As soon as he enters his office, my father can no longer restrain his anger. I hasten to close the door behind me.

"I have always wanted to do what is good for you, Kanoa; I only ask you to give me a small delay!"

"I am so sorry, dad, I knew that it was dangerous, but I never thought that it would go this far! All I wanted was to offer us to live as we deserve, like citizens! Instead, I made murderers of us..." I explode, collapsing on his lap.

"Karen came to see me that morning, after vomiting all her guts at the dispensary."

"I am going to turn myself in, Mohamed; I will do whatever it takes because I am going crazy. I feel her near me. She is going to come back until she gets what she wants; she will not leave me."

"I will never endorse what you did. Never, you hear me? But I do not believe for a minute that you deserve what will await you in prison if you come to be brought there... If you even managed to live up to that point. The real culprits in all this are Rachel and Isaac, and I spoke with them. We arranged for Ho-Jin and you a way to leave Freetown as soon as possible. They should have tried to contact you."

"Mohamed, I..."

"Your conscience will never give you the luxury of living in peace again, but you cannot afford to be selfish. Think of Imane and Ho-Jin. Let me take things in hand now. Mr. Salvi will negotiate a trip to Puerto Rico with one of his smugglers..."

"Mr. Salvi?"

"Isaac still makes him believe that his wife is alive. Mr. Salvi offered to escort you in exchange for her release. All this disgusts me too, but we have no choice Kanoa."

I stand up and look him straight in the eye. "You know who I am? You know me well, do you not?"

"Yes, my son."

"Because I am not sure anymore if I am really different from those who bequeathed me this poisonous blood, this murderous blood that runs through my veins."

He takes my left hand, turning the palm toward the ceiling. "You are a slave. A brave slave, the bravest of all indeed, because I know that if it had only been for you, if the consequences had only affected you, you would have surrendered without hesitation, without a shadow of doubt. And also, because you are courageous, you will do what is best for the ones you love, even if it means living in pain. I know how hard you are on yourself on a daily basis; you carry the weight of guilt for crimes you did not commit. I know how the image you have of yourself is disfigured in your mind, how your lack of confidence has always questioned your legitimacy in the face of your enslaved brothers and sisters, but it is you, Kanoa. Far from who your parents were."

He folds his fingers to form half of the infinity symbol, which I complete with my hand. The calm, which I briefly regained this morning, after convincing the Form that I will denounce myself is fading. I plunge into anguish. Confessing could free me from the weight of guilt but would cause my certain death and, in its wake, that of Ho-Jin for sure. And this, this is intolerable to me.

Yet what my father's words promise are the eternal turning of my mind, the fear and the anxiety of the very mechanisms of clandestine migration, in exchange for a false promise of freedom.

Mohamed shows low morale, values at discount because of his love for me, blinding him. I want him to scream, to yell, to struggle, and get angry at me. He is just a man; after all, he has his limits. But this thought scares me more than it disappoints me, because I always assumed that he would be the one who would never trade his believes.

"Since from now on, it can really go wrong at any time; I will need you to know what is really tying me up to the neo-FreeRush movement. I do not know how to tell you this, but... I..."

"Kanoa!" Mayor Gokongwei calls.

"Take the box with the photos on the shelf, bring it to your Mistress."

I obey, still a little in a daze. I do not notice the unease; I cannot bear the shame that resonates in his voice. I am all selfishly focusing on my culpability. Between two thoughts about the night that we commit the murder, I try to grasp the solemnity of this moment, which he is trying to share with me, silently pleading with his eyes. Impossible.

Before leaving the office, he insists one last time.

"Promise me to call Rachel or Isaac. Take care of your brother; he is lost too. You know what he tends to do in this kind of situation."

"I promise that I will do what needs to be done," I whisper, closing the door. My voice is uneven when I lie, Mohamed knows it, and that is why I murmured: I sincerely did not change my mind. I return to the hall where I find Mistress Freeman, Mayor Gokongwei, and the Form of Mistress Salvi. She came back; she is losing patience. Unlike Mohamed, she seeks to persuade me, with her gaze, that only my actions and my decisions regarding the current situation can distinguish me from my parents. It is a test. Either I am not their son now, or I have always been and always will be the worthy carrier of their killer blood.

