Kyra sucked in a shaky breath, but the air was thick under the rough sack resting on her shoulders, and she felt the need to come back for another straight away. Faint light filtered through the thick threads, shedding spots of brightness on her tan skin. How long she'd been walking, she didn't know. All she knew was that her legs were aching, her head pounding, and there were people on either side of her, their hands still present over the thickness of her coat. The sack blocked out most noises, but faint footsteps and whispers of indistinguishable words escaped through the fibers.

The sound of a door swinging open caught her attention. It squealed, as though the hinges were rusty; it must have been from an old part of the city. Before she could ponder it further the arms on her lifted. She stumbled forward blindly as a hand shoved her, and caught herself against something solid.

With shaking fingers she ripped the bag off her head, throwing it across the room before someone could shove it back on. Her efforts were in vain though; the room was empty but for her. A door to the right blended into the plain white wall. She tried the handle; it swung downwards but the door didn't budge. Huffing, she whipped around, lips parted as she took in the strange place. It was long and narrow, with pale walls and a thin strip of light running around the top. A glass table dominated the room. She ran her fingers across it, watching as the heat from her skin turned it blue. Though she tried to ignore it, a camera in the far right corner followed her every move, like a bird stalking its prey. She crossed to it.

Something shifted to her right. The once white wall was transparent, revealing the expansive concrete room beyond. Walls, floors, ceiling - even the seats were made of concrete. Dressed in grey, the citizens blended into the long and narrow room. In the centre of the space was a circular desk, behind which two citizens were conversing. As a person approached they turned to help, pointing them towards the right side wall. Kyra watched as the man moved, a box in one arm and the hand of a small child lagging in his wake in the other. The walls were split into thin sections; why they were wasn't clear until the man pressed his watch against one section. The entire panel flashed green and swung backwards to expose the room behind it. It was full of people fighting, using nothing but their hands and feet to get their opponents on the floor.

A small group of people were huddled outside the door to the room she was in; they were young, each with a handsome silver watch on their wrist - it was oddly familiar, but she couldn't think of where she'd seen it. In their midst she saw the two that had taken her, and others she recognised from around school. It filled her veins with lead.

She clenched her eyes closed. "What's going on?" she whispered, opening her eyes to a blank wall once again.

A gasp escaped her lips as she pressed her hands against the glass; it somehow still felt like glass, despite its extreme change in appearance. The room she'd seen on the other side seconds ago was gone. "But where did it-"

"Go?"

Kyra whirled around. A man was sitting at the head of the table, watching her over the tips of his crossed fingers.

"It's a special kind of one way glass designed to change opacity. I figured we should talk alone, without any distractions."

"When did, how did you-"

"Get in here? I used the side door." He smiled. The side door was ajar enough for a snippet of the adjacent room to be seen; it had opened so silently she hadn't noticed it. "Last time I finish your sentence Miss Jackson, I promise."

Kyra didn't respond. Her body stiffened as her eyes searched the man's face. Still smiling, he got to his feet. She couldn't help the rush of guilt that ran through her as he limped towards her, one foot twisted inwards and dragging behind. As much as she wanted to stand her ground, she couldn't; the nauseous feeling in her stomach made her meet him halfway.

He held out a wrinkled hand. "It's Kyra, correct? I've heard a lot about you. All good things, don't worry."

His words made her stomach contract, but she took his hand nevertheless; it was strong and rough, the palm calloused, his grip tighter than she thought possible. Up close she could see the salt-and-pepper colouring that dusted his dark hair. He was much taller than her, and wider too, so much so that the little distance between them filled her with dread.

Kyra smiled a tight lipped smile. "And you are?"

"Straight into the questioning, I see. They said you were inquisitive." The man smiled and sat back down at the head of the table. He motioned for Kyra to sit at the other end. "My name is Arthur Everett, but the people here call me the Commander."

Kyra didn't know what to say to that. For one, who was 'they'? The more demanding question was who was the man across from her. A commander was a leader, a visionary, someone to follow - but they had the president for that. Before she voiced any of her queries, the Commander spoke.

"I am truly sorry about the way you were collected today; I told my soldiers to be civil, but you know how youths are, driven more by their emotions than they are by their minds. I understand your need to defend yourself." He leaned forward and rested his chin on his fingertips, his gaze so focused on her she looked away. "You must be wondering why I brought you here."

