Despite my efforts, I was unable to focus on anything. My mind was like a circuit of thoughts, all tumbling over each other in an attempt to be understandable. The cold air that I had felt was replaced by a warm feeling as I was carried to the inside of one of the many houses. From what I could make out through my eyes that kept fluttering open, only to close again, the interior of the house was clean. There was no stench of the dead or broken mirrors, fluids dripping through leaks in the ceiling or bulletholes and blood splatters on the walls. It was as if this house had never been in contact with how the outside world was now— there was a whole different atmosphere here. Instead of hostile and dangerous, it was welcoming and homey.

       Voices from the distance that had previously sounded merged together were starting to get separate from each other—still inaudible for me, but clearer, as if they were getting closer. But in reality, I was. My eyes rolled over to the man that was carrying me. His unruly and small beard was dirty and so was his face, reminding me that I was still in the same world I had been in just minutes ago and that the house did not actually take me back in time. He kept his squinted gaze straight to the front and his previously steady pace was decreasing, until he halted in front of a closed white door. With his feet, I suppose, he kicked against the door, for it to be opened by a short woman with a neat mousy brown hair-do. She stepped aside for the man that was carrying me to enter and later place on one of the many beds in the hospital-like room.

The soft matrass underneath me made me even more exhausted than I was and my battle to keep my eyes open seeme to get harder. I could barely catch the man that had dropped me off leaving the room as quick as he had entered, only for another man with a cleanshaven face to enter. 

       "You think you can help her, Pete?" the shorter woman asked, her tone starting to fade away into the distance as my eyes drooped close. My body felt limp, not a drop of energy left to raise myself up from the bed. 

       I could feel a sturdy hand grip my wrist and lift it up, only to let it drop. "She's only dehydrated, Deanna. It's nothing I can't fix." 

       My breathing increased as I tried once more, moving my leg slightly. Sweat was dripping over my oily forehead, my hair soaked in it. My attempt to attack the man was weak, barely stroking his behind with my leg. It was a shame, a disgrace. I could do better. A frustrated growl came from me as I tried to lift my other leg, turning my body. My leg came over the bed, but I was too weak to keep it in the air, sending me toppling off the bed, face first on the ground.

🌹

       "Listen to me, Ilyana," my mother spoke, placing her hands on my shoulders. "Don't show weakness. You are strong. You are fierce. You can work over this." Her hands left my shoulder and she straightened her back, turning away from me. With a swift movement, she opened the door in front of us and I wiped my nose quickly before clenching my jaw. Light flooded in the dark hallway, blinding me. With my hand, I shielded the light from me, blinking a few times before being able to see the incredible amount of people waiting in front of the door.

        A wave of desperate cries and questions came from the crowd, almost overwhelming me. Get a grip, I told myself, before stepping outside with my mother. She ignored all the calls and so did I, keeping my glare straight in front of me, my lips pressed tightly onto each other to keep me from bursting in another fit of tears and pressing my hands tighter in a fist. My breathing was steady, unlike moments ago and my head was up straight. Despite the pain that was still lingering and felt as if it would never go away, I tried to keep up my facade, pretended to be someone I was not. 

       We reached the end of the crowd, meeting with a woman, years older than me, but younger than my mother. Her light brown hair was up in a ponytail, giving full view on the straight scars that ran on both her cheeks. Her upturned eyes scanned over my mother and me, her silence cutting through the air as sharp blades. I had seen her like this more often, but it still send shivers down my spine. 

       "Anya," my mother greeted her, ripping through the silence that kept everyoe waiting in agony.

       "Fadia," the woman, Anya, nodded. "The Trackers still haven't returned but they found a trail." She turned to me, her cold eyes piercing into mine. I didn't bulge and nodded at her, swallowing . "How are you, Ilyana?" she asked me in a soft tone. Her stone cold facade dissolved in a second. I liked it better when Anya spoke like this. For a moment, she wasn't the leader, she wasn't the woman that could easily slit the throats of whoever she wanted. She was a friend of everyone.

       I blinked, trying to find an answer. How was I? I was horrible. I felt like breaking into a thousand pieces, rebuilding myself, only to fall apart again. I felt like shit. I just wanted to sleep forever and stop facing all the troubles, all my worries, all my sadness. But I couldn't. I had to be strong. I am strong. "Vengeful," I answered her eventually, truthfully and earning an accepting nod from Anya.

        "Good. You should be." As the yelling from the crowd was still on going, Anya looked up agitated at the people, silencing them. Her cold facade was up again. "Osman was very promising," Anya stated. "He was very loved, by all. Whoever did this will not go upunished. They will feel our wrath and then some more." Her words were like poison, dripping down her tongue. 

       "When you find her," I declared. "I want to kill her." I got the knife out of my belt, showing it Anya. "I want to make sure she suffers." Anya took the knife delicately and turned her body for half.

       "Bring this to the carver," she told one of the men standing behind her. "When she is found, she will be yours, Ilyana." I nodded at her in satisfaction, feeling as if I had accomplished something already. "Any more wishes?" the leader inquired, focusing on my mother. "Faida, there must be something you would like?"

       Mother didn't hesitate a moment. "I want Ilyana to be a runner." With surprise, I looked at my mother. She had never wanted me to be part of the runner, finding me too young. As I was about to ask what changed her mind, she looked down on me. "She proved today that she was stronger than I initially thought."

       "Done," Anya assured my mother. "I'll put her on the list my self. She'll be on the first unit, leaving when the sun has past the hills." She turned gracefully, followed closely by a heavily guarded man and woman.

