I drop the conversation with Elle and turn to the room. More nurses rush out looking terrified.

"What's wrong?" I ask one. She frowns at me.

"The boy woke up. Clearly the drugs haven't taken affect yet. He probably still feels the pain."

My stomach twists. "Is he- will he be okay?" I ask.

She shrugs. "It all depends on-" then she sees my scared face and stops, smiling. "He'll be fine sweetheart. Just has to spend some time in hospital a little bit."

She tries to keep her tone sweet, but it clear she doesn't like children because bitterness creeps in the cracks.

I frown at her and go to say something but she has already ran off. I go into the room just as the nurses are calming down Sorrel.

"Shhh... Calm down. Stop screaming. You're alright." One soothes as he pants.

"It hurts so bad." He groans loudly.

"I know, just wait though. It will go away." The nurse tells him, rubbing his arm softly.

He just continues groaning.

The nurses exchange glances and nod, then the one next to him is passed a syringe which she stabs in his neck. Sorrel lets out a short gasp but then he closes his eyes, silent.

"What the hell! You killed him!" I exclaim, catching the nurses attention for the first time. They stare at me for a moment, the one smiles softly.

"No dear, we just put him to sleep until he calms down. When he wakes up he won't feel the pain, and he'll be a lot more chatty."

I blush, feeling ridiculous. "Oh. Right. "

She shrugs, still smiling. "It's okay dear. Why don't you come back tomorrow night to see him. He should be conscious then."

I glance at Elle and she nods. "Come on Mae. It's almost time to go above."

"Okay. Let's go then."

I take another look at the unconscious Sorrel then frown and follow Electra.

Something was pulling at me. Sorrel was the first person who brought me to the CD, yet even though I didn't know him, I had this deep feeling I couldn't trust him.

Yet I fool myself into thinking that wasn't true. But it so deeply true.

-*-*-

You know those days when you are so hungover you can barely open your eyes?

I didn't either. Now I do.

"Fricking heck." I mutter when I wake. In some impossible way, the hangover has worsened through sleep. My room is eerily silent. I open my eyes, close them, then yet again force them open. The light makes me dizzy and for a moment I think of falling back to sleep. But the clock beside the door displayed the time 10:45 am and I needed to get up.

I slide my feet out from under the covers and examine myself. My clothes stink with alcohol and vomit. The black material is stiff and disgusting. I sigh and pull my shirt and jeans off so I am standing in my underclothes, then drop the clothes down the chute near the chest of drawers that holds Reese and I's clothes. The chute leads down to the white room in which the women's clothes were washed and dried, then distributed back out to the female blacks. You never really got your own clothes back, just different clothes in the same size.

I watch the black clothes stumble down the chute until they disappear, then I sigh, raise a hand to my head, almost vomit down the chute, and turn to get clean clothes. I am just grabbing a clean shirt when I hear the door open behind me. I spin, suddenly aware that I am in my underclothes, my slim, bruised, scarred stomach fully on display.

"Hey Maedana are you awake-" Calix starts quietly, then he spots me.

For a moment we are both just shocked, then I scream at him. "Get out!"

And he sheepishly does so, shutting the door quickly and loudly. I stare at it for a moment, then sigh and quickly get dressed, turning thoughts over in my head as I do. What the heck was Calix doing at my room at quarter to 11?

Once I'm dressed I sit on my bed and pull on the black hiking style boots and tie the laces, tight, almost as though I'm trying to choke my feet.

Then I glance at the door again, frown, sigh, and look away. My eyes find their way to the table beside my bed. All it holds on it is a black lamp and a plain black notebook and pen. Inside the drawer is necessary things like hair shampoo and conditioner, tooth brush and toothpaste, hair elastics, clips and other toiletry items to take with you when you go to the bathrooms.

And then there was a single drawer below that you held any personal items. You wouldn't think I had many 'personal' items. I don't. But that is the drawer where I keep my books. The dustiest is science. I hated it. It's not that it was necessarily bad, it's just that I couldn't find the point in it. If we were stuck in the dome for our entire lives what was the point of learning how things worked outside. Maths I didn't mind as much. The way things fit together, the way you felt when you'd solved a hard equation, that made up for the confusion of all the numbers and rules to remember.

And then there was a single item that I had in there. A conch shell, the outside crusty and grey, but the inside shining, colourful and beautiful.

I didn't know why I kept it. It was pointless, yet beautiful.

I guess I kept it as a point. The outside may be cruel, harsh and barren, yet it was still beautiful. Deadly beautiful.

