A sharp rapping sound cut through the silence of Kyra's room. "It's time!" a familiar voice sang.

Before she could close her book, the door to her bedroom swung open, shedding light on the figure leaning against its frame. "Mum!" With a small smile on her lips, Kyra got to her feet and padded the length of the room, straight into her mother's arms.

"How was your day?" Faye asked. She played with Kyra's hair, twisting it through her fingers – holding her captive.

"How do you think?" Kyra's voice was muffled by the embrace, but her words were clear enough that Faye let her go.

Kyra turned away from her mother and walked towards the right wall, sighing as she reached the menacing metal machine built into it. From the outside it merely looked like an empty box, but as soon as Kyra inserted her arm, glass came down over the entrance, trapping her elbow. As if that wasn't enough to keep her still, a claw dropped down like a metal spider, equipped with many different tools and instruments, some so sharp Kyra gulped. Why the citizens had to take their bracelets off at night was a mystery to her, but at least it gave Kyra time to think, to dream, without someone inside her head.

The spider like machine ran around the length of her bracelet, before stopping to scan Kyra's wrist with a blue light. The metal of the bracelet began to writhe as it expanded, sending a searing pain running up her arm. The light was too bright for her to see what had caused the pain, but Kyra suspected it was the needles - or whatever kept the bracelet on - being pulled out of her arm. As fast as the pain had come, it disappeared, and was instead replaced by a gentle numbness. The perfectly intact ring of silver fell into the machine with a dull thump as the claw snaked upwards, freeing Kyra from its grasp once more.

Kyra's mother frowned. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it. I was tied down at work."

"It's fine. Really." Kyra turned around with a tight-lipped smile. Almost unconsciously, she glanced towards her bedside table, where a stack of leather bound books sat. The top one was lying open where she'd left it. That was how she'd spent the rest of her day. Though most of the books were about politics and maths, reading was one of the only things that distracted Kyra from the real problems in her life, something she was very grateful for.

"It was the busiest I've seen it all year! You wouldn't believe the amount of kids being treated for shock today." Faye eyed her daughter thoughtfully, her grey eyes narrowing a fraction as she stepped forward, lips pursed. "Or maybe you would. But that doesn't matter. I came in here to talk about you."

"What about me?" Kyra asked, eyebrows raised as she sat down on her bed. Whether it was because she was being defensive or not, Kyra wasn't sure, but she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them like a vice. As much as she loved her mother, Faye had a way of making you feel small, weak and insignificant, no matter how sincere she sounded, and Kyra simply couldn't handle her mother's sympathetic smile or caring eyes - not yet, at least.

"Well," her mother began, crossing to the right corner of the room and sitting down at Kyra's desk. "I just assumed you would want to talk about the test. I've been through it myself, I know how hard it is. The things I saw, the things I did-"

"Mum, I really don't want to talk about it." Kyra looked up to meet her mother's gaze, hoping her eyes would say what her mouth couldn't.

"I know you don't. I didn't after my test - neither did your father. But talking about it helps. I know you won't believe me, but the blood on your hands does not make you a killer-"

"Stop. Please." Kyra clenched her stinging eyes shut.

"Kyra-" Faye jumped up from her seat, reaching out for her daughter. The look on her face made Kyra feel even worse. It was a mixture of sadness and understanding, but surely her mother wouldn't understand. Surely her perfect, kind mother would have thought of another way.

"I'm going to bed." Kyra got up and walked towards the door, holding it open for her mother. Tears fell thick and fast down her cheeks but she didn't make to wipe them away. "Goodnight."

Faye froze where she was, her hands still outstretched. She exhaled sharply, before straightening her shirt and walking towards the door, keeping her gaze and chin up. She paused when she reached the door, her eyes flickering briefly towards her daughter as she said, "When you're ready to talk, I'll be there."

And just like that, in a flurry of long, silky hair, Faye disappeared down the dark hallway. Kyra breathed again only when her mother was completely gone, but the ache in her chest stayed.

With a flick of a switch, Kyra's bedroom was engulfed in darkness, the only source of light coming from the open window. She closed the door and padded across the room, coming to rest on her bed, though she had no intention of sleeping. The possibility of actually closing her eyes and dreaming was almost laughable. There were so many things battling for her attention. The test. Her results. Ashley. James. So many problems, yet no solutions.

Despite all of this, Kyra's mind kept coming back to the results ceremony. In just over twelve hours she would know everything about her future. The Government would give her a job, a partner and a new social circle. She wouldn't have to worry about fitting in, or know what she was good at. She would know everything there was to know about herself, and the idea excited her. She would have everything she ever wanted. Everything anyone ever wanted. And yet something about it didn't sit right with her.

Over the years she'd seen some strange results. No matter how hard she worked in school, how often she studied long into the night or rewrote her assignments until her fingers cramped, there was always a chance it would make no difference. The test could change everything. And if it did, all of her efforts would be pointless.

