Chapter 1
I’m buried six
feet under, and no one hears my screams.
The rope chafes
as I loop it around my neck. I pull down, making sure the knot is secure. It
seems sturdy enough. My legs shake. My heart beats heavy in my throat. Sweat
pours down my back.
Death and I
glare at each other through my tears.
I take one last
look at the crystal chandelier, the foyer outlined with mirrors, and the
flawless decorations. No photographs adorn the walls. No happy memories here.
I’m ready to go.
On the count of three.
I inhale,
preparing myself for the finality of it all. Dropping my hands, a glimmer
catches my eye. It’s my ring, the last precious gift my father gave me. I twist
it around to read the inscription. Picturing his face forces me to reconsider
my choice. He’d be heartbroken if he could see me now.
A door slams in
the hallway, almost causing me to lose my balance. My thoughts already muddled,
I stand waiting with the rope hanging around my neck. Voices I don’t recognize
creep through the walls.
Curiosity
overshadows my current thoughts. It’s late at night, and this is a secure
building in High Society. No one disturbs the peace here—ever. I tug on the
noose and pull it back over my head.
Peering through
the eyehole in our doorway, I see a large group of armed guards banging on my
neighbors’ door. A heated conversation ensues, and my neighbors point toward my
family’s home.
It hits me. I’ve
been accused and they’re here to arrest me.
My father would
want me to run, and in that split second, I decide to listen to his voice
within me. Flinging myself forward in fear, I scramble up the marble staircase
and into my brother’s old bedroom. The door is partially covered, but it
exists. Pushing his dresser aside, my fingers claw at the opening. Breathing
hard, I lodge myself against it. Nothing. I step back and kick it with all my
strength. The wood splinters open, and my foot gets caught. I wrench it
backward, scraping my calf, but adrenaline pushes me forward. The voices at the
front door shout my name.
On hands and
knees, I squeeze through the jagged opening. My brother left through this
passage, and now it’s my escape too. Cobwebs entangle my face, hands, and hair.
At the end, I feel for the knob, twisting it clockwise. It swings open,
creaking from disuse. I sprint into the hallway and smash through the large
fire escape doors at the end. A burst of cool air strikes me in the face as I
jump down the ladder.
Reaching the
fifth floor, I knock on a friend’s window. The lights flicker on, and I see the
curtains move, but no one answers. I bang on the window harder.
“Let me in!
Please!” I say, but the lights darken. They know I’ve been accused and refuse
to help me. Fear and adrenaline rush through my veins as I keep running,
knocking on more windows along the way. No one has mercy. They all know what
happens to sinners.
Another flight
of stairs passes in a blur when I hear the guards’ heavy footfalls from above.
I can’t hide, but I don’t want to go without trying.
Help me, Daddy.
I need your strength now.
My previous desolation
evolves into a will to survive. I have to keep running, but I tremble and gasp
for air. I steel my nerves and force my body to keep moving. In a matter of
minutes, my legs cramp and my chest burns. I plunge to the ground, scraping my
knee and elbow. A moan escapes from my chest.
Gotta keep
going.
“Stop!” Their
voices bounce off the buildings. “Lexi Hamilton, surrender yourself,” they
command. They’re gaining on me.
I resist the
urge to glance back, running into what I assume is an alley. I’m far from our
high-rise in High Society as I plunge into a poorer section of the city where
the streets all look the same and the darkness prevents me from recognizing
anything. I’m lost.
My first
instinct is to leap into a dumpster, but I retain enough sense to stay still. I
crouch and peek around it, watching them dash by. The abhorrent smell leaves me
vomiting until nothing remains in my stomach. Desperation overtakes me, as I
know my retching was anything but silent. My last few seconds tick away before
they find me. Everyone knows about their special means of tracking sinners.
I push myself to
my feet and look left, right, and left again. Their batons click against their
black leather belts, and their boots stomp the cement on both sides of me. I
shrink into myself. Their heavy steps mock my fear, growing closer and closer
until I know I’m trapped.
Never did I
imagine they’d come for me. Never did I imagine all those nights I heard them
dragging someone else away that I’d join them.
“You’re a
sinner,” they say. “Time to leave.”
I stand defiant.
I refuse to bend or break before them, even as I shiver with fear.
“There’s no
reason to make this difficult. The more you cooperate, the smoother this will
be for everyone,” a guard says.
I cringe into
the blackness along the wall. I’m innocent, but they won’t believe me or care.
