The Selection (Not as it seems)

Something's Wrong

~Georgia's POV~

The second America turned on her side she fell asleep. I can tell, she's snoring a little. I'm sitting at the desk, doing work, and suddenly my eyelids become heavy. I blink once, slowly. Then again. I haven't slept in two days, and suddenly it seems inevitable. I was tired. With that, I close my eyes and fall asleep.

~---~

I jump up. How long was I asleep? A few hours it seems.

"America?" I ask. A few moments pass. Silence. When I don't hear a response I turn around. Maybe she was still asleep?

I turn around to reveal the horrible reason America didn't respond. She wasn't here.

Oh no.

She's gone.

How is she gone? No windows are broken. Did she leave? I wouldn't blame her if she did. I'm freaking out for no reason, right? If anyone finds out I'm dead.

That's when I noticed the note on the mattress. A tiny folded up piece of paper with few words on it written in thick, black ink.

"We kidnapped her from you like you

kidnaped her from the palace. You lost

at your own game. I could laugh."

That note scared me, I'll admit. I had managed to gain and lose the same friend in less than 24 hours. Even worse, what had scared me even more, was who the note was from, the person, or people I guess, who wrote it.

At the bottom, in the dark black ink read:

"--the Southerners"

God. This is horrible. There going to kill her. I can't even get help to get her back. I could get August.

And with that, I left through the front door.

___________________________________________________________________________

~America's POV~

I woke up on a cold, hard floor. I was in a dank dark cell. It was freezing, and my gown wasn't doing much to keep me warm. I was confused for a second. Had I been tricked? Should I have trusted Georgia? She seemed perfectly friendly...

I didn't get a chance to answer my thoughts before someone walked in. He was tall, dark brown hair, cold brown eyes, tan skin.

"Had a good sleep?" he says mockingly. His voice was deep and raspy. He couldn't have been more than thirty-four.

"Who are you?" I respond. My voice was meek and shaky. It was embarrassing as he laughed a dark laugh. I could punch him.

"Aww I'm flattered you want to know. If you must know," he said," I-" He started,"I am a southern rebel."

My blood went cold, my face drained of color. I wondered if he noticed. Would he kill me? Did I get kidnapped from Georgia and the northern rebels? Was I going to die? He looked back at me and smiled in amusement.

No, don't let him see your fear. You have to be strong. You are not going to die. You are going to fight. You are going to see Maxon again. You need to. To apologize. It's his choice who he marries, not mine. You just need to be okay. So fight.

Thinking of Maxon made my heart ache. Before I could linger on the sadness the man's cold laugh brought me back to reality.

"Why did you kidnap me?" I ask.