Citizen

Chapter twenty-eight

Kyra gripped her aching side with one hand as James wrapped a bandage around the other. Grimacing, she looked around the training room to take her mind off the throbbing pain in her knuckle. It was much the same as it had been two weeks ago; the only differences were the darkness that'd replaced sunlight out the window and a dull chill in the air that never faded, despite how hot she felt. Harnesses for the climbing wall lay abandoned on the floor alongside a stopwatch, souvenirs of the other exercises they'd completed in the past three weeks.

James gently finished the wrapping and passed Kyra her water bottle. "Good attempt."

Kyra rolled her eyes. "I told you I couldn't fight you, and look," she held up her bandaged finger, "I was right."

"You still tried though, and that's the main thing. You did exactly what I taught you to."

She gulped down the icy water. "I didn't win though."

He shrugged. "It's not always about winning, not if all you need to do is distract someone momentarily to get away from them - like you did. It's about survival. Sometimes a perfectly directed hit can be the difference between life or death."

Kyra leaned forward on her elbows, frowning as James scribbled down information on his notepad. "Do you really think the outside will be that dangerous?" When it became apparent just how much training Kyra would need, the Exempt arranged for the surveillance in the training building to be turned off. It was comforting, knowing that there, in that room, it was just them and no one else listening in. All of her memories were changing, revealing little details she'd never seen before: cameras, microphones, little eyes everywhere. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been truly alone other than in the sanctuary of her bedroom.

He stopped to take a deep breath, blue eyes focusing on Kyra's with a familiar look. "Yes. And nature won't be the only threat, Enforcers will come after you too. Which is why I want to start weaponry training today." He slid a long, thin box from his bag.

The bottle slipped from Kyra's grasp. "What?" The thought of it twisted Kyra's stomach into knots. Ever since her Vinctures, she'd been haunted by dreams of guns, waking up with flashing memories of blood and death and violence. She wiped her palms against her shirt but they were slick with sweat and slid off. A knife she could handle, maybe even a stun gun, but a weapon - fake or not - she'd seen her best friend use to kill himself? She couldn't even fathom the idea.

James didn't look up from his clipboard. "You never know when you'll need that training."

"But you didn't say anything about that before."

"It'll happen at some point anyway, the safe handling of weaponry is a part of the course curriculum." James shrugged. "Besides, we don't need to keep training self-defense today, your muscles will be sore enough tomorrow as is."

There was no counter argument in sight - unless she wanted to tell him about the Vinctures. And that was something she never wanted to discuss.

James ran through the basics in great detail; he turned his weapon over every time a new feature was mentioned, outlining its function and purpose. Kyra tried to listen, but her heart was pounding, blocking out all other noises. She focused on breathing deep gulps of air that never seemed to be enough for her lungs. The gun was too similar to the one from her Vinctures, the one that molded to her palm like a part of her body, the one she passed to James - the one he'd used to kill himself.

With each blink she saw him in chains. A gun. Blood. The sound of her own scream rang in her ears.

"This is all about the correct handling of a gun, the different pieces, the functionality. You have to understand it before you can even begin to think about using it."