       As Anya left, the crowd slowly parted away to fulfill their daily tasks. Most of them passed us, embracing my mother and patting me gently on my shoulder. As the last person left, I turned to my mother.

       "Thank you." Now that I was a runner, I didn't only have a bigger role on helping in our society, I could finally go outside. And if we had any chance, we would find the woman who murdered my younger brother.

       "Don't make me regret this, Ilyana." She looked down on me, tears glistering in her eyes and she tried her hardest to keep herself from crying. "I can't lose you too. I won't be able to survive that." Quickly, I nodded at her, taking her hand.

      "You won't regret it, I promise."

🌹

       The moment I felt a pair of cold hands grasp my bare legs, I woke up in a blast, kicking my feet up in defense. A scream escaped my mouth in reflex and I was immediately met by my headache from earlier. I was disorientated and didn't know how much time had past. Were it a few seconds, minutes, hours maybe? Despite my deep desire to throw up, I felt slightly better than before my sleep. My feet connected with a hard surface— a face, possibly and the cry of pain that followed confirmed it.

       My eyes, that I, unknowingly, had kept close shot open and I blinked furiously against the extreme bright light that blinded me. As my eyes had adjusted a bit, I could make out the tall man, Pete, folded over with his hands covering his face and uttering profanities at me. I forced myself to sit up, trying to ignore the dizziness that followed soon after. It didn't work and I clenched my jaw, still pushing myself off the bed. For a moment, I stumbled on my feet, trying to find my balance and I noticed that I was wearing a white shirt that was two sizes too big and shorts. My feet were still bare, but the wounds were taken care of and so were the ones on my arms.

       Pete seemed to have recovered from his temporary injury and I took my chances running, despite my dizzinss and the fact that I was unarmed. Anya had always told me to run in a dangerous environment that was unknown, insisting that my safety was much more important and my chances of surviving much greater. The only door in the room was open, granting me a free passageway. As I exited the room, the man yelled someting after me and tried to follow. I looked at both of my sides, trying to find a door that would lead me out of the house. On my left, there was one and I did not waste any more time and raced towards it. The light outside was much worse than inside and again, I was temporarily blinded. But it didn't keep me from going. I fell down the small steps, scraping my knees even more than they were already.

       I forced myself to stand up again and shielded my eyes from the sun with my hands. There was a chance I could badly twist my ankles, because I couldn't see a thing, but the thought of being taken was much worse. My feet started moving, slamming hard against the hot pavment, hurting but luckily not twisting. I tried to keep my breath steady and my mind clear, saving my low amount of energy.  Just a few minutes and I could get out. After that, I could rest as much as I desired, or at least as much as I needed. There was no one outside, but I knew that would change soon enough. The yellow sun was high in the sky, indicating that it was quite early in the morning. I had no plan, no sense of direction that would move me in a partivular direction. There was no sign that showed if I was running towards the gate, or away from it.

      Many similar houses were lined up neatly and seemed brand new, lawn cut perfectly and not a single piece of litter on the ground. No rotting corpses, or dry blood. There was only an abandoned skateboard in front of the steps of one of the houses - it was like an average suburb, despite there being nothing average about my situation.  As I ran past another house, a voice spoke up, halting me.

       "Lost?" The voice was hoarse and harsh, but had no interest sounded in it. Stopping in my tracks, I turn around to see a man sitting carelessly on the wooden beams, inspecting his crossbow. I didn't answer him and instead debated with myself if I could take his crossbow. In my current weakened state, there was no chance of me winning against this man, so I decided to go on. "Hey! Wait!" he called after me, finally showing interest and sitting up straight. I knew it was the man that had carried me inside. The man that had started all of this mess for me. 

       If he had a weapon, more people must have one. The first person I would see, I would take their weapon if they had one. When I looked behind, I saw how the man with the crossbow was running after me and even more behind him was the man I had kicked. Panic welled up inside of me as I couldn't go on like this forever. There was a chance I wouldn't even reach the gate, maybe I should just give up.

       "RICK!" someone from behind me yelled, most likely the crossbow man. A frown etched on my forehead, trying to think of why he would call out a name. My eyes widened as I saw a man in an officer's uniform appear. He seemed just as shocked as me, but overcame it faster than I did. He sprinted a few steps, tackling me succesful and I screeched as my painful body made contact with the pavement. With his weight he managed to hold me pinned down, making my protests useless.

        "Don't move," he demanded me, as if that was enough to make me stop. As long as I had a bit of energy left in me, I would use it to get free. Couldn't they see all I wanted was to get away? A blonde woman appeared behind the man that was pinning me down, Rick.

       She stepped closer. "Rick, you're hurting her," she warned, trying to be audible over my incoherent cries and curses. The words of the woman seemed to work on Rick, as his grip on me softened and his weight became less until he got off of me, his hands still holding my arms down. My screaming attracted a crowd around us

       I managed to see glimpses of the people around us. They seemed harmless, all dressed in average clothes. There were middle aged people, children and even elderly.

       Rick managed to get up, his hands still on my wrists. In a swift movement, he picked m up, holding my arms tightly against my sides. My head wasn't being held and I tried to lift it, head butting Rick against his nose. His head lolled back and came back, a trail of blood slowly seeping down. He didn't seem bothered by it and only had his face scrunched up because of the pain.

        For the second time that day I was being carried away against my will.

🌹

hello and welcome to the first chapter! i hope you enjoyed it! 

EDITED