Insurrection

/ˌinsəˈrekSH(ə)n/

noun

a violent uprising against an authority or government

It was a few weeks after that day that Moira and I were sitting in the open expanse of a field and discussing my inwardly hidden problems. While Calum understood why he wasn't the first person I would go to about my problems due to his previous breakdowns and me not wanting to cause him any more stress, he still seemed a bit upset at my decision to utilize therapy under Moira instead of him.

However, Moira was kind and gentle, always willing me to talk to her about the more aggressive things within my life such as my captivity and losses of friends. While that wasn't how we began our therapy session, by a few weeks in we had began to hit those major discussion points and it was refreshing to have her within the room.

Moira wasn't at the colony during the time of all of this drama, whereas Calum was, which sometimes caused animosity to build when we discussed the topic since he had his own feelings about it that showed when the sore subject came up. Calum was never harsh about it, but when he got the chance to interject, he definitely made sure to emphasize how much it had affected everyone.

Not that it was a bad thing that Calum wanted me to realize it, in all honesty it put things in perspective; however, when I spoke to Moira, she seemed to have a bit more sympathy for my post traumatic stress. Beyond even those minor things that happened to me almost two years prior, Moira held a mild temper, something I knew Calum never possessed.

"So how did you feel about yourself when you realized that your parents were the ones who had tortured you?" Moira asked, taking precautions as I looked at her with a stoic face and a hidden expression. Truthfully, I didn't know how I would explain the feeling to Moira because all my life had been about trying to appease the status quo.

Even when I was just living my life and had no clue of who I was, I was providing the government a way to carry on without the hassle of two of its leaders being tormented for the rest of their lives by angry civilians. So when Moira asked me how I felt about that, I wasn't sure how I should have responded.

My eyes finally met hers, seeing her eyebrows furrowed around her crystal blue eyes as she took in my defeated posture. I knew that I probably looked like a lost cause; however, I knew that the only reason I looked as horrid as I thought I did was because I saw no way that this life I had been living would ever bring me out of the twilight zone I had been stuck within for the past few years.

"I felt like a pawn," my voice finally made out as I stared into Moira's eyes that appeared to have a look of confusion and surprise filling them completely at the sound of my voice which had been silent all of that day due to my ever present thoughts about the rebellion that was starting to grow more fanatic within the colony.

"Like I was just some piece within their giant chess game and, for whatever reason, I was never permitted to win," I let out, taking deep breathes as I tried to control my anger in a way that was not through drunken rampages or screams that echoed throughout the wooded area.

This wasn't like a normal therapy session as I had come to find. Moira held no notepad and did not follow every question with, 'and how does that make you feel?' She was very practical and only asked questions to clarify or to get me talking. Despite the previous question being based upon emotion, the largest part of our time together was spent talking about the experiences alone.

"I was kept in a prison cell and told when I was allowed to eat, drink, go to the bathroom, and sleep," I spoke bitterly, taking in the look covering her face as I told her of my parent's depravity. Even though it was unimaginable to go through such a thing, Moira's face always looked reserved as though she knew I did not want her pity.

That was the best thing about Moira. She knew when she was allowed to interrupt my rants and tell me that we needed to move on without cutting me off from some big revelation. The mocha colored girl always kept her mouth closed when it was my turn to speak about my past and her thoughts to herself until I asked her what she felt about my own.

So as we sat in the field, staring off at the sun that was covered by the trees surrounding us, I described the room and its musky odor. I told her about the methods of torture with details concerning how each one worked to break my spirit further and further until not a sliver remained within my body.

"I got to the point that I just stopped caring," I told her, receiving a shocked gasp from her in response to my blunt statement. "I would go into the room and talk to myself, kind of like a pep talk," I explained, remembering the way I would remind myself of things to make me happy and distract me in the first days of my torture.

"As I started losing hope, I started reminding myself that they couldn't do anything else to me if I was dead," I mumbled under my breath, looking down at the ground as I felt my entire heart break apart. I did not want to see Moira's face in that time, I didn't want to see the disappointment that was sure to cover her fear stricken face.

Instead, I was greeted with a hug from her that encompassed my entire body with peace. "I am so glad that you didn't," she whispered into my ear, causing me to smile and hug her back in response. Little did she know that I had tried so hard to die just to prove that I wouldn't be a piece in their game; however, the only reason I was still alive was because they had saved me.

They had saved me in some cruel way that was only meant to make me their test experiment for a little bit longer. Although I wanted to die and there was no way for them to save my decimated spirit, they had saved my physical frame and continued to test it to its limits while I prayed every night for freedom, even if it was through death.