Kyra nodded, but the words hadn't settled in yet; soldiers in particular.

"Don't worry, all will be explained soon. First things first: since you became a Controller, have you started noticing strange occurrences? Ones that you weren't aware of before your Vinctures?"

She nodded once more, unsure. "Small things, yes."

"I'm sure you believe you have changed due to the job, that it has opened you up to more possibilities, altered who you are and how you view the world. But you haven't; all that has changed is your eyes."

Frowning, Kyra asked, "What do you mean?"

"From the day you are born you are given a drug. In addition to connecting you to the Control Centre, it does something to your brain, puts up a wall. That wall glosses over your eyes and changes your memories, so that all you see is what the government wants you to see."

"That's impossible." Kyra said it like a question. She shook her head; her choice to not trust the Commander was definitely the right one.

"You're a bright girl Kyra. I'm sure you've noticed the changes. Most are subtle, little cracks in the pavement, uneven paint jobs, run down buildings that once looked pristine. All of those aspects are glossed over to create the perfect world Citizens see. But there are some changes you can't deny. Memories that are different to how you remember them, words you've never heard before suddenly sounding natural as they roll off your tongue. If you can tell me you haven't experienced any of that, I'll let you leave right now, no questions asked."

Kyra's hands clenched and unclenched in her lap as she took in his words. Her mind flashed back to the dream she had the night James was injured; it was almost identical to a memory she had - except for a dead body, that was definitely a new addition. On that same night she'd said the word 'devil'; it sounded familiar, though she couldn't for the life of her define it. "Why wouldn't the Controllers tell me that?"

The Commander smiled a grim smile. "Because they don't know it either; just like a majority of the Citizens they were kept in the dark. There are a lot of things they don't know that I do, things I can tell you."

"Like what? All you've said so far are observations anyone with working eyesight could make."

The Commander's hopeful smile didn't falter as he pulled a small metal object out of his pocket. It had a glowing red top. As he pressed down the chilling scream she'd heard earlier that day pierced the air; she ducked and covered her ears to block the sound.

"Why would you do that?" she exclaimed, keeping her hands on her ears until he tucked it away again.

"To prove to you that I am telling the truth. This recording is of someone screaming. We play this, what, thirty times a day? And have been for nearly the past four hundred years. It's a way of recruiting people like me, people who are immune to the drug. Only those not infected by the drug are able to hear it. You were taken off the drug when you became a Controller, and you aren't on it now; that's why I can tell you all of this without fearing that the Controllers will find out."

Kyra took a deep breath. As much as she hated to admit it, much of what he said made sense to her. But there was too much of it that didn't add up. "How do you know any of this?"

"Because I've been seeing these things my whole life. I grew up listening to that scream, recruiting people, training them, counting cracks in the pavement. That is the life I was given, the life of an Exempt."

Kyra shook her head. "I-I don't believe you. The government wouldn't let this happen."

"Believe me, they tried to stop us." A dark look crossed over his features. It made her feel like she was interrupting a personal moment, so much so that she had to look away. "We're told from a young age that our ancestors were great people who saved all those they could from a disease. The truth is, after the third world war the human race was left in ruins. Instead of facing our problems, they made them disappear."

"Disappear? What is that supposed to mean?"

"The disease was no natural occurrence; it was manufactured. And its creators had no qualms killing all those they didn't need."

"What are you suggesting? That our ancestors killed the rest of the human race so they didn't have to fix their problems?"

"That's exactly right, Kyra."

"No, that's insane."

The Commander shrugged. "Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. All I know is that this knowledge has been passed down by the Exempt for generations; we have evidence to prove it."

Kyra gripped her head between her hands, looking up at the man through her lashes. "I'm not saying I believe you, but how did you stay under the radar so long? I've been to the control centre, I know how it works. They would pick up what you're doing in an instant."

"One of the original Controllers noticed an irregularity in some of the Citizens thoughts and actions. Their thoughts did not transfer properly and instead came out in strange patterns. He got together a group of Citizens and did a variety of tests. The test with the most important results was conducted in an audience of both Citizens and Exempt. They were shown a variety of horrible images, ones people with the drug wouldn't be able to see - their minds would have glossed it over. And they did. Half of the audience acted as though there was nothing wrong."

