window, I spotted a girl watching me out of the corner of my eye. She looked to be about my age, a youthful vibe surrounding her. Her dull brown eyes repeatedly darted over to me with each stop, watching as I made no movement to get off the train. Part of me thought that she knew exactly where I was going, and was maybe even headed to the same location.