Seven (Completed)

~introduction~

She was scared, not of their ending but of his strength. His lack of it. She feared he would not be able to stand his ground. Violet squeezed his arm as he limped toward her. 'Can you make it?' she asked.

He looked down into her beautiful eyes. 'Of course I can! Don't be ridiculous!'

Violet smiled back and let him support his weight by leaning on her as they walked. In front of them, just a few strides away, was the beginning of the line. People in worn-out jeans and coats and ripped shoes were standing in line, most of them shouting words at one another, in languages and dialects that Violet had never heard before. She scanned the moving crowd for a familiar face but she had lost all hope of reuniting with friends or family members when that bridge collapsed and trapped them on the other end, eight months ago. Still, she did not seem able to get over it.

'George, are you sure about all this?' she asked, her eyes desperate to meet his gaze.

'Yes, I am! We've run out of options! What else are we supposed to do? Stick with that group of drifters?' he asked. 'We wouldn't survive if we stayed with them any longer. Moving around constantly, without food or shelter is not gonna work for them either ... Do I need to explain this to you again?' he asked. Violet lowered her gaze and walked silently until they reached the end of the line.

'I'm sorry, darling.' he said, resting a comforting arm on her shoulders. 'We're together now. And we're going to be fine.' George had never been good with words, especially tender ones, so Violet cherished that little moment.

The people guarding the perimeter and the main entrance to the city closed the gate without warning. Violet had to stand on the tips of her toes and she could barely see a group of people aggressively banging at the door, against the guards that stood behind it.

One of the officials picked up what looked like a loudspeaker and talked through it to the angry crowd.

'I understand that you've been through Hell and cannot wait for a permanent shelter. However, we have orders from our superiors to exclude people from certain categories from entering the city's grounds.'

The voices rose, they yelled at his upsetting announcement but his next words were audible over the desperate screams of the crowd. 'Elderly people who have come here without the escort of a young person are to leave this line. Also, handicapped people of all kinds, not just those on wheelchairs, terminal disease carriers, in fact, carriers of any disease and drug addicts are asked to leave. There will be tests before we can let you in so don't try to hide whatever your problem is,' he said.

'Problem,' she repeated inside her head. More yelling followed, protests. Protests of people losing their faith, their future. Some people left the line but not many.

'Those of you who carry money or valuable items, are willing and able to work and do not fit in the categories listed earlier may proceed to the front of the line. There's not room for everyone!' he said. 'No pushing!'

'Violet,' George said as the crowd moved uncontrollably, threatening to drown them in it. 'Violet! We have money and your jewellery. For God's sake, woman, push through them! Move! We need to get in there! They won't let us all get in!' he shouted and she responded without thinking about it.

Cutting through the crowd was not an easy task to follow. Violet pushed her guilt aside and replaced it with her urge to survive, the disgust she felt for those she passed by. Their breaths were stale, their eyes lifeless. They were drifters that smelled of sweat, dust and gasoline.

A wave of selfishness rushed all along her body, making it shiver. She had to get inside the city. She deserved to be there, with George. She picked up her pace even more, dragging George to limp behind her as she sprinted.

Moments later, a tall man in a uniform, which had the green colour of vomit, pointed at her and her husband with a gun, asking them to move forward. She did not bother hiding her smile.

'You are to hand us all your valuable objects, including money,' he stated formally and Violet obeyed, digging into her backpack.

'Sir, are you hurt?' the guard asked a while later, ready to send him away, as he watched him limp to grab the nearest wall.

'No, no, I'm not injured. I got a thorn stuck under my foot. It's not a big deal,' George said back firmly. 'Also, my shoes are small on me. And I've been walking in them all day long.'

The guard stared up and down George, examining his once expensive clothes, his face, his posture. His hands were smooth and his knuckles white betraying he had never needed to work hard in his life.

'He used to be rich. Or of high significance. Or both,' the guard thought. 'You can pass,' he concluded and while Violet nearly jumped in excitement, George stayed restrained and followed her into the grey city they would call their home for the rest of their lives.

'Let's go and find a place to spend the night before everything's taken,' he said and she could not agree more.

Don't forget to vote before turning this page if you enjoyed it :)