"I'm sorry for having to interrupt our exchange; my parents must not know that I came. It's a... surprise; I have to be home before them. We're leaving Kanoa."

Mayor Gokongwei has no time to object.

After walking in front of me to leave Freetown, struggling to maintain her pace with her crutch, Mistress Freeman suddenly turns around.

"What was that? What are you playing, Kanoa? We had to go there undercover. What's wrong with you?"

"I thought that it could help us."

"But we discussed it. We can't work together if I can't trust you! Do you think I'm stupid? I don't like being taken for a fool. You're solving those "family problems" with your father!" she yells, throwing the pictures which she collected in my direction. She does not add anything and takes a few steps before turning around again.

"Did I do something you didn't like? From the beginning, I do all I possibly can; I bend over backwards to make you feel good and comfortable, to make sure that you're happy. Do you have a problem with me? I should have trusted my parents when they told me not to invest too much..."

I cannot hold back anymore. I get to her level, breaking the rules, as I am carrying the box of photos. I plunge my eyes into hers.

"Yes, I have a problem. I have a problem with all the Masters who rot my life, who interfere in every aspect of my "existence" if I am even allowed to use such a word. You are lying to yourselves when you talk about equality between you and me: I am not your purgatory or the outlet for your complacency."

It is unfair that my anger is pouring out on her, I am aware of that, but I mean truly every word I speak. Perhaps, I benefit from the thought that I know that she is receptive to what I say, that she is listening, and that she is, despite everything, genuinely sensitive to my condition, although my words hurt her. I keep quiet, noticing some bystanders shooting me dirty looks. Masters raise their voice on slaves — it is a prevalent scene on the streets —, not the other way around. We are making a spectacle out of us, just as risible as the very stereotyped parody on slaves and Masters that novice comedians refer to.

I bend down to pick up the photos from the floor. There is nothing to argue with the fact that a life has been taken away in my hitherto unsuccessful attempt to transcend my condition. I have to pay for it. On the other hand, this hideous society, whose certain residues exist in the bright person of Mistress Freeman, seems to me so unworthy of Ho-Jin's sacrifice, unworthy of the immolation of his dreams to feed an already dead fire.

I start to walk as I feel a new whirlwind in me. As if the torrent of icy water in which I am drowning turns into fiery vapor. My anger does not subside. I am tired of my anxiety, and I am sick of being afraid. However, in this new wave of intense feelings, I still identify the constant guilt that now maybe has to do with Mistress Freeman.

How could I hope to confess my crimes to her? Even she would not understand. The situation cannot go beyond the notions of Masters and slaves, her status, her wealth, and my problems. This brief impression and this illusion of calm in her company is purely superficial. This willingness on my part not to want her to think of me as a bad person is the one against which I fight every day. She is not special; how would she be? I do not know her; she has just shown me that she is no different from other Masters.

Nevertheless, I feel somewhere unfortunate, to have, this time, caused the disappearance of this dancing malice in Mistress Freeman's eyes. If even I have that power. I hear a mocking sneer emerge from the Form. I shake my head; I will not be able to bear it if she takes the voice of my old Mistress too.

I am walking in front of Mistress Freeman when we arrive in front of the building, and also when we take the elevator. She says nothing and does not look at me, which leaves me completely alone and helpless, at the mercy of the Form. The doors open onto the loft; Celeste is firmly waiting for us. Mistress Freeman, without a glance for him, crosses the hall towards the second elevator. Celeste gives me a disapproving look. He sighs, shakes his head, and walks away without understanding. Besides, I search my bag to find the camera and the box of pictures, which I put on the table. I then make sure I am not taking anything else that is not mine. I pull out my phone and found that Ho-Jin called me before leaving me a message in my voicemail. He asks me to join him at Central Park at five o'clock. The watch on my phone shows "ten before five." I then take the elevator again and leave the building without any sort of permission. I thought that I would never come back — the boldest decision underlining, in an audacious antithesis, the life of a subaltern.