The next
instant, my face slams into the pavement as one guard plants a knee in my back
and another handcuffs me. A warm liquid trails into my mouth. Blood. Their
fingers grip my arms like steel traps as they peel me off the cement. The tops
of my shoes scrape along the ground as I’m dragged behind them until they
discard me into the back of a black vehicle. The doors slam in unison with one
guard stationed on each side of me, my shoulders digging into their arms.
Swallowing hard,
I stare ahead to avoid their eyes. My dignity is all I have left. The handcuffs
dig into my wrists, so I clasp them together hard behind me and press my back
into the seat, unwilling to admit how much it hurts.
Did they need so
many guards to capture me?
I’m not carrying
any weapons, nor do I own any. I don’t even know self-defense. High Society
frowns on activities like that.
The driver jerks
the vehicle around and I try to keep my bearings, but it’s dark and the scenery
changes too fast. Hours pass, and the air grows warmer, more humid the farther
we drive. The landscape mutates from city to rolling hills. They don’t bother
blindfolding me because they escort all the sinners to the same place—the Hole.
Twenty-foot cement walls encase the chaos within. There’s no way out and no way
in unless they transport you. They say the Hole is a prison with no rules. We
learned about it last year in twelfth grade.
To the outside,
I’m filth now. I’ll never be allowed to return to the life I knew. No one ever
does.
“All sinners go
through a transformation,” one of the guards says to me. His smirk infuriates
me. “I’m sure you’ve heard all kinds of stories.” I don’t respond. I don’t want
to think about the things I’ve been told.
“You won’t last
too long, though. Young girls like you get eaten alive.” He pulls a strand of
my hair up to his face.
Get your hands
off me, you pig. I want to lash out, but resist. The punishment for disobeying
authority is severe, and I’m not positioned to defy him.
They’re the
Guards of the Commander. They’re chosen from a young age and trained in combat.
They keep the order of society by using violent methods of intimidation. No one
befriends a guard. Relationships with them are forbidden inside the Hole.
Few have seen
the Commander. His identity stays under lock and key. His own paranoia and
desire to stay pure drove him to live this way. He controls our depraved
society and believes sinners make the human race unforgivable. His power is a
crushing fist, rendering all beneath him helpless. So much so, even family
members turn on each other when an accusation surfaces. Just an accusation. No
trial, no evidence, nothing but an accusation.
I lose myself in
thoughts of my father.
“Never show
fear, Lexi,” my father said to me before he was taken. “They’ll use it against
you.” His compassionate eyes filled with warning as he commanded me to be
strong. That was many years ago, but I remember it clearly. My father. My rock.
The one person in my life who provided unconditional love.
“Get out,” the
guard says while pulling me to my feet. The vehicle stops, and I’m jerked back
to reality. The doors slide open and the two guards lift me up and out into the
night. A windowless cement building looms in front of us, looking barren in the
darkness.
The coolness of
the air sends a shiver up my spine. This is really happening. I’ve been labeled
a sinner. My lip starts to quiver, but I bite it before anyone sees. They shove
me in line, and I realize I’m not alone. Women and men stand with faces frozen
white with fear. Some are hardened criminals; others, like me, are innocent. A
guard grabs my finger, pricks it, and dabs my blood on a tiny microchip.
I follow the man
in front of me into the next room where we’re lined up facing the wall.
Glancing right, I see one of the men crying.
“I didn’t mean
to hit the guard. I swear it!” he pleads.
I turn my head
when I see a guard whip out his baton. The thumping sounds of his beating
unnerve me.
“Spread your
legs,” one of the guards says icily.
They remove my
outer layers and their hands roam up and down my body.
What do they
think I can possibly be hiding? I press my head into the wall, trying to block
out what they’re doing to me.
“MOVE!” a guard
commands. So I shuffle across the room, trying to cover up.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five of us sit
in the holding room. A woman clings to a man sitting next to her. She grips his
arm and I can see the whitening of her knuckles. Her eyes meet mine and then
she quickly turns away. He’s bent over his hands, defeated.
“I’m not the
criminal they say I am,” he whispers. His voice breaks.
One by one, they
pull people into the next room, forcing the rest of us to wonder what torture
we’ll endure. I hear screaming from somewhere inside. An agonizing amount of
time passes. I lean my head back and try to imagine a place far away. The door
opens.
“Lexi Hamilton.”
A guard escorts
me out of the room, and I don’t have time to look back. The first thing I see
is a large photo of a regal-looking man on the wall. His frame is wide and he
has cobalt blue eyes and a shock of black hair. He’s handsome, middle-aged, and
wears the uniform of the Commander. My jaw drops open. It can’t be…
Then the door
slams closed. I feel their strong arms pick me up and place me on a table. It’s
cold and my skin sticks to it slightly, like wet fingers on an ice cube. They
exit in procession, and I lie on the table with a doctor standing over me. His
hands are busy as he speaks.
