Kyra's father once told her that love was like a gust of wind, pushing you towards your fate, and that fear was a weight that pulled you down until all you could see was darkness. As her name was read out, Kyra was torn between the two feelings, as though half of her body was trying to bury itself in the ground, and the other was running towards James at full speed with nothing holding her back. In reality she was frozen in her seat, mouth hanging open, her knuckles clenched so tight they turned white.

She could not be partnered with James, she just couldn't be. She had been preparing herself mentally to meet someone new, someone faceless, and while the dark void in her mind didn't have a clear appearance, its personality was obvious. And it was nothing like James. Kyra shook her head to clear it, as though that would make the situation easier to understand.

Taking a deep breath, Kyra got to her feet and stepped forward, trying to contain her confusion. She kept walking until she was at James' side. His gaze bore into the side of her face, urging her to look at him, but she couldn't. She could barely think his name, let alone see his face. It just didn't feel right.

The president looked between Kyra, the crowd and his paper, an emotion she couldn't quite detect playing at his features. It was hard to tell what it was, as the president was a master at controlling his emotions, but Kyra had only one way to describe it: surprise.

"Control sector."

Numb. That was all Kyra felt. As she saw her mother jump to her feet in the crowd. As the world turned silent, like someone had pressed a giant mute button. As her knees gave out and something - or someone - caught her before she could fall down.

The only thing she was aware of was the arms holding her up - one wrapped around her back, the other pulling her arm over a set of shoulders. Her head was spinning, her hands sweating, her lips opening and closing silently as she attempted to scream - but all she could do was gape. Black spots clouded her vision as she stumbled forward. She tried to scream, shout, or do anything, but all she could do was let her eyelids close, and give in to the darkness.

----

The sound of voices gently pulled Kyra back towards consciousness. A memory lingered at the back of her mind, reminding her that something important had happened, but all she could think about was how much she wanted to sleep, to escape life for just ten more minutes.

"Do you always have a sedative stored in the bracelets?"

"Always. Just in case. And in this case it was necessary or Kyra might have left not knowing anything."

What? Kyra thought. She struggled against whatever drug made her body feel heavy, eyes flickering behind her lids.

"Doctor, she's waking up."

"Good. Any longer and I would have been worried. I'll go check on the other patients. You have ten minutes to debrief the citizen, don't waste them."

"What? No, I've never done this on my own before, you can't leave- and, you're gone. Thanks for the help."

Kyra's eyes flicked open at the sound of a sigh nearby. The roof was fabric that sloped down from a point to meet the walls. Her hand unconsciously clenched into a fist.

"Citizen 10205."

Kyra flinched. Her head whipped sideways. Someone was blocking the hole in the tent, the sunlight forming a circle around their head. The lights dimmed and she saw he was just a boy. She would have called him a man, if not for the slight roundness to his cheeks, hinting that he wasn't quite as old as he appeared. In fact, Kyra ventured a guess that they were the same age.

The guy's eyes widened. "Oh. Hello. You're awake. Great." The words tumbled out of his mouth.

Everything about him was unique; his head was a slim oval, unbalanced compared to his large, dark eyes and plump lips. The pale blue shirt that hugged his torso looked oddly familiar, and though her brain was foggy, it was just focused enough to recall a memory. "I-I've seen you. In the crowd earlier. Where am I?"

"Don't worry. I'll explain everything soon, I promise." The boy shot her a small smile, showing off the dimples in his dark cheeks. Though it was a warm smile, Kyra didn't trust it. "Could you please state your name for record?" He held up a small recording device and shook it, wincing as it emitted a sharp beep.

She furrowed her brows as she sat up, taking in her surroundings. "Kyra Amare Jackson." Though Kyra was free to move, she stayed seated on the metal chair - not because it was comfortable, but because her legs felt weak and she doubted they could handle her weight. "Are you a doctor? And where are we? And why?"

The boy scribbled something on his clipboard before placing it next to Kyra on the bed next to her. "We're in a medical tent behind the City Hall. You fainted shortly after receiving your Vincture results."

Frown still in place, she shook her head. That didn't make any sense. "But why would I do that?"

The boy shifted uneasily from foot to foot and pressed his glasses further up his nose. "Well, you're a Controller now."

Kyra let out a shaky breath as she pulled her knees up to her chest. "Oh no, oh no, oh no." Controller. The word ricocheted around her mind. 

The Controller glanced uneasily at the gap in the tent flaps as Kyra's hands gripped her cheeks. No, no, no, she thought, but it made no difference. She was a Controller, one of the most feared people in Arabel. The robotic voice that had haunted her for thirteen years would soon be hers to manipulate. She was going to control people; her family, her friends, maybe even her future children. All hopes of her becoming a doctor disappeared in an instant, and in its place was a churning feeling in her stomach.

In a last attempt to prove it was a dream, she dug her nails deep into her wrist, stopping only when she yelped and blood formed crimson puddles where her nails broke the skin.

Kyra took advantage of the silence and slid off the bed, gaze set on her shaking hands. "Where's my family?"

"After the ceremony is complete your family will be allowed to see you. Please, sit back down." The boy smiled and hurriedly grabbed his clipboard. It clattered to the floor in his haste. He picked it up, sighing, before reaching into a metal drawer behind him. He passed her a wet wipe and a bandaid. "Here."

It was only then that she realised her wrist was still bleeding. She hesitated before taking them. He didn't look threatening; his brown eyes were light and warm under the fluorescent bulbs, and as he raised his hands in what looked like surrender, his coat flapped free to expose his name tag. Ethan. The name almost made her smile. It was the one her father had chosen for his third child, only he'd never been able to have one.