Someone tentatively knocks on the door and I yet again frown. "Who is it?" I ask, even though I know.

His voice comes through the door, tentative and embarrassed sounding. He was the one that was embarrassed? He wasn't the person that had just been seen almost naked. "It's Calix. Are you- are you dressed?" He asks. I roll my eyes, even though he can't see me.

"Yes."

He slowly opened the door and hesitantly looked in, then saw me, fully dressed, and smiled. I tried not to stare at him and his bright green eyes, and that perfect smile.

"Sorry about that." He mutters quietly

"No you aren't." I reply, rolling my eyes, and he looks awkward for a moment, but doesn't say a thing. "Why are you here?" I ask, pushing on so he doesn't have a chance to reject the idea.

He pauses for a moment, as if thinking about the answer then shrugs. "Glore told me to come."

I raise an eyebrow. "Why?"

He shrugs yet again. "I don't know. He said something about you having a hangover and 'special training day' or something."

I groan. So that's what Glore meant.

I push myself off the bed and walk towards the door where Calix stands, picking up my rifle as I walk.

"Where are we going?" Calix asks.

I look at him, stare at his green eyes for a moment, then look away and mutter, "Away from my bed."

It was supposed to be inaudible but from the way he smirks I can tell he heard. "Do you have your gun?" I ask, pushing away the heat that tries to escape into my cheeks.

He pulls the training shotgun he was given out of his belt. "Yeah."

I look at it and the way Calix holds it like it's the worst object in the world, then I look back at his face and nod. "Okay. Lets go."

I can see from the way he hesitantly follows me out the door that he doesn't want to shoot. Well, tough. When a black you have to deal with stuff like that.