That was when I noticed him. A young man, probably only a year or two younger than I was, approaching Moira and I . Under normal conditions, I would shrug off his appearance as most teenagers wanted to have some time in the fresh air after being cooped up in the colony for so long; however, he was a different breed of scary.

The way the boy walked was off putting as he went about with a strange aura about him. His all black clothes hung loosely on his frame unlike any of the black clothes Luke or his friends normally wore which were all very skin tight. His hair did not appear to be combed as the disheveled appearance was noticeable even at the long range that we were at.

"Moira," I spoke, trying to keep my voice even as my eyes refused to leave the boy's frame in fear that he would attack when I was least expecting. "I need you to run," I told her slowly and quietly, causing her to react at the most inopportune time in a fit of rage and blame me for not wanting to confide in her about my past.

"You know, you can't just continue running from this Melissa," she spoke harshly, gritting her teeth as she continued rambling about how much effort and time this took her to work out our 'therapy' sessions. Meanwhile, I was staring off into the boy's direction, noticing every strange thing about his facial features and his stride.

He was a brain from what I could tell as his body was lanky due to his underweight structure combined with his tall frame. His blonde hair was blown in every which way and appeared to be quite greasy, indicating that he had not showered much recently- which I found to be odd because the colony had open showers in every residency for that purpose.

As I considered what could have happened in his room to end this showering privilege, my entire body went cold. Recently, there had been no storm surges or any other type of conduct to end the piping system throughout the colony since everything after the bombing which had killed Riley had been replaced.

However, I vaguely recalled Luke running the idea of shutting off the rebels water as a way to deter them from fighting against his reign. Luke said it would only be temporary, and it had been only for a day, but the rebels took it a step farther and said that they refused to shower because of his act. Which, as I looked at him, only made me think of one conclusion.

My hand gripped Moira's arm as I stood quickly, never losing sight of the young man as we stood from the ground and I pulled her behind while we ran through the woods. Moira protested the whole time, not understanding the complexity of the situation until it was too late and the young boy was chasing after us, clearly having been militarily trained for this since he ran faster than Luke.

"Stop," the blonde boy screamed, a gun firing a round into the tree beside my head as he noticed than we were not going to listen to his pleas. Moira let out a strangled cry as she realized what I had already come to accept: we were being followed by a rebel and he was trying to kill us.

"Step away from each other!" he called out as he stalked further toward us. Despite my back still being turned to him, I could tell by the crunching of leaves that he was headed toward us in a quick fashion that only made my heart palpitate quicker within the confines of my chest. "I mean it," he said again, causing Moira to step away from me quickly and turn around with her hands up.

"Please don't kill me," she began pleading with tears marring her face. I rolled my eyes at her antics; however, I recalled my first time being faced with a gun and not knowing what to do other than to beg for my life. But now I knew to never give the person that satisfaction as it only boosted their ego and need to kill you.

"I'm not here for you," he said in a strong voice that was unrecognizable compared to the previously whiny and immature tone he used to shout after us. "I'm here for a Melissa Jennings." His raspy low tone caused my insides to flip as I considered that this may be a whole other person, but when I turned around to find the child still, I was relieved and no longer fearing my life.

"What can I do for you?" I asked him calmly, crossing my arms over my chest as he held his gun up as though he thought I would hurt him. With one eyebrow raised in his direction, I found myself oddly amused with his willingness to point a gun at a human being. Granted, I knew that Luke had gone on raids at the age of thirteen, I still thought of him as a special case.

His gun slightly moved up to be aimed even with my head. The blonde's hands were shaking as he attempted to calm himself before pulling the trigger; however, it didn't work as he mumbled out a few rushed curses and found himself placing two hands upon the revolver as opposed to the only necessary one.

"Listen, I'm sure that I can work out whatever problem you have with me," I told him, raising my hands as tried to close the gap between, only to hear a loud shout fill the void as he told me to stop.

"Do you think I won't fucking shoot you because I will!" he screamed, the veins in his neck protruding as I calmly raised my hands as Moira had only minutes beforehand. "Because I swear to God that I will pull this trigger and make sure you die like you deserve!" His screams shook my core as I nodded slightly at him, thinking that this really was it for me.

"I can help you," I whispered quietly, tears beginning to fill my gray eyes as I watched the revolver reposition to shoot for my head. Internally, I was battling my flight instincts as I took in the fact that if he pulled that trigger, I would be done for; however, as I tried to negotiate with him, he only became more hysterical, which made me fear leaving Moira behind.

