Refracted

- - 7 - -

"Children, go upstairs."

I recognised the voice of my mother but it had changed. Her soft, warm tones had been replaced with cold and hard ones, poorly masking the immense fear lurking underneath.

"Verity, GO!" She cried.

So I went. But not before peaking out the corner of the window to see early prototypes of VISORs heading down the path to our quaint, little house.

It was strange, I remembered, to see such ugly, mechanical machinery stomping down our delicate path. Just nights before, my mother had been planting my father's favourite flowers (lilies) before he returned from work.

My father was a journalist but recently he had gotten in too deep. The information was classified but by eavesdropping on bits of hushed 'adult' conversations I had pieced together part of the picture.

Recently, my father had gotten involved with some rebels as reconnaissance for the Lower Authority while under the cover of journalism. He was a journalist - and a respected one too so his true intentions wouldn't be discovered. The rebels were all too happy to report the government's dirty secrets to my father but more information was relayed than the Lower Authority could control.

My father was a good, honest man. But he was naive and tried to publish the information himself.

Exactly, what he wasn't supposed to do.

He did what no one was forgiven for.

He switched sides.

And sides weren't even supposed to exist.

My father had reputation and people listened. Rebels and riots sprung up soon after and we were heading towards a revolution.

My father was to blame.

All he needed to do was reveal enough information to the Lower Authority for the rebels to be eradicated and then he would be free. His duty to Terra would have been fulfilled.

And we wouldn't have had VISORs coming straight for him.

"Verity, I said GO!" My mother was hysterical now, tears streaming down her face.

My father walked towards me; his face was calm but I could see his hidden, clenched fists.

"It's okay, Verity. You can go. Look after your brother now."

The last words I ever heard from him...

And with that, I followed my brother upstairs while my father was dragged away.

***

I had never seen my mother cry before but burning the breakfast eggs did it. Silent, salty tears dropped onto the metallic pan and hissed as they evaporated.

My brother had no clue what was going on but I was twelve. I had to step up now as the head of the house. My mother was left a shell and I supposed that a part of her was taken along with my father. But I was determined to look after them and honour my father's last words to me.

They were my responsibility from now on.

***

I didn't want to go to school but my mother made me. She said we had to act as if everything was normal. Any sign of rebellion from us would mean punishment. So I went to school and did normal school things. Yet, I didn't feel twelve anymore. It was as if in those few moments of last night, I had grown up.

***

At first I was angry with her, then I was sad and finally I was scared. To me, my mother was a hypocrite. She said things had to be normal and made me go to school but then she was nowhere to be found at the end of the day. She had never let me walk home alone before but it was getting late and after all I had grown up, hadn't I?

Then the sadness set in as it grew dark. My stomach grumbled as the table lay bare with no mother to cook anything. The house seemed a lot larger when I was on my own and no one was there to comfort me.

I hadn't seen my mother nor my brother since that morning and I couldn't fathom why they would be late.

Then I got scared. Neither my mother nor my brother retuned home that day. They didn't come home the next after. My school called on the holo-phone about my absence but I was too scared to pick up.

For the first two days, my stomach growled endlessly. On the third day it stopped. On the fourth day, I felt weaker than ever as my life force drained out of me.

On the sixth day, they found me.

It was just like with my father. VISORs stormed up the little, flowery garden path and the door was once again removed from its hinges.

But instead of running upstairs where it was safe, I stayed and watched them. Curious about their purpose and actions. Curiosity: a fatal flaw. Without hesitation, they grabbed me. And I was immediately reliving a nightmare. My father's nightmare.

I was taken to the correctional facility and was told it would be my home until adulthood. Then I would be given a standard apartment and would be assigned an occupation so that I could live out the rest of my measly life. Like clockwork.

Initially, I rebelled and kicked and screamed and fought. I refused to follow their rules and wanted to go back to my family. They even made me transfer schools as my life was turned upside down. Everything I had ever known was dissolved into senseless chaos.

But it was exhausting. After all I was only twelve.

Three days after my kidnapping, a new family owned my childhood home.

It broke me.

The facility was my home now.

It always had been.