It was only then that Kyra felt the heat of her thoughts, and realised she'd dug her nails so deep into her legs that they had begun to bleed. Kyra crawled over to the window and stuck her head out into the cool night air. It was nearing the end of autumn, and the wintry wind nipped at her face. Pushing the window up further, she shimmied through the small gap and sat down on the sill, which was slick with dew. Vines ensnared her feet as she placed them on the trellis that covered the back wall of every home in the city - a way to incorporate nature into their cramped neighbourhoods - and settled on the window sill. 

A bright, shimmering light made Kyra look to the left. Against the darkness, the towers almost looked like they were glowing, alive with a bright energy that made it impossible to stare for too long. Their reflection on the river was almost ghostly, though beautiful all the same. One by one the towers flickered into darkness as the workers left for the night. If Kyra's father had still been alive, he would have just been getting up, for the main part of his job started when the other citizens went to sleep. Being an Enforcer came with a price, but it was worth it – or so he'd said.

Kyra leaned back against the window and stared up at the stars. They shone like diamonds, each one reflecting a different colour and brightness. Though her mind always went to the science behind it, a part of her was mesmerised by their beauty. She'd read in a book once that cities dimmed the glow of the stars, but tonight it seemed as though every single one in the galaxy was above her. With her finger she traced a trail through the air, trying to count them as she did so, but after reaching her favourite star, she stopped. It was brighter than the others, as it had been since her father 'died'. She'd always thought that because the star was brighter than the others, maybe it was her father watching over her.

"Stupid," she muttered, trailing off into a whisper. "So stupid."

Kyra's head fell against the window frame as she clenched her eyes closed, taking deep breaths in. Even though her father disappeared eight years ago, the thought of him still hurt. That empty, dull feeling in her chest was replaced with something she couldn't explain. Anger, confusion, guilt, fear? They were things she rarely felt - actually, she rarely felt anything - but at that moment, she felt them all.

A sharp scraping sound pulled her back to reality. She sat up straight and stared around, trying to find the source of the sound. There was two metres of grass separating the back of the next street of houses from hers. A head popped out of the window directly across from her, familiar and blonde, so close and yet so unreachable that it was almost painful. James. He slid deftly through the window, coming to rest on a charcoal sill identical to hers.

"You mentioned stupid?"

As she looked at him all she felt was overwhelming relief. Kyra expected to feel guilty, maybe even afraid to see him again - how could she not? After all, her choices led to his death - she may not have shot him, but she was the reason he died. Of course, he didn't know about that. Only she knew. But the test opened her mind to thoughts she hadn't considered. James was calm. Too calm. What had he done in his test?
She laughed and shook her head. "You are stupid, but not for the reason I was saying it."

"What was it then?" James' eyes shone in the moonlight as he stifled a yawn, all the while keeping his gaze on hers. It was nice to have his full attention, if only briefly; there was always so much going on in their worlds.

She glanced down at her hand; it was clenched tightly on the window frame, the knuckles white and the fingers tense. "It... it doesn't matter, really."

James' eyes narrowed, but he nodded and remained silent.

"So, you can't sleep either?" she asked, pulling one knee up to her chest and using the other to keep her balanced.

"Not really. It's more like my brain won't shut up. I keep wishing I'd just get zapped."

Kyra looked at him sideways. "Why's that? In case you haven't noticed, the zaps hurt."

James let out a snort. "They only hurt you because you never get them." He smirked at her, as though waiting for the retort he knew was coming, but continued before she could speak. "I don't mind them. They remind me I'm still alive."

Kyra nodded. It made sense. Sometimes her world didn't seem real. Sometimes she felt cut off, and oblivious. Sometimes she felt like an outsider. The zaps were there to remind her of her identity, to tell her that she was Kyra Jackson, eighteen-years-old, a perfect citizen of Arabel.

"One would hope you'd know that by now, based on your illegal activities."

"Hope is generally misplaced." His grin was swiftly replaced by a frown. "So are you going to tell me what's bothering you or do I have to drag it out?" he asked, leaning back against the window frame, his eyes scanning hers in the darkness.

"I'm scared," Kyra admitted. Why she felt more comfortable talking to James than her mother, she didn't know, but either way, she felt no relief letting the words out. It was just a fact that she couldn't stop thinking about or deny, and that made her even more afraid. "And excited and relieved. But above all, scared."

"Why?" James turned his head with a frown.
"Why aren't you?" Kyra shook her head. It wasn't really a surprise - James was never afraid - but the words still shocked her. No one could be completely fearless about everything. No one could be that empty. "Our whole futures are on the line, and if that doesn't scare you, there must be something insanely wrong with you."

Insane. The word repeated itself over and over in her brain. In the rare moments when she didn't have to wear her bracelet, and its effects had worn off, Kyra forgot just how much impact they had on the citizens. She waited for the zap to come, she wanted it too. She needed to be punished. But it didn't come.