All my head could process were the words 'do not move' as I stared blankly at the revolver's hole and prayed to God that it was empty or a blank within it. Judging by the boy's frame, anger, and hesitation though, it was not a blank and he was most definitely a rebel within the colony. Even though I knew they were after me, I never thought that this would be the way I would die at their hands.

"Melissa Jennings," he recited off, still shaking from the anticipation of placing a bullet through my skull. "You have dishonored the colony by bringing yourself, a pure bred White Coat into the facility," he called out, his voice slightly quivering as he most likely took in the fact that these words of his, these recited words, would be my last.

"With this in mind, it is the job of the Resistance to cleanse our fine colony of your ties with the horrid government." If it had not been for the gun pointed to my head at that moment, I would have started laughing at his attempt to appear tough while he was clearly freaking out about this small task he was assigned to do.

Yes, I thought this was small as Luke had been assigned such a task when he was merely fourteen years old, which means that this child had not been trained for this. This blonde haired boy before me was not soldier and should not have been doing this. He should not have had to bear the knowledge that he killed me.

"Any last words?" the boy finally asked. Despite the large distance between, probably measuring to be about five hundred yards, I could see the perspiration dripping from his face as though he were the one about to die, and I knew that in a way he was about to die too. He was about to kill his innocence.

"You shouldn't have had to do this," I told him in a wavering voice as I stood still before him, knowing that my chances of him shooting wrongly were better than my chances of running away or moving at the last moment. "And I'm sorry that you had to," I continued on, finally allowing a tear to stream down the side of my cheek.

That was when there was a loud pop followed by a buzzing sound filling my mind as I heard the very distant screams of Moira fill the air. I did not internalize the scampering away of feet, but as the rebel did not attempt to finish the job, I assumed that he ran off, not bothering to harm Moira in the process. All I could think as I felt warm blood seep from my skull was that I was going to die out here.

It was like a thousand of bees flooding into my brain as I heard the ringing continue while I tried to push the sound out of my mind as much as I could. The sound alone made me want to die as I grew particularly annoyed with the thought of bees fluttering around me; however, as I caught view of Moira's face above mine, I found myself trying to speak.

Only gurgling sounds came out as Moira nodded, looking as though she could understand me. I was internally praying that I was making more sense to her than I was to myself in that moment as I tried to tell her that she needed to get Luke. Nothing really registered into my mind as I felt my eyes grow weary and droop.

"Melissa, stay with me!" Moira screamed, still not touching my body due to the bullet probably being wedged partially into my skull. I mentally commended myself for remaining in the same position as if I had moved then I would have died instantly. Nevertheless, her voice was growing fainter as I recognized another voice sounding in the distance.

"What the fuck happened?!" Calum screamed as I saw his face come into view, my eyes blinking a few times as he tried to look at the wound only to be prevented by the amount of blood coming from the wound. I felt my eyes try to roll back; however, I fought the feeling in order to improve my condition as consciousness was the most important thing.

"She was talking like two minutes ago," Moira cried, walking away from me only moments later with a hand covering her mouth. After moving a suitable amount away, her guts spilled onto the leaf covered floor of the tree filled area. I couldn't blame her for that as I had done the same thing with Riley only two months earlier.

"Stay with me Melissa," Calum kept repeating as I fought the feeling of tiredness overcoming my petite figure; however, as I heard another figure approach, my body began to give way to the feeling of drowsiness. "Shit!" That was all Calum could yell as he let go of my wrist that was trying to get a pulse only moments before I had given up my fight.

"Melissa!" the blonde haired boy's voice called as I noticed the love of my life by my side just moments before I lost consciousness. However, as I saw his face for what I thought to be the last time, I took in how different his features were from when we had met. If that was what my last moment on Earth would be, I wanted to remember everything about him.

I wanted to remember how he went from being young and beautiful to sexy and ruggedly handsome. My mind was gripping onto the little parts of our past that I could remember off of the top of my head, which was ironic due to the bullet's position.

I wanted to remember the only person I had been intimate with, the only person that I had told all of my secrets to, the only person that had been willing to protect me even when I was wrong, the only person that could make me laugh at nothing in particular, and the only person that I felt that I was letting down as my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

Luke was my miracle that I wanted to bask in for the rest of my life; however, as I lost consciousness for the first time in forever, I felt my heart break into a thousand pieces on the leaf covered ground. I was leaving my savior, my boyfriend, my other half, my best friend, and my love.

I was leaving my Quiffie.