Ayame pulled at her school vest in a feeble attempt to wrap it tighter around her chest. The air was biting and gnawing through to her bones now that the sun had set, but that wasn't why she was shivering.

This was fear.

It was nearly ten p.m. and yet here they were, in a stupid park two sectors away from her home. The siren would sound any second now and all twenty teenagers would drop the bravado they'd put on. All of them would scarper back home with their stupid metaphorical tail between their stupid bottoms.

She would have run long before if she had a choice. This wasn't bravery, it was idiocy.

Ayame glanced around the group of students she sat amongst. Her eyes settled on a wiry boy with brown hair and green eyes; Pierre-her best friend, and hopefully tonight, her saviour. Or he would be if he bothered looking up at her instead of whatever blade of grass seemed more important to him. If anyone could hear the fear and panic that welled up within her, it was Pierre. It was exactly why she had wanted to sit beside him, but stupid Steve had better ideas.

No, why should the three of them sit together now that he was suddenly a celebrity? As long as Steve's stupid butt was the centre of attention, he didn't really care about anyone else. If he had cared, he wouldn't have hogged Pierre all for himself. If he had cared, he wouldn't have been egging twenty sixteen-year-olds to protest against the government this openly.

They were going to end up on the gallows, all of them.

Ayame felt sick, she was just a student-a normal citizen in a normal sector. She should never have agreed to be a part of this conspiracy. The only reason she did was because she had thought Steve was her friend. Friends supported each other. But at what cost?

"So tomorrow," Steve continued boisterously. Coward. He had anonymity. He sat snug in the centre of the circle her classmates had formed around him. No one would see him, "tomorrow we'll head to the Edge and we'll make our mark. Are you all with me?"

Whispers of agreement echoed across most of the students. The ones that didn't agree were Ayame, Pierre and a black girl with dark voluminous curls. Ayame was glad to see that Pierre, at least, wasn't one of them. His eyes, like the rest of his face, were blank, almost apathetic as he continued plucking grass. But she knew him too well; this wasn't indifference, it was anger-the kind he couldn't express in front of everyone else.

"We'll play this smart," Steven Byrne added, running a hand through his blond hair as he caught her eye. Ayame looked away, she wasn't Pierre, so her anger was far more obvious. Right now everything was more interesting than Steve's stupid face, even the crooked tree in the distance, which she decided to pointedly stare at. She wasn't sure if he had noticed, because he was still talking, "tonight, we'll all be back on time before the sirens. The real ploy happens tomorrow. Remember your excuses everyone, and remember, we're unbeatable when we're one."

"Unbeatable when we're one," rang the collective whisper, and immediately, the students began to disperse.

Ayame stood up, it was time to run now. Run before the sirens rang and the stars descended. Run before it was too late and she wouldn't live to see tomorrow.

"I think we did quite well, don't you?"

She shot Steve the dirtiest look she could muster. So now she was worth talking to? Now Mr Popular thought it was okay to walk up to her and ask for her opinion? All day she had been begging him to cancel this stupid meeting, this doomed effort to rebel against the monsters that lived on top of the hill.

He hadn't listened to her then. No, back then he had explicitly said she was far too brainwashed to understand the importance of his actions. Now that he'd had his ten minutes in the spotlight, she was finally worth his time?

"Out of my way." Pierre nearly shoved past Steve as he made his way to her. He ignored the 'Hey!' that their mutual friend sprouted too, opting instead to take Ayame's hand. "It's fifty-nine," he told her and she had to swallow back bile as her stomach lurched uncomfortably, "don't let go of my hand. We can make it back before the second siren."

Ayame nodded, throat too tight to speak. Her wrist had begun to tingle, but not because of her nerves. The black band on her wrist was glowing and vibrating. It was nearly curfew and she wasn't home. The band knew. The stars would know too.

"What about me?" Steve turned from one to the other, seemingly unaware of their very obvious rage, "what the hell is it with both of you?"

If it wasn't literally one minute until curfew, she would have told him exactly what her problem was. Why his stupid little fan club was the worst idea in the history of this kingdom, and how she wished she had never met him.

He had sentenced them all to death with his stupid surface ideologies. His ridiculous notions of privacy and unrestricted speech didn't work in their underwater kingdom, the law here was the law of the king. The exalted king in his extravagant golden palace on the towering hill above them. He was their benevolent ruler, their saviour and this kingdom was a gift.

If you wanted to live, you followed the law, you idolised it. Steve was an idiot from the surface that just couldn't understand this. There was also the fact that each of them had a band on their wrist. A little beeping bit of technology that told the people above them exactly where they were at any time during the day. His plan would fail miserably tomorrow.

