Forbidden

One - Alina

The Sun was beautiful. I've read stories about it, that tell of how it shone so bright, it lit up the whole world. It created warmth and gave the Earth colour. People played and learned in the lighttime - known as the 'day', then - and the Sun was praised by everyone. It created life. Without it, we could not live. But we do now. Through artificial light and artificial warmth. I can see the colours, but it doesn't seem as real as I'm sure it used to.

When I was younger, my mother told me stories about how people begun to take the Sun for granted and that's why it disappeared. The stories were, of course, fake, but it always makes me sad to think about them. Even now, after all these years. Except, when I think of them now, I no longer mourn for the Sun alone, but for my mother too.

People used to study the nighttime too. There were jobs that enabled people to be paid to do just that. They said, when the sun exploded, the Earth would be engulfed by the heat. But they didn't prepare for how early it would explode. Or the flares that caused the Earth to spin away before it could be destroyed. Now we have no sun. The lighttime is gone and we have lost track of time. We estimate the years now, the mean of what the clocks say. It doesn't matter now.

Humanity was civilized, once, but that was a long time ago. Now the government takes away everything we have and we are left in darkness. They do not care about the orphans or the families ripped apart. They do not care about the fighting that takes place, as long as we do not break the rules. Never break the rules.

I've seen people get angry, or depressed, or desperate or all three. I've seen what happens to those who disobey. They disappear. They are wiped away. I am not supposed to remember, but I do. I'm the only one. Whenever something goes wrong, the government doesn't hesitate to erase the mistake. There is nowhere to hide. We get our trackers renewed every month. We are monitored by whatever they insert in our brains every year. They only thing they don't know, is our thoughts.

"Ali, Ali!" I get pulled out of my train of thought by my brother. Another bad dream, I presume. I get up and go sit beside him. He is no longer lying down and his sleeping bag is loose behind him. He starts to sob quietly and I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close to me, trying to protect him from the horrors of his mind.

It's dark in here, I can't risk being discovered by guards. It was selfish of me to bring him with me, but I couldn't let them replace his' memories of our parents, of me, and ship him off to some other couple who suddenly get memories of him, the kid they never had. I thought it was a good idea, but now I'm not so sure. He's terrified of the dark, his head filled with all the stories they tell at school. We can't go back now. It's too late for that. We have already been erased from the nation. We were never there.

"The Shadow Monsters were there again." One sentence brings me back to the present. I let my thoughts wander far too much. I love thinking. But it makes me a terrible mum, or, rather, substitute mum. I need to be there for my brother.

"The same ones, again?" How is my voice so strong, when I am so broken?

"Yes. They c-came for me again. They kept c-coming closer a-and closer and I-I c-couldn't get a-away!" His voice is nearly as broken as I feel. My shattered heart breaks even more. He's six! This shouldn't happen to someone so young. I swear if I find that teacher, I will kill her!

"They're not here now, you're safe. It's okay now, you're with me. You're safe here." I'm so bad at being comforting. I can shout, fight, injure people, but I am not comforting. A deep breath. Here goes nothing. "Nate, the monsters aren't real."

"Of course they're real!" I bite my lip. Not again. "Miss-"

"Miss Simpleton is wrong, she was just making it up so that people don't break the rules."

"I know, but why, no one ever breaks the rules, anyway."

"Because of the stories they tell." My brother looks up at me. In his anger, he had pulled away to yell at my face, but now I can see the defeat in his eyes. Then, it turns to worry.   He looks down and picks up the zip of his sleeping bag. I stare as his fingers fiddle with it, but he doesn't notice me watching. This is bad. He only fiddles like this when he's nervous. And he's not often nervous around me.

"It's not just that." He whispers, so quietly, I can barely hear him. "The dream, it felt... real."

I touch his arm. "Dreams often feel real, even when-"

"But this was real! I could feel it!" He's yelling at me again. "Why don't you believe me," he's hitting me with his pillow now and screaming. He knows I hate screaming. "You never believe me!" He repeats it over and over and hits me, over and over and his face is streaked with tears.

He drops the pillow and slouches over, defeated. He cries, and I hold him close again. I rock him back and forth, back and forth. I think of what my dad would do, if I did this, as I am completely lost. So, I say it. The biggest lie I've ever told, and I'm not often a liar. Honesty is important to me. But this is important to Nate.

"Ok, I believe you."