I had learnt to, so now he needed to.

~~~

The indoor shooting range was empty. There was a viewing room and a long range to shoot at different distanced targets. There were also manakin robots that moved around in the range that you could also shoot but only if you changed the system. The light was pretty fancy in the sense that it could change colour and also be dimmed and turned off. There were also laser lights to confuse you and a whole panel of rifles and pistols to practice with.

"Try your own pistol first then move onto a larger one." I instruct Calix. "Once you've mastered that move onto another larger gun. Work your way up to the rifle."

He nods but his eyes filled with uncertainty.

"I'll be in the viewing room. In there are screens which show me every inch of your shot, and in slow motion if I miss something. From there I can coach you through the speakers."

I personally, at that moment, were thankful for the viewing room and its technology, simply because I didn't really want to be around Calix. He was making me uncomfortable.

"If I feel the need I'll come out and give a demonstration, but I'm not going to shoot the gun. That is your job and your job only. And don't forget the kick as you get the bigger guns. Some of them can almost knock you off your feet."

He bites his lip, taking in all I was saying but at the same time not hearing a word.

"Make sure you turn the safety off the gun before you shoot and, well, basically aim only at the target. Oh, and don't expect to hit it the first shot. You need to get used to the gun you're using."

He nods like a confused soldier, as though it's what he's been told to do but doesn't particularly know why.

I sigh. "Just-" I pause, rake a hand through the hair that was still loose after sleeping in it. I had forgotten to redo it before we left. "Just shoot at the target." I finish and Calix nods, numb looking.

I take one last glance at his scared green eyes and then head into the viewing room. There is a panel of button, a set of screens and then the wide bullet proof glass that looks into the shooting range.

I close the door and look out to Calix. He seems dumbstruck, staring at the gun in his hands as though it is some horrifying object, which I guess it was.

I felt slightly bad for him but not much. He needed to learnt to shoot to help the complex. Some voice in the back of my head whispered, some day he might shoot against the complex, but I tried to ignore it, tried to get rid of all thoughts of the CD. Of course, it didn't work. The viewing room kept reminding me of the viewing room in the CD, and Calix telling me - without him knowing - that he cared about me.

I push the thought to the back of my mind and watch as Calix shakily prepares the gun and points it at the target. He pauses, and I can see from the look in his face that he is struggling to pull the trigger.

I sigh. I knew how he felt. He might not be pointing the gun at someone but it was a hell of a struggle to learn when possibly one day you might have to point it at someone.

But finally, he squeezes the trigger and the room is filled with a bang. The bullet is lodged in the target before I can blink. I look at one of the screens and it shows a virtual image of a target, a black dot in one of the blue rings, close to the red.

I look at the target for a moment then to another screen which shows Calix shooting in slow motion. He took the kick fine, quickly readjusting his position after. His legs are evenly spaced apart, his knees the slightest bit bent and his arms loose and relaxed, yet at the same time stiff and fully ready to take he push of the gun.

I stare at the screen, then look at the rest of the footage. The only problem I can find is that he slouches slightly just before he shoots.

I glance through the glass at Calix, who stands as though shooting that single bullet took away all his fear. Almost as though he was faking it all in the first place.

For a moment I wonder, but then I push the thought away.

He was just natural at shooting. It was good for him. He didn't succeed at anything else, so it was good that he could at least shoot.

I suddenly feel ridiculous in the viewing room. I sigh and turn away from the glass, looking back at the screens. I stare at the target for a moment, then decide to go out and speak to him.

As I open the door he turns, his face nervous. "Did I do okay?" He asks. I consider telling him how well he did, but tell myself he didn't need to get overconfident.

"You did fine. But next time, make sure to stand straight as you shoot. And move your aim a little bit and keep it steady. Don't go for the red, go for just beside it."

He nods, looking mildly relieved, although I'm not sure why. He was probably just happy he didn't fail. "Can I try another gun? This one feels too small."

I nod and grab a rifle from the panel. "Here." I say, handing it to him. He takes it and feels it in his hand, takes a deep breath and lifts it, pointing it at the target. "Hold up genius." I say and he drops the gun.

"What?" He asks, confused.

"You have a problem with that gun." I tell him, smirking.

He frowns and starts replying, "No I don't," but then he glances at the gun and stops.

I smile at his sheepish green eyes. "You don't have it loaded."

He nods wearing an embarrassed smile. "Right. Sorry."

I roll my eyes and take the gun, load it and hand it back to him. "Alright. Go ahead, bullet boy."

He nods, takes aim and shoots. The gunshot echoes around the room a minute and I wince. You could see that the bullet hadn't hit the target, as the cushioned wall behind it had been shot.

Calix frowns and before I can say anything, he takes aim again and shoots. This time I don't see where the bullet hits. Curious, I leave Calix's side and return to the viewing room. The screens are the same, replaying his first shot. I type a command into the keyboard and it pulls up the most recent shot. My brain doesn't believe what my eyes are showing me. In fact, it is almost impossible what my eyes are showing me. The screen that shows the target displays the regular target, except instead of the old image, showing the bullet in the blue ring, this image shows the black dot smack bang in the center of the red.

I stare at it, my mouth agape. The door of the viewing room is hanging open and I hear Calix come in enquiring what I'm doing, then he sees the screen and stops, silent. We both just stand there, staring at the screen. Then suddenly a pulse runs through my body and snaps me out of it. I turn to Calix and we both look at each other.

"Calix, you.." I trail off, stunned. "You just shot a bullseye."

He nods.

"It took me almost a month to shoot a bullseye."

He nods yet again, dumbstruck. I frown and look at the screen for a moment, the black dot looming out at me. And for some reason, in that moment, I see a bullet. A bullet in slow motion. But it isn't going towards me. It's going towards a girl who looks eerily similar to someone I knew. Someone I once cared about.

Then the vision is gone, but suddenly a burst of anger overtakes me. I don't know why, it's just suddenly there. It might be because of the hangover or the liquor that was still no doubt coursing through my veins, but I just could suddenly not contain this anger. I push past Calix, mutter something along the lines of, "Keep Shooting," and storm out of the viewing room. As I walk to the door, I grab my rifle and string it over my shoulder.

The anger was taking over and suddenly I realized the source. The complex. It was a sick, and it was twisted, and it was a horrid place.

The anger. It was pulsing through me and I had no idea why or how, but it felt powerful. I subconsciously told myself, stop it, you're being ridiculous, but it was a small voice that was soon overtaken by the anger as well.

My head was throbbing but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that anger. That sudden, uncontrollable anger.

I was leaving the black block, I soon realized. I went down the steps to the lobby which was almost empty, and then went through the door to outside. I swear, I must have still been drunk, because no sober person would ever do what I did, which was storm to a large open pavemented area, pull my rifle off my shoulder, run my hands over the barrel and then shoot. Straight up. At the dome.

The bullets all just rolled off the bomb proof glass, and pinged back to the earth, but the bangs rang through my ears, disturbing the near peace.

I shot until I had no more bullets. Then I dropped the gun, turned and found that there were a collection of whites and blacks dotted around me, staring.

It was then I somehow found sense and realized I was being insane. But it was too late. The damage had been done. All of these people had just openly seen me shoot at the dome. An insane act of defiance. I tried to keep the tears back as I suddenly realized.

That mental, drunken, insane stunt I'd just pulled would not go unnoticed. I, presumably, was about to die.