Ayame squeezed Pierre's hand as tightly as she could, "I'm ready." Steve could make his own way home tonight.

And they ran, past the crooked tree and out of the park. They had barely made it to the centre, just on the granite path at the foot of the imposing green hill when the first siren rang. A long, booming warning that drowned every other sound in the city except her thudding heart.

They had exactly five minutes now, five minutes to get back home before the second siren sounded. Five minutes until the stars descended.

Ayame could feel her hand slipping out of Pierre's, she wasn't sure which of them was sweating, but the thought of slipping out of his grasp and onto the floor made the bile rise back up her throat again. What if she fell and he didn't stop for her? What if the stars descended and he couldn't stop for her?

Her chest hurt with every short, dry breath she heaved in as they ran on. They had just turned into the cobblestone road, off the granite circular path, when her hand slipped out with a wet squelch.

No!

Her heart stopped. The world slowed down. Her feet didn't seem to register the sudden change of pace and she tripped. Ayame's shoulder was the first to collide with the pavement. She rolled the wrong way, skidding and scraping the cobblestone path with her.

And then the second siren sounded.

No no no no. This wasn't happening. She didn't want to die. She didn't even get to say goodbye to her mother.

Ayame was yanked back onto her feet, she caught the look of fear plastered on Pierre's face, it may as well have been a mirror. He was saying something that she couldn't make out over the deafening siren. But he didn't give her time to react. He tugged her arm first and they ran once again.

She was too terrified to look up, the stars would be getting bigger now, closer. They'd sprout eight long legs to snatch away the rule breakers soon enough as well.

However, if Pierre thought they still had a chance then she was going to blindly follow him, much like she had done most of her life. So she ran once again, following the path as it split into a narrower alley with double-storeyed houses on each side.

Number 17.

Odd houses on the right, even on the left. They just had to run past eight houses and she would be safe. Ayame counted the houses in her head, seven, six, five...

Blinding lights had begun to surround them now. Something inhuman was clicking by her ear, she could hear metallic scuttling behind her too.

They were closing in.

Ayame shut her eyes as they scraped the back of her vest.

Please, please! She didn't want to die.

Ayame was weightless, she could tell she was being lifted. It was over. They'd caught her. There was no point in opening her eyes now, all she would see was the blinding white.

Pierre let out a strangled cry from below and she felt a tug on her legs. Was he still trying to save her instead of himself? That was a stupid thing to do.

Four pairs of black, metallic, claw-like legs wrapped themselves tighter around her. This was one star. One star that had caught her and wasn't going to let go. Her leg was jerked down again, painfully. If the two of them didn't stop soon, she would be ripped in half.

The star gripped her tighter until it broke through her skin. Ayame let out a short shriek. The pain was new. Unfamiliar. Nauseating.

And then she was falling.

She wasn't sure how far she fell, but Ayame landed on her bottom so hard she would have split the bone if she was any ordinary girl. She was hauled right back onto her feet before she could get her bearings, and even before she could stop seeing the eye floaters, she was running again.

Ayame really had no idea where they were running this time. She could barely see Pierre in front of her as he dragged her with him. Most of her vision had been obscured by the splotches of grey floaters that kept drifting around her sight. She could still feel his grip on her wrist though, and as tight and uncomfortable as it was, it was proof he was real.

When Pierre finally screeched to a sudden halt, she wasn't worried, she was relieved. She had recognised her house before they reached it. Even though it was identical to every other house in the sector, she knew.

But Ayame didn't dart inside as Pierre did. Now that she was no longer running and her vision was clear again, she'd come to realise how dark and empty the whole alley was. The silence was deafening.

"Mei, get in!"

She was pulled indoors before she could say another word, into the dark house with the peeling paint and mouldy ceiling. And Pierre slammed the door shut behind them, turning the lock twice for extra measure.

"Where did they go?" Ayame wondered aloud. Why, should have been her question. Why would they drop her and leave? They were sophisticated, intelligent drones. They wouldn't just drop her and scoot off. They would carry her to the palace on the hill, to be executed. She had broken the law and worse she had gotten caught.

"Are you seriously questioning our luck?" Both of Pierre's eyebrows went up as he strode over to her and took her arm.

"I'm okay!" Ayame snatched her arm back, he was acting like he had forgotten she could never get hurt. Besides, she was mad at his naive optimism right now. He was wrong and gullible. Problems didn't just go away, not when the stars were always watching. They knew what she looked like. Would they send that information to the palace? Would a person be sent down to arrest her tomorrow? She felt sick again, why couldn't she just have stayed indoors like her mother always asked her to?

Wait a minute!

