DEAR DIARY,

My eighteenth birthday should've been a joyous milestone, but it turned out to be nothing short of a disappointment. I have been looking forward to this day for seven years now. Seven years, and it all fell short. Granted, having a normal life like the other kids was difficult for me. Mama said I had some sensory issues—I couldn't be around loud noises, bright lights, or even wearing bright colors anymore. But it's so difficult when everything around you is filled with gardens, lakes and fancy houses. I get that Mama is protective. I do. But still, she could have at least gotten me a cake with darker colors and a single candle that said 'eighteen.'

But, no. In fact, the only thing I got was a lecture from Mama about how to be responsible now that I am an adult.

This is how my day began. I woke up. I peered outside my bedroom window at the garden. It was green, lush and covered in calorias. Alissa likes them, and planted them in the winter. I knew I was fortunate to live in the West—I heard that people outside don't even have gardens! The West was the best place in Veridonia, and the safest. But, Mama never let me step foot outside. She said that although the West was clean—more so than every other place in Veridonia—safety wasn't guaranteed.

I knew what Mama was referring to—those lucky new entrants into the West. The ones that earned one million units to live here. Mama was always so scared that those new entrants would be dangerous. Some of them had committed crimes to get the units, she said. It wasn't hard to believe, to be honest. Mama said some of them would be willing to hurt others to get the money, and that couldn't necessarily mean they would just stop now that they got into the West.

"Why aren't there stricter laws for that, Mama?" I asked her one day when I was fifteen. The early settlers who managed to scrape the amount of units required were now setting up their homes in here. Mama didn't me outside before that, either. But, after that, she was more vigilant. I would find her sitting in the living room in the middle of the night, and when I asked her about it, she said she was trying to keep me safe.

Mama shrugged. "The Council are working on making them stricter, Ellie. But my mission is different."

Curiosity always plagued my mind. "What do you work on, Mama?"

"My work involves keeping Lord Malakar alive, so that he can make the decisions to rule the country." 

Mama was always cryptic about her work in the Council. It was true that she was quite important; sometimes, other Council members came to their house to discuss top-secret matters. During these visits, I had to stay in my soundproof room with Alissa.

Speaking of Alissa...she is growing up too fast, Diary! She's now getting louder, and throwing more tantrums than she did when she was a baby. It's quite odd—Mama still doesn't like her, but she's literally the only reason I'm still sane in this hellhole of a house. I want to get out, somehow.

Mama can't use the excuse that I'm still a child.

But she is.

Mama didn't even bother to stop and greet me, not like she did for the past seven years, but still. I would've appreciated a small greeting in the morning, but Mama forgot. As usual. I mean, she's withdrawn and sad all the time, ever since Papa left.

I was drawing with Alissa when the mail dropped. We usually didn't receive much mail—it was so old fashioned, and even if someone wanted to address Mama, all they had to do was contact her VeriPad. The VeriPad contained our transactional units, as well as contact information and everything else we needed. So, imagine my surprise when a brown envelope dropped in front of our air-sealed door.

I picked it up, and placed it in the sanitation station. I heard Mama's voice in my head. "You don't know where this stuff has been, Axelle!"

The envelope looked like something vintage, and something out of the pre-War and definitely pre-Death era. I carefully opened it, without ripping the edges. It was a skill of the artisans, and the snoopers. Mama would get me a birthday present every year, and I would pretend to be surprised when she opened it in front of me. When in reality, I carefully opened it the night before, and sealed it back perfectly.

The letter was for Mama—but it was also addressed to me.

Dear Mrs. Melissa Henderson,

This letter is referring to the newly appointed status of your child, Axelle Kylie Henderson, as an adult in the Veridonian Citizenship Council. As of the 145th of Helmancia, your child is hereby allowed to leave the house, gain citizenship benefits, as well as employment in the city. Please, disregard this note if you are already living in the concealed part of the West.

Please note that a signature of yourself or your child is required at the Town Centre Office in the South to indicate his/her entry into the Veridonian Society.

More information will be provided at the time of the signing.

Yours sincerely,

Josh Hawthorne.

Confusion clouded my thoughts when I read this, dear Diary. I was finally allowed to leave the house, but Mama didn't want me to. I knew if I showed it to her, she would go to the signing herself. I had to do this myself.

Next odd thing to happen today was the delivery. We seldom got deliveries to the house and the tall guy with almost-grey hair and a bright smile wasn't helping my suspicion at all. He held up a huge packet that was the same brown as the envelope, and I squinted to see it addressed to Mama but the signature was familiar enough.

Josh Hawthorne.

I nodded to the guy outside, and he pushed the parcel through the small opening between the door that I opened. After sanitizing the parcel, I ripped it open, with less care this time. Mama wasn't going to read these letters.

This time, it was a collection of directions—from my house to the centre—and along with that, Josh had sent over protective facial equipment, not unlike the Verids, but less severe looking. The mask would cover my nose and mouth, while filtering the air that entered through it. I saw those on the TV too. People in the South wore those to prevent the Disease from affecting their immune systems too drastically.

There was also a pair of eye-coverings with them, dark like sunglasses, but still transparent enough to see through them. I was glad for this Josh person. He was making my trek to the Town Centre way too easy for me.

"What's that, Axy?" Alissa asked, looking up from her drawing session. I smiled, and told her it was nothing to worry about. Generally, I would tell her, but this was too important. There was a very slight chance she would tell Mama, maybe by accident, or just a slip of the tongue and I didn't trust her to keep the secret. She was just too young for that.

My vision started to blur as the bright sunlight filtered through the transparent windows, and I wanted to scold Alissa for opening them. She knew how light affects my eyes, but I was too happy to do that today. I could be going outside very soon.

I packed both the letter and parcel carefully into each other and took it up to my bedroom. I hid them in my trunk of diaries—Mama would never touch those. She said it was important for me to have my privacy in what I write. The letter would be safe there. Unless, Alissa decided to root through the things.

Mama came home earlier than usual today, and I was almost waiting for her to ask me about the letter. I had expected her to know all about the signing, of course. She did work at the Council, but she didn't say a word. She wordlessly went to her room, and brought out my birthday present, like she has done for the past seven years. She handed me the notebook—I knew it was a notebook—and gave me a dark-blue wrapped package which was definitely the writing stationery I've wanted for a long time.

She went to the kitchen to cook something.

You know, dear Diary, I really did miss Mama from before the Death. She was more cheerful, and Papa was there. When Papa was there, we were all happy as a family. Sure, they had their disagreements, and arguments. But, we were all together, and happy. We went on holidays, we laughed till our bellies hurt, we went flower-picking.

Nothing happened anymore. This was no exaggeration. Nothing happens in the house. With Papa's departure, the happiness also left the house. We became shells of our former selves, and Mama lost everything that made her happy. Nothing I said ever brought her back.

"I have to go the Council by zero in the morning, Axelle," Mama said, her voice as monotone as ever. "Tomorrow's a busy day. So, stay safe inside and write or watch the TV. Make sure you don't open the door for anyone, okay? And, what's the number one rule?"

"Don't go outside." I had this phrase ingrained into my mind, and it was a motto, according to Mama. It was the motto I had to live by, and it was exhausting. I smiled and nodded as usual, reassuring her that I would never open the door, or go outside but my mind was elsewhere. The brown envelope and the instructions were juggling around in my mind, and it became the only thing I could think about.

Mama needn't say anything else—I knew what I was doing tomorrow. I had plans to make.

That's all the news I have for today, and I'll be back tomorrow to tell you all about the adventure! Wish me luck.

Yours always,

Axelle.