“Don’t move.
This will only take a few minutes. It’s time for you to be branded.”
A wet cloth that
smells like rubbing alcohol is used to clean my skin. Then he places a metal
collar around my neck.
Click. Click.
Click.
The collar locks
into place, and I struggle to breathe. The doctor loosens it some as I focus on
the painted black words above me.
The Seven Deadly
Sins:
Lust — Blue
Gluttony —
Orange
Greed — Yellow
Sloth — Black
Wrath — Red
Envy — Green
Pride — Purple
“Memorize it.
Might keep you alive longer if you know who to stay away from.” He opens my
mouth, placing a bit inside. “Bite this.”
Within seconds,
the collar heats from hot to scorching. The smell of flesh sizzling makes my
head spin. I bite down so hard a tooth cracks.
“GRRRRRRRRR,”
escapes from deep within my chest. Just when I’m about to pass out, the
temperature drops, and the doctor loosens the collar.
He removes it
and sits me up. Excruciating pain rips through me, and I’m on the verge of a
mental and physical breakdown. Focus. Don’t pass out.
Stainless steel
counters and boring white walls press in on me. And that large, gilded photo
stares at me like it’s watching. A guard laughs at me from an observation room
above and yells, “Blue. It’s a great color for a pretty young thing like
yourself.” His eyes dance with suggestion. The others meander around like it’s
business as usual.
I finally find
my voice and turn to the doctor.
“Are you going
to give me clothes?” A burning pain spreads like fire up from my neck to my
jaw, making me wince.
He shrugs and
points to a set of folded grey scrubs on a chair. I cover myself as much as I
can and scurry sideways. Grabbing my clothes and pulling the shirt over my
head, I try to avoid the raw meat around my throat. I quickly knot the cord of
my pants around my waist and slide my feet into the hospital-issue slippers as
the doctor observes. He hands me a bag labeled with my name.
“Nothing is
allowed through the door but what we’ve given you,” he says.
I hide my right
hand behind me, hoping no one notices. A guard scans my body and opens his
fist.
“Give it to me.”
His eyes turn to slits. “Don’t make me rip off your finger.” He crouches down
and I turn to stone. I don’t know what to do, so I beg.
“My father gave
this to me. Please, let me keep it.” I smash my eyes shut and think of the
moment my father handed the golden ring to me.
“It was my
mother’s ring,” he’d said. “She’s the strongest woman I ever knew.” With tears
in his eyes, he reached for my hand and said, “Lexi, you’re exactly like her.
She’d want you to wear this. No matter how this world changes, you can
survive.” I turned the gold band over in my palm and read the engraving.
You can overcome
anything… short of death.
“You’re going to
take the one thing that matters the most to me?” I say, glaring into the
guard’s emotionless eyes. “Isn’t it enough taking my life, dignity, and
respect?”
A hard blow
falls upon my back. As I fall, my hands shoot out to stop me from smashing into
the wall in front of me. The guard bends down and grabs my chin with his meaty
fist.
“Look at me,” he
commands. I look up and he smiles with arrogance.
“What the hell?”
He staggers a step backward. “What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with your
eyes?”
“Nothing,” I
respond, confused.
“What color are
they?”
“Turquoise.” I
glower at him.
“Interesting,”
he says, regaining his composure. “Now those’ll get you in trouble.”
Reality slaps me
across the face. I have my father’s eyes. They can't take them from me. I twist
the ring off my finger and drop it in his hand.
“Take the damn ring,”
I say. I walk to the door. He swipes a card and the massive door slides open to
the outside.
“You have to
wear your hair back at all times, so everyone knows what you are.” He hands me
a tie, so I pull my frizzy hair away from my face and secure it into a
ponytail. My neck burns and itches as my hand traces the scabs that have
already begun to form. Squinting ahead in the darkness, I almost run into a
guard standing on the sidewalk.
“Watch where
you’re going,” he says, shoving me backward. His stiff figure stands tall and I
cringe at the sharpness of his voice.
“Cole, this is
your new assignment, Lexi Hamilton. See to it she feels welcome in her new
home.” The guard departs with a salute.
“Let’s move,”
Cole says.
I take two steps
and collapse, my knees giving out. The unforgiving pavement reopens the scrapes
from earlier and I struggle to stand. A powerful arm snatches me up, and I see
his face for the first time.
Kelly is married to a wonderful Texas cowboy who has a knack for making her laugh almost daily and supports her crazy ideas and dreams for some unknown reason...he claims it's because he loves her!