Ayame spun around the living room, dark and empty other than her and Pierre. She rushed into the kitchen next, also empty. A different kind of dread enveloped her. She pushed away the what-ifs that kept plaguing her mind. She couldn't imagine the worst, no way. Everything was going to be okay.

"Mei, will you stop running for two minutes?" He sounded irritable, and if she hadn't been so frazzled herself, she would probably have sat down to tell him why. But at the moment, there was no calm. There was only one horrible sinking emotion that was tearing her apart.

"Where's-"

Pierre had snatched her arm back with a chiding "Shh!"

She was furious now, she almost always was, but this time more because he was worrying about the needless. If he stopped making sure she was okay for ten seconds and listened to her, he would know that she was so close to having a panic attack because her mama wasn't home. And unlike Ayame, her mother could bleed.

She wrested her arm back, "I can't get hurt!" she snapped as she grabbed the first blade within reach, a pair of scissors, "do you need a reminder? Because I will slit my wrists open to prove a point and the wound will close before they bleed. My mother isn't home, Pierre! I think that that's a little more important!"

"Mei put the scissors down." Pierre didn't sound worried, angry or even frightened. His arms were crossed but his voice betrayed no emotion. He was so calm that it aggravated her. "Stop shouting," he continued, "it's past curfew, we're not supposed to be awake." He was right, of course he was. They weren't allowed to stay awake after curfew. It was why they hadn't bothered switching the lights on. They couldn't risk the stars descending on her house.

"Now," Pierre began with a small breath, "you bled, Mei. " He took off his own red sweater vest to reveal a splatter. That wasn't his blood, it was too dark. Pierre, like her mother, had bright red blood. Her own was always dark. "I'm sure it's already healed, but I just want to make sure nothing healed wrong, okay?"

He took her arm the umpteenth time, and for the first time, she didn't resist. His panic made a little more sense now, Ayame didn't bleed. She couldn't get hurt if she tried, but her issue was more important. "I can't find Mama." She couldn't breathe again, "What if she went out looking for us?"

"No," he said just as calmly, moving from her arm to her jaw now.

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"Aunt Xiao is one of the smartest people I've met." Pierre took a step back as if he was done inspecting her, his voice and demeanour were still as composed as ever, "She'll be fine. If anyone is in trouble, it's my Maman, especially since no one's with her."

"Why?" Ayame felt like a complete ass now. His mother was ill, but that's exactly why they had made sure she was never alone, "Charlotte was supposed to-"

"No one stays past curfew," Pierre was straining to maintain composure, and Ayame was beginning to think he wasn't as calm and collected as he was pretending to be, "I hoped that Aunt Xiao would bring her here before giving us the bollocking of our lives, but she's not home either."

They would have deserved the bollocking, they'd left a sick woman alone in a house after curfew. And for what? To support a stupid friend that didn't understand how dangerous his actions were. Was the door locked? Would she be safe? Would she accidentally wander out looking for Pierre?

"What do we do then?" Ayame peered out the kitchen window. Pierre lived right across from her. It wouldn't take that long to cross the road.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Pierre yanked her back, he was definitely not calm anymore. Between his short breaths and flared nostrils, he looked pretty mad. "We barely survived getting here! You want to go for round two?"

"But your mother-"

"Will have no one if I die tonight," he declared as if ending the conversation. His eyes kept darting to the window regardless, "she'll be fine, she has to be."

"What do we do then?" Sleep? Wake up and go back to school like nothing had happened?

"Change into something else and find food." Pierre massaged his temple as he spoke, "I'll wash our uniforms for tomorrow before the overlords realise we're awake."

"You can't use the washer," Ayame reminded Pierre. They were supposed to be asleep, it was the law.

Pierre nodded, "You can't use the stove."

"Or the fridge," she realised as she stared at the translucent refrigerator in their kitchen. They didn't really own anything in the house. Everything they possessed was a gift from their benevolent king. Every citizen in the city of Lichtma was given a fully furnished place to stay. They were given their monthly rations of power, food and water. Clothes were a little more complicated, the frequency of new clothes depended entirely on how old a citizen was.

It sounded perfect. It sounded like utopia.

The truth was much darker. In return for the gifts, all citizens were required to obey the law to the letter. Breaking the law was punishable by death. The law stated you slept at ten and woke up at five in the morning. The law also stated that you went to school until you turned eighteen, after which time you had to prove you were an integral part of society. That meant she only had two years to choose a career and be good at it.

Pierre was lucky, he already knew that he wanted to be a doctor and he was good at it. He was smart and calm, stern when he needed to be and empathetic otherwise. The perfect concoction to make a perfect healthcare professional.