The Commander's eyes narrowed to slits. "The Exempt were the ones sitting on the floor with their hands covering their eyes, rocking back and forth as they blocked the sound of screaming."

There was silence for a moment. Whether it was to allow Kyra to absorb the information or because the Commander needed a moment, wasn't clear, but either way it gave her time to think.

"Is that where the idea for the scream recording originated from?"

He nodded. "From that point onwards we were known as The Ones To Watch, or, as we prefer, The Exempt. The programme contained all of the Citizens who weren't affected by the drug, though he told the other Controllers we were more rebellious and had to be controlled specially. In truth he wanted to help us gain in strength and knowledge so that one day we could fight back."

"I don't understand. How would the other Controllers not notice the missing thoughts?"

"Over the years the group grew and the Controllers that worked with them did as well. The Exempt began to find ways around the city's systems through devices that did all the hard work for us. All we have to do is pretend to get electrocuted every ten minutes to keep up the rouse."

Kyra rubbed her aching temples and tried to absorb all of the information. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I need your help. Your new position in the Control Centre would help us in our mission."

She sat up. "Which is?"

"To explore the Outside world, connect with the people out there. And once we have them on our side, we want to put an end to Arabel once and for all."

"Why would you want to? They're the reason we're alive. They feed us, clothe us-"

"And control us? They don't have to, not if you join us. Think about your family Kyra, about what could happen to them if you don't help us."

Kyra closed her eyes, fingers digging so deep into her temples there were crescent indents in her skin. In the last month alone her ideals had been challenged time and time again. She'd learnt, cried, and been attacked. There were points where she'd considered giving up, going to the president himself and admitting she'd failed her task as a citizen. She'd persevered through all of that. But this?

"You're threatening my family?"

"If that's what it will take."

"How can I trust that you're telling the truth?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you the truth is treason in a world full of lies?"

That sentence yet again. Only now she knew where she'd heard it. A dark night, on a dark train, with a man's body crushing her's against a glass window.

"That night on the train... You sent that man to attack me?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He waved it off. "Merely a test to see how much your friends in the Control Centre care. Obviously a lot."

Her veins felt like ice as her chest tightened to the point it was painful. Kyra got to her feet and crossed to the door. "You can threaten me, beat me, even allow your men to attack me - but you will not hurt my family or my friends. You said so yourself, my position in the Control Centre is valuable. If you so much as look at my family, I will end you."

A hand clamped on her arm before she could turn the handle. The Commander's eyes were pleading as she stared into them. "Wait, please-"

"No." She yanked her hand from his grasp. "You asked me to listen. I did. I don't believe you. I can't." She yanked the door open, ready to leave and never look back; before she could the words that had come to her over the past month slipped out. "I wish, just once, people would understand that enough is enough, that sometimes the truth is too much. Sometimes the world is best left as it is."

She ran forward, not noticing the warm wall of grey until she stumbled into it - into him. Jumping back as though she'd been electrocuted, she raised her arms - but in one blue-eyed glance her resolve and her hands dropped.

"James?" She didn't wait for a reply as her eyes flickered past each Exempt in the cavernous room. "What are you doing here? Never mind, we have to leave. These people are insane, they think ... well, it doesn't matter, but we have to leave, now, come-"

James looked straight through her. "Kyra, stop."

"There isn't time, we have to get out of here!" She yanked on his arm, but he stayed rooted to his spot, staring down at his shoes. "What are you doing? You can't stay here!"

"I..." His jaw clenched as he shook his head. "I can't leave."

She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. It was then she remembered who else had uttered that sentence to her; in the coffee shop only hours ago, discussing all the secrets that had formed between them, James had said, "the truth is treason in a world of lies." Only now, looking into his eyes properly for what felt like the first time, did she realise what that meant.

She opened her eyes. "Why?"

"You know why." And she did know.

"Say it."

He looked up, meeting her gaze, blue to hazel.

"I'm an Exempt."

— author's note —

Hey guys! How is everyone?

What are your thoughts on what the Commander said? What is going on with James? Let me know! I find it really interesting to hear your predictions.

Thanks again for reading! I love writing but it's so incredible to realise people enjoy my work as much as I do.