Page 30 of Everything Under the Sun

THAIS

I remained on my knees, sobbing into my hands, thinking only of my sister and what was to become of her. I cared little for myself anymore, knowing that no matter which man I would become prisoner to, that it would all end the same way: I would do what my mother did all those years ago and end my own life if I had no other way out.

“Escort these two to the room across from mine,” I heard Atticus order. “Stay with them until I get there.”

Another soldier stepped forward in front of me; he was of average height and average build with boring, average brown hair and an average-looking face, though set within it was a pair of the brightest, greenest eyes I had ever seen.

“Yes, sir.” The green-eyed soldier nodded once and reached for me.

“I’m begging you!” I cried, my voice becoming hoarse. “I can’t leave my sister! She’s not well! P-P-Pleeeeassse!”

The green-eyed soldier took hold of the rope. Letting all of my weight drop, I fell to the concrete again, scraping both knees on my way down, and I refused to budge. With my knees bent beneath me, my back arched and my arms laid out across the concrete above my head, I sobbed; the heat from the sidewalk warmed my face as my cheek lay pressed against it. I could see the bright, cloudless blue sky above me, and it was all I wanted to look at.

“Just get up,” I heard a soft voice say.

I felt a hand on my upper arm, but it was not the powerful, rough hand of a man. Reluctantly letting the blue sky go, I let the girl’s face come into focus. It was the blonde-haired girl hunkered over my body; her long hair draped both shoulders.

“You have to get up,” she repeated in a quiet voice. “If you don’t cooperate they’ll use your sister against you—you have to get up.” She tugged on my arm.

It was all the convincing I needed—I struggled to get to my feet, every bone and muscle in my body fighting against my movements. The green-eyed soldier stood next to us, waiting, and finally when my body was in motion again, we left the few remaining citizens desperate for supplies, and the vile soldiers, and the man named Marion who brought us here. And as we crossed the street and stepped onto another sidewalk, I could hear the Overseer’s voice as he spoke to the people, and his words faded on the air as I got farther away.

The green-eyed soldier walked us to the entrance of a building, escorted us inside and to the stairs. He never spoke. He never looked at us. He was as quiet and unemotional as he was ordinary.

By the third floor, I could barely walk; the long three-day trip to the city, combined with my wounded feet, was taking its toll on me.

Another floor and I had to rest.

I sat on a concrete step, out of breath, lightheaded. The green-eyed soldier, to my surprise, stopped without argument and let me have my moment.

The blonde girl sat beside me in the dark; the only source of light was from candles placed on the steps; some were burning down, their tiny wicks suffocated by their own wax.

“The sooner you accept it,” the girl said, her voice a whisper in the confined stairwell, “the sooner the pain will pass.”

I did not respond. I felt like Sosie in that moment: broken.

Seconds later, the soldier tugged on the ropes.

We made it to the eighth floor and he pushed open a door to reveal a spacious room where light spilled in from a tall window.

I lifted my eyes to take in the room with purpose, searching for anything I might use to escape. But there was nothing, just a twin-size mattress barely big enough for two girls to sleep on together. And the only way out of the room was through the door we’d just entered, or the window overlooking the city eight floors down.

I looked back at the green-eyed soldier.

“What’s going to happen to my sister?” I asked him.

His boots tapped lightly against the tile as he went toward the mattress. Leaning over, he lifted it with both hands and beat on the center to knock the dust from it. Then he set it down and pushed it back into place against the wall with the toe of his boot.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing.

Reluctantly, I walked over and sat down; the other girl followed. The soldier went toward the closed door and stood next to it where I knew he would stay until that horrible Overseer named Atticus would come for us. And in what felt like an hour of waiting in silence, I made up my mind to beg the Overseer to listen. I would do anything, even give myself to him, if he would let me be with Sosie again.

There was a knock at the door and the soldier opened it a crack. I heard whispers but not words and then the soldier went out into the hall. Shadows moved beneath the crack underneath the door.

“Listen to me—what’s your name?”

“Thais.”

The girl laid her bound hands on my thigh; her eyes were filled with concern and urgency; although as young as me, she had a motherly way about her and it instantly put me more at ease.

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