1st 5 Pages August Workshop - Roberts Revision 2

Name: Danielle Roberts
Genre: Young Adult XXX
Title: Without



The sputtering voice of our old radio cut through my dream, breaking apart the dark ballroom walls and dripping smiles. My eyes fluttered open and I sat upright, blinking away the dark spots in my vision. Mom and Dad’s laughter sounded from outside my door, intermingling with the sound of the radio. Whatever they were laughing about, I knew it wasn’t actually funny. I swung my feet out of bed, already preparing myself for the day ahead. It was the same as always: Wake up. Act as if the serum worked. Go to Sleep. I raised the corners of my mouth with my thumb and pointer finger, mimicking a smile that I knew I would have to make sincere in a few minutes.

The broadcast from the radio turned from noise to words as I got up and crossed the small space to my closet. “The capture of two Resisters has taken place right outside of Berwyn this morning.” I tugged off my plain white t-shirt. “AE’s who caught the two were Jeffery Dole and Andrew Brown.” I pulled the green tank top over my head before changing into a pair of jeans. “We’re thankful to these two for making the world a better place. And we’re thankful for all of you as well!” I looked up at the clock to check the time before remembering that it was broken. The minute and hour hand were stuck on 4, jerking in one place. I glanced out my window instead. “Keep sending in your tips and calling the AE hotline if you see or know a potential Resister.” The sun was up, glowing her brilliant yellow light over Chicago. I guessed that it was after nine.
That meant Crafts ‘N More should be open already. I needed to buy a new journal today since I’d filled up my previous one the night before, cramming the last of my thoughts into the corner of the page. The thing about being a Resister was that I couldn't talk to anyone about it. Ever. I couldn't talk about how I felt like I was suffocating in a world of fake smiles and vacant eyes, how tiring it was pretending to be like them. I had to keep it all in—all to myself, or else the AE’s would haul me away in a second.

The usual uneasy feeling skirted across my neck at the thought of them. The color of their uniforms—yellow— splashed across my mind. It was really my fear of them that pushed me to start writing down how I felt a year ago. Keeping my emotions under a tight lid of fear for two years had begun to take its toll, and I'd go to bed every night wanting to scream into my pillow. Sometimes, when I was sure my parents were asleep and couldn't hear me, I did. But writing down the way I felt—how badly I wanted to punch something when I was angry, or cry when I was sad—lifted the lid of fear just a little, letting out some steam. It kept me sane. Or, as sane as one could be in this world.

The last of the broadcast leaked beneath my door. “Remember, Resisters are dangerous. They’ll disrupt the peace that Alacrisotium creates.” I stuffed the clothes I’d slept in beneath my purple pillow and headed to the bathroom. The red oak wood floor creaked beneath my feet as I stepped out into the hall. Just as I shut the door, a new broadcast began. “Good morning everyone! Today is July 8th and it is forty-five minutes past the hour…”

 July 8th. I stood in the darkness of the bathroom as the date resounded in my head. Four years ago today, I’d found out that the serum didn’t work on me. My hand reached up, searching for the bathroom light to chase away the flashback that I knew was coming. The switch brushed against my fingers as I flicked it on, but it didn’t illuminate the yellow shower curtain and peach towels and detangler spray bottles cluttered around my sink. Instead, I saw the white hall of the hospital as I stepped out of the operating room, watching as the girl’s dark hair disappeared around the corner, her hands held behind her back by two AE’s. I started down the hall, ignoring the stinging cold of the floor as it jabbed at the bare soles of my feet, ignoring the sobs of the girl being taken away. The air conditioning cut through my paper thin blue hospital gown, and my teeth were slamming together by the time I finally reached the bathroom. It was only when the door was firmly closed that I gripped the white porcelain of the sink, fighting down the bile reaching its fingers up my throat. The fear I’d been holding in trembled my lip and drained the color from my skin.

I thought about my parents and the doctors back inside the operating room, waiting for me to return joyous and smiling with a permanent bounce in my step, just like them. That was the way I should have woken up. If the serum had worked. But it didn’t. This couldn’t actually be happening to me. I couldn’t be just like the girl who was just dragged away minutes ago, caught right in front of my very eyes. I was supposed to have the Serotonin and GABA and Oxycotin neurochemicals pumping through my brain right now. I was supposed to be just like Mom and Dad and everyone else. I wasn’t supposed to be dangerous, I wasn’t supposed to be the monster that I’d been taught Resisters were. Why did my brain resist the serum? What was wrong with me?

I doubled over and vomited right into the sink. My stomach lurched, and suddenly, I wasn’t leaning over the hospital sink anymore, but my own, surrounded by those familiar detanglers. The paper thin gown was gone, replaced by my tank top and shorts. I straightened up and gasped, the last of the flashback disappearing. It never failed to come back and haunt me, to seize my mind and drag it back to that terrible day. Dad’s voice carried from down the hall, and I could already hear his chirpy tone, the cheeriness permanently woven into his voice. “The world is getting safer every day with the captures. Good thing, too.”

Yes, good thing, I thought bitterly. My tired eyes stared back at me in the mirror. Not so much tired from lack of sleep as from living a lie every day. They were the shiny caramel of a candy apple, but there was nothing sweet about them. I knew that in a few minutes I’d have to make them brighter. Awake. Happy. I brushed my teeth, all the while running through the mental list in my head as I did each morning for the past four years. No frowning, no faltering in my footsteps, no getting visibly angry or sad. Always have a faint smile shadowing my lips. It was the same routine, every day for four years.

“Alli, honey?” There was a knock on the bathroom door. “I made you breakfast!”

Now the façade would begin. The curtain could lift and the act could start. I ran a hand over my face and let the familiar robotic smile spread across my lips. My eyes brightened, my chin raised. And then, I opened the door.