"Thank you." She returned his smile with pursed lips and sat back down. "I just, I don't understand how this happened. How I'm... one of you. I mean, I didn't know it was possible. I thought you had to be born into it." 

"Most of us are born into it, but like anything else it all depends on your results. It's very rare though."

"How rare?" she asked.

"There are millions of possible outcomes for the test, and only about ten lead to a citizen becoming a Controller. You're our first recruit in what... a hundred years?" 

Shaking, she dropped her head into her hands. "Just my luck," she muttered. 

His lips formed a small smile. "Believe me, I had to look twice when I read your result transcript. Once you get an idea about the general criteria though, it's simple to understand why you received the fate you did."

"How so?"

"First you have to understand that every citizen enters the same room, but it looks different for each one. This is because it is tailored to manipulate your fears and beliefs. For example, what did your room look like?"

"Dark," she recalled. "The walls and floor were stone and the whole room was dark at first. I... I had to find the light. But to do that I crawled across the floor."

"The darkness generally means you're afraid of the future, or more specifically you're afraid of the unknown. Were there any exits?"

She shook her head.

"You're afraid of not being able to change your life if it isn't what you want. You feel trapped. That's known as cleithrophobia. Anything else?"

She rubbed the back of her neck. "The floor was covered in blood."

"You might be afraid of a career in medicine, of having someone else's life in your hands."

"It didn't feel so simple at the time." Her voice broke at the end. Shaking her head, she asked, "What about the people?"

"There are always three classic characters: an authority figure or someone you respect but have no emotional ties with, a loved one who is out of reach, and one of the people you care about most. It's important you have different types of connections with each person."

"Why?"

"To help us decide what is more important to you: humanity, family or love. The objects you gave each of them makes it clear."

"So I found... a gun, a book, a first aid kit. And a key," she added.

"And what did you use them for?"

"I gave the key to the president. I made my father face his crimes and gave him the first aid kit so he would heal. And I..."

"And you what?" he asked, leaning towards her with pursed lips.

"I gave, I gave my best friend a choice," she answered, clenching her eyes shut at the memory. She dropped her head into her hands and spoke between her fingers. "Between living an unremarkable life or dying."

"And that's why you are one of us."

Kyra frowned. "What?"

"You were willing to make tough decisions for others when necessary or to ensure their future happiness. You sacrificed your emotions to keep those people separate from society, to keep all of Arabel alive and safe."

Kyra shook her head and looked up, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she did so. "I'm not as selfless as you think - I only did it to get a good job."

"The Vinctures were only a small part of your results. Over the years we've been monitoring you, learning your values and opinions. You hate conflict. You don't understand why people rebel against the government, and neither do we. Believe it or not we have a lot in common."

Kyra clasped her eyes shut, trying to contain the bile that was steadily rising in her stomach. She knew that her thoughts were monitored, but never dwelled on it long enough for it to bother her. "I don't think I can do this."

Ethan held her gaze for a moment, brown to hazel, before sighing and looking down at his hands.

"If you want to understand what we do, you first have to understand our history." Ethan crossed to the far wall and leaned against it, stumbling as it gave way. He caught himself against the tent pole. "Four hundred years ago a disease–"

"You don't have to explain it, I know our history textbook inside and out. The world was corrupt, a disease killed a large majority of the human race, we survived it - the end. Or the beginning," she added.

"Oh. Good. That saves time." Ethan stumbled over the words. "The founders were worried that we would go back to our old ways – money, violence, wars. So to ensure the citizens never had to deal with those problems, the Controllers were created, and we in turn designed the bracelets. We keep the balance. Everything we do, everything we've ever done, has been to protect the human race."

Kyra didn't want to agree - every cell in her body told her not to - but she did. All her life she'd grown up listening to commands and obeying, and it had made her a better person. She was happy, healthy and smart, whereas James - who never listened to his commands - was bitter, sarcastic and heavily scarred - and that's on a good day. As much as she loved him, James' actions only proved to her why the Controllers were needed, and though he had his bright moments, he made himself dark by choosing to rebel.

Kyra pulled her knees up to her chest. "There's no point in arguing, is there?"

He shook his head. "They've had you shortlisted for this career since you were eight years old."

"There's always the one year exit route if I don't want to do this, right?" She wasn't sure of much, but she knew she could hold on for a year. Twelve months. Fifty-two weeks. Three hundred and sixty-five days.

"Exactly. Welcome to the dark side - for now." His smile faltered. "Was that too soon for a joke? I was just trying to, you know, lighten the mood." His hands gestured until he finally dropped them to his sides with pursed lips.

The notion earned him a small smile. "It's never too soon for a joke."

"I'll contact you when it's time to begin your training, but for now, you need to go home and get some rest. Or celebrate." He shrugged. "You do you."

Before she could respond, he'd shouldered his way out of the tent. Like clockwork the doctor came in, followed by her mother, the colour drained from her skin. Danny was just a step behind. But no James. She couldn't blame him; they both had stuff on their minds. James, destined for the job he'd always proclaimed to hate. Kyra, destined for a future she could never have imagined for herself.

At least I know what is best for me now, she thought. It didn't help. She wasn't sure anything would, other than counting down the three hundred and sixty-five days until she could reverse it all.

— author's note —

Hey guys! I've been busy in the real world lately so updates might be a bit sporadic for a few weeks - sorry in advance haha. Anyway, how's it going?

What did you think of the chapter? Do you like Ethan? What did you think about Kyra's fate?

Please let me know if you liked the chapter by commenting or voting! Your feedback means a lot to me. :)