Ayame had no idea what she wanted, she wasn't good at anything. She wasn't smart like Pierre or compassionate like her mother. Her mother, who had devoted her life to the sick and disabled. A carer was the perfect career for a woman like her.

But she was nothing like her mother. She was snappy, irritable and always so clumsy and irrational. If it wasn't for her inability to get hurt she would have accidentally set off a bear and gotten herself killed a long time ago. Not that there were any bears underwater.

If there was one thing she was good at, it was fighting. Physically, Ayame had more meat than her mother, she was taller too. While her mama was a stern, skinny middle-aged woman, she-like Pierre-was a wiry teenager. She was, however, much paler than her mother. In fact, she was probably paler than most of mankind, and it didn't help that her hair was just as white or that her eyes were an unnaturally bright blue.

The only bit of herself that Ayame liked was the bit she had the freedom to choose, her hairstyle. She wore them in a side-swept wavy bob. The most important part of this hairstyle was its ability to conceal her forehead.

There was a reason her blood was darker than the others, a reason she never got hurt, and that reason was hidden safely away under her hair. It was also the reason she and Pierre had decided to keep their mouths shut while Steve raved on like an idiot. It was why they hadn't just got up and left in the middle. If the class had divided and clashed, Ayame would have gotten caught in the crossfire. Everyone would bleed and bruise but her, and her secret would be out. This was a secret she intended to take to the grave.

Ayame found a few protein bars in the pantry, they may not have been very filling, but it was better than starving. She tossed two towards Pierre before she made her way up to the toilet to change into her pyjamas.

Like the rest of the house, it was small and poorly maintained. Every faucet was linked to a digital glass panel on the adjacent wall. As ingenious the technology was, it ensured that they weren't allowed to use the sink past ten. Good thing she wasn't thirsty.

Ayame had barely taken off her top when she noticed the sticky dark red substance clotting just under her ribs.

Crap! So she had bled.

She wiped it away with her school shirt, the skin had healed underneath but judging by the state of the shirt, she'd bled quite a lot. How had she not noticed it? Ayame turned to the glowing panel beside the shower. She wanted to wash it off so desperately, but she was supposed to be asleep.

No, it wasn't worth the risk. She could always shower in the morning.

Ayame made her way back down to her best friend who was sitting in the middle of the kitchen in a pair of grey pyjamas with a scrubbing brush and their emergency-water bucket. An assortment of items was spread around him, she could see vinegar, soap and cornstarch but there were other boxes too.

"Can't get the blood stains off?" she assumed as she sat beside him, if he had problems with the tiny specks of blood on his shirt, he was in for a surprise.

Pierre shook his head, "I've tried everything." He motioned towards the variety around him as he dropped his shirt in the bucket with a long sigh, "Maybe I should let it soak overnight and use the washer tomorrow."

"You might want to pop this in too," Ayame suggested as she produced her own bloody shirt for him, "I'll need to mend it in the morning," she added, it had been ripped quite brutally from one side.

"I knew it," Pierre hissed and he began scrubbing the stains on her shirt with the brush, "I told you."

She didn't respond, it was a little pointless to agree with him. He'd start acting like her overprotective friend instead of the one she needed by her side right now. She was also exhausted and starving, and her wrist was nagging her.

Ayame rubbed the skin under the band, it was tingling again. There was no way she could mask her heartbeat to make it seem like she was sleeping. The band knew and it was warning her.

"Let's just go to bed." She extended an arm to help Pierre up. He wiped his hands off his pyjama bottoms before grasping her arm. Ayame was glad that he didn't argue with her. His wrist must have been nagging him too.

"I'll take Aunt Xiao's room."

"Obviously." She was never giving up her room, he was her friend not her king. Even if her mother had been home, she would have popped a sleeping bag for him somewhere.

"I wish we could pretend to be sick," Pierre grumbled as he rubbed his wrist. She could hear their bands vibrating now. She knew what he meant though. Staying in tomorrow instead of facing Steve again sounded easier.

"I wish I could get sick," Ayame responded in turn.

She ignored Pierre's sympathetic smile as she made her way to her room and onto her bed. It wouldn't be too long until she fell asleep, she was so tired.

Ayame found herself wondering why the stars had dropped her once again. It felt like a dream. The entire night did. Her mind wandered to Steve and how he would have reacted if she had just said no at school yesterday. It wasn't hard, but it had seemed like such an awful thing to do at the time.

Was it because she was so different? Was she afraid of losing his friendship? She didn't care anymore though. Not after what she had just been through. Tomorrow Ayame was going to tell him how she really felt about his stupid protest, and if it cost them their friendship then so be it.