*COMPLETED*
One event in history has the power to change everything. One choice...can leave an entire society shifted. For the new society, it is a constant battle between two powers, separated from one another by a defining characteristic.
...
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The air is bitter, cold, frigid. The cell around me is dirty with dust and infested with rats, their nests made of cotton and thorns litter the corners. I set my head back against the wall, the feeling of regret and guilt heavy within my chest.
An overwhelming sensation crowds my mind, making me feel so stupid for not planning this better, thinking of all possible outcomes or scenarios. I avert my gaze to my left, seeing Mia with her head leaning on the metal bars keeping us all in. We all wallow silently in our regret, each one of us knowing where this trial will end up today.
"I'm so sorry," I say, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"It's not your fault," Logan states, his fingers intertwined in his chiffon locks, he glares out the front of the cell, his knees to his chest with his right arm wrapped around them.
I let out a sigh of defeat, "All I wanted was to find a better life away from the city. I was not imagining this to be that new life."
"Don't worry," Mia says, lifting her head to join in on the conversation. "We still have the trial, and it can go two ways," She swings her legs off of the bench she was laying on. "We can either be accepted into their society, or thrown out, it's a fifty percent chance either way."
"Yeah, and who knows, they might take pity and let us in. And if they're like you said they were, Mads, in your speech last night to that old guy, they might accept us," Sam divulges.
He leans against the moss covered concrete wall, his hair a mess and his clothes ripped and stained. We weren't able to grab our duffles, so all of our clothes are still at our makeshift camp.
"I-I just don't know, I mainly said those things to sugarcode him so that he wouldn't shoot us all right then and there," I admit.
"It's fine, guys, It'll be fine. If they don't let us in, we can bargain an agreement that they don't hand us over to the Patrolmen, but rather let us go free," Quinn says.
"Then where would we go? There's not another civilization for a thousand miles, we would die of starvation before we get anywhere," Logan announces, his crystal blue eyes connecting with Quinn's face.
"I guess I didn't think of that," he mutters, folding his arms over his chest.
Suddenly the sound of a steel door unlocking grabs all of our attention. Footsteps come in hearing range as a figure appears in front of the metal bars. The same man who had taken us last night stands behind the man at the door, holding six bags.
"Time to go, little pretties," he says, "The jury's waiting for you."
The man at the bars sticks a key into the cage, opening the door and stepping in. The old man hands him the bags, and one by one begins putting them over our heads, blocking our view from everything so we have no idea where we are...so we can't escape.
