Glitch (The Write Awards 2013 Winner)

Glitch - Chapter 2

With shaking hands Freya stashed the pocket watch in the top drawer of her bedside table. The cold sting of the metal still stained at the touch. It was a childish hope to harbour that she could cower in the shadows undetected by merely placing the source of her fear out of view. But panic had distorted her sense. For that brief moment the removal of the watch from her sight would suffice. A better plan would arrive in conjunction with a pace of breath returned to normal. And the better plan would have to wait because a jumble of frightened thoughts thudded through her mind as her breath quickened to a continuation of sharp intakes.

To run now would be a criminal offence and there was no hope for escaping. They would catch her; they always did catch the idiots who attempted to run. Besides, she had nowhere to go. Freya had never stepped foot outside the town of her birth. The country retained the vague familiarity of the whisper of a story that had once been told. Running was not an option. Even in the panic that had gripped her mind, that logic remained.

Fear crawled across her skin as she scuttled from the warmth of her sheets. Immediately the bite of night air nipped at her skin as she shivered in feeble isolation at the centre of the room. In the silence all that could be heard was the frantic thump of her heart hammering. Her breath continued to rasp with an accelerated abruptness; it seemed to be determined to fill the void of sound left by the ticking. The nausea rising within her was far too strong to ignore. Made blind by the darkness she stumbled for the bathroom.

She crashed through the door and quickly sank to her knees. Once huddled on the floor Freya heaved into the toilet. The burn of sick scratched at her throat as tears streamed from her eyes. Her spluttering cough echoed around the bathroom intermingled with a gasping breath as she desperately struggled to maintain control. The sickness had left her shaken. She wanted to crumple into a slump of beaten exhaustion but that was not an option for her either.

In order to pull herself up she was forced to use the sink to make up for her diminished support. After a few steadying breaths she managed the feat. The reflection she faced in the mirror was wan with horror. The usual tangle of waves that comprised her hair had become plastered to her face by a cool sweat. Every aspect of her appearance reflected the fear that burned furiously within her heart.

An Anomaly.

The word rattled through her mind with an unsettling echo. For so long the term had only been associated in her thoughts as a nameless figure of pity. The partnerless few were ostracised from her society. Locked away in Anomaly Convents where they could dedicate their wasted lives to something of use. Their whereabouts, subsequent treatment and lifestyle were ambiguous and unknown much like the faceless Government that put them there. Not many people questioned the welfare of Anomalies. Outside of the glimpses she caught of her father's private tirades she had never heard anyone utter pity for the Anomalies. And Freya was never supposed to have heard those in the first place.

From the moment a child could comprehend it, teachers taught their students, parents taught their children and society dictated to its subjects, that Anomalies were worthless. It was ingrained in culture. They were almost another species. And yet the reflection staring back at Freya from the mirror was now one of them.

Perhaps she deserved it.

She had spent so long detesting the countdown but never spared a thought for the Anomalies. Her only complaints were of selfish origin. Her father's tirades were no longer present to remind her. Not once had she considered the emptiness of knowing that no one was waiting at the end of a countdown. Now that was all that consumed her.

Jolting herself from thoughts, Freya considered how much time remained. As an empty calm settled into the void of her despair, Freya began to calculate. Daybreak at the latest. The moment the fingers of sunlight crept through the curtains, they would arrive. Still trembling with shock, she cupped her hands under the tap to allow a pool of water to collect. The cool water sliding down her throat appeared to have a calming effect. She did not have long at all. A new countdown had begun in her life. And she was running out of time.