"Or something insanely right. No anxiety or fear sounds like a pretty good package to me. But besides, the reason I'm not afraid is because there's no reason to be. I did everything I could, I gave it everything I had, and that is enough. It has to be. And you know that."

Kyra looked at James through her lashes, nodding. Somehow he always knew how to calm her, to get her down from the ledge her anxiety put her on.

"Whatever it is that's bothering you, it can't be me - although it generally is ninety percent of the time. So, instead of insulting me, you should probably just tell me what's wrong. I'm on a very strict sleeping schedule." James yawned and closed his eyes, smiling like a child after hearing the happy ending of a story. "I need at least eight hours in order to be fashionably late in the morning."

Though his words were not harsh or blunt, Kyra still felt guilty. "Don't forget the extra two you need for your hair," Kyra teased, though her voice was distant and her eyes unfocused. James didn't seem to notice; his gaze on her was strong and unwavering as he waited for her to continue.

"What if..." Kyra couldn't say the words. They were practically forbidden. A tremor ran down her spine at the mere thought of them. "What if I don't like my results?"

"Our results are made perfectly for us. We have to like them." His voice sounded bitter, but also slightly relieved. There was no room for failure when your life was perfect.

Kyra's eyes flickered up to his face, but he'd dropped his chin to conceal whatever emotion had flickered across his features. The James she knew was sarcastic and cunning, always making a joke, but in the darkness, away from the peering eyes of their government, he was soft and empathetic, the boy only she had seen and wished he could be more often.

"I don't even know what I want to do tomorrow, let alone the rest of my life. Maybe it will be easier, having my whole life planned out. Maybe it will be better that way."

"There's always an opportunity to retake the test if you aren't happy."

"I know, I just... I'm scared we'll grow apart. Maybe that's for the better, but I-" Kyra stopped. A bright light nipped James' ankle. He slid inside, ducking into the darkness and out of sight.

Kyra wiggled through the small gap under her window and tumbled to the floor, but recovered quickly, and closed the window with a sharp squeak. She crawled forward, keeping her nose level with the window pane as she looked outside. Men dressed in white uniforms loomed out of the darkness, bearing torches and guns as they patrolled the street. The nightly watch had started then. Every night, at the same time, Enforcers stomped around the city.

When her father hadn't been away on missions, he'd loved taking night shifts, so the sight of the men only made Kyra feel worse about the events of the day.
There were hundreds of rules to keep the citizens in line, one of which being that all citizens had to stay inside between the hours of 10PM and 6AM. It seemed harsh, but Kyra had stopped questioning the laws of Arabel long ago; like taking off your bracelet at night, it was just another rule they had to follow, no matter how unfair or strange it sounded.

She'd learned the rules the hard way after sneaking home from James' one night after curfew. The scars from her punishment - three fear endorsing needles, each with a nightmarish outcome - still lingered on her wrist as a reminder. First, she hallucinated; second, she screamed; third, she cried. After that punishment the thought of breaking a law filled her with a sense of dread unlike anything she'd felt before; no one wanted to break a rule after that. No one sane, anyway. Which was probably why James had endured so many punishments, Kyra thought. As much as she loved him, there was a darkness to him, something she didn't quite understand but wanted to more than anything else.

"Kyra?" The voice was muffled by the glass, but the sound of it was so familiar, so James-like, that she didn't even question its origin. She opened the window up a fraction and stayed ducked down in case the Enforcers were still lurking somewhere.

"Yes?" she replied, pressing her back against the wall and curling up into a ball. In that spot, protected from both the cool wind and any possible torch beams, Kyra felt truly safe, something she hadn't experienced in a while.

James hesitated, and as he did so a calm fell over the night. Nothing broke the silence but the sound of Danny's gentle snores, the faint hoot of an owl and the scurrying of insects coming alive for the night. It was almost eerie, the way the world almost stopped just to hear James speak.

"I wish I could promise you that everything will be okay, that I'll always be two metres away when you need to talk to someone and that I'll always be here to say the right thing. I wish I could give you the perfect life you've worked so hard for, but I'm not the person you think I am, I'm not going to be around forever. I'm sorry."

James' window slid shut on silent hinges, emitting a puff of air as it did so. Confused and shivering, Kyra climbed into bed, her mind racing a mile a minute. Why would he say that? More than ever, he sounded like the James from the Vinctures. The James who would rather shoot himself than live in Arabel another day. The thought of a world without James in it was more daunting than the test she'd faced mere hours ago.

Whether he was in her future or not, the thought of spending her life with a stranger made her chest tighten. What if they didn't like her? What if she didn't like them? There were so many things that could go wrong, such as having children and their house and their relationship. But it had worked for everyone else, so it would work for Kyra too. After all, the person they were paired with was supposed to be their equal other. They were supposed to be perfect together. But as Kyra scanned her room through the darkness, her eyes catching on the little things like photos of her and James and the ring he'd given her resting on her chest, she couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she didn't love the person she was supposed to.

No real love, no heartbreak. Kyra guessed, in some cryptic way, it made sense.