‹ Prequel: XY Revolution
Status: Returning November 2016
XY Revolution
un
Sarah runs the brush slowly through the tangles of white attached to my head. I haven’t brushed my hair in days, and ‘tangles’ really is a more appropriate word for the mess.
“Freya, what on earth were you thinking?!” Mum shrieks hysterically. “What if you’d been caught?!”
“Well, I wasn’t.”
“Not by the authorities,” Sarah adds and I scowl. The traitor.
“Thank goodness for that! If they had, I’m not even sure we could protect you,” Ma tells me.
“Article One, Section Eleven: Until the age of sixteen, the appropriate male owner has control of the punishment of his daughter,” I recite. “I’m fourteen.”
“Do you think they care about breaking a rule over one of us? What you did was treasonous, Freya.”
“I don’t want to be inspected and sold like cattle!” I shout back at her. The bristles of the brush snag my hair as I move forward. Some of the follicles have no doubt come loose.
Mum just starts to cry and uses the bench-top to stop herself from slipping to the floor, “Neither do I. But it’s better than watching you strung up in the park, whipped or beheaded.”
“The last woman to be beheaded killed her husband and drowned her son. I ran away!”
Mum leaves the room.
Sarah continues to slowly run the brush through my matted hair.
“You understand why she’s upset, don’t you?” she asks softly. I sigh.
“Yes. I could’ve died.”
“And you don’t seem to care that you could’ve.”
“Better that we should die on our feet rather than live on our knees,” I quote. Sarah smacks her hand over my mouth.
“Do not say that! Ever again! We are not part of the Resistance. We do not say these things,” she whispers harshly.
I stand up all of a sudden and knock her to the ground, telling her, “We don’t, but maybe I do.”
I storm out and head to the bathroom. There’s a layer of dirt clinging to my skin, colouring my usual pallor an earthy brown. My glasses have smudge marks on them from when I’ve tried to clean them with my filthy shirt, and it’s a wonder I can even see where I’m going.
My clothes soon hit the floor, and the hot water goes on.
I managed for five days: five days on my own. Mum and Dad were both at work. Dad’s a cop and Mum is a cleaner, and I pretended I was going to school so Sarah wouldn’t make a fuss.
The water around my feet turns brown, but it feels glorious, being clean.
Sarah’s always had it easy. Her parents run a farm. She always had food on the table, and she was educated before the revolution. When the XY regime did start, she was already engaged to my brother; she got to marry for love and Tyler is a good guy.
When we don’t have enough food, we have to go hunting. And there’s never a guarantee you’ll be rewarded. We have to go out further than most if we don’t want us girls caught with guns and knives in our hands. We’d have to kill the witnesses otherwise.
Sarah’s never had to carry a dead goat on her back. She’s never had to skin a rabbit. She lived on a farm where she never had to lift a finger, never killed an animal. I’d done it all before I was ten, and so has Jane, because my little sister needs to know how to fend for herself.
The rabbits were easy enough to catch, and the quails too. I just had to make sure they were big enough so the bullets wouldn’t make the poor creatures explode. It would be easy enough again. I would just have to go somewhere my dad wouldn’t know where to find me. Or anyone else.
“You planning on taking off again?” I raise my eyes from the page in front of me slowly.
“I really should,” I respond. Nate then swings himself over the fence and wanders over to where I’m lying on the grass, book in hand.
“That book’s illegal,” he informs me, but he already knows I don’t care. I close Jane Eyre and sit up.
“Well, it’s better than the crap they want us to read. “How to Cook Perfect Potatoes” and “The Art of Dressing for Your Man” get a little dull when you’re not interested in being a slave to some guy for the rest of your life. I’m gonna try live a little while I can.”
His baby-blue eyes gaze into mine as he sits in front of me, “How far did you get?”
“Around Murchison, I think.”
“It’s because of Monday, right?” he whispers. I let my eyes drop to my fingers, which are twirling blades of grass together.
“Yes.”
Nate’s hand is suddenly cupping my face and I freeze. The intimacy of the gesture is something completely foreign to me.
“You know I won’t let anything happen to you,” he tells me. “It’s the pre-auctions. This is our chance to save you.”
“From some abusive stranger, right?”
“Freya, we’ve been friends since forever and we’ve been neighbours since the day you were born. I know you. I know how to make you happy. Our marriage would be the best possible for you.”
I slap his face.
“I’d rather be beaten by some stranger than pretend to be free whilst married to you. If you knew me so well, you’d understand that.”
The mark is already red and his eyes are full of hurt, but from my words rather than the hit.
“Does the idea really disgust you that much?” he spits.
“The only reason I’d ever get married is the one my gran married for; love. I’m not in love with you. And even then, I won’t ever get married because I don’t want to be a slave. So fuck off.”
“Hey, kiddo,” Tyler calls when he walks in the next night, locking the back door behind him. I look over and nearly drop the glass I’m drying when I see him. He’s covered head to toe in black stains.
“Did an oil can explode or something?” I ask. He chuckles. Of course, this isn’t oil like in Gran’s day. We have a substitute, and it’s a foul smelling one at that.
“Close enough. We’ve got a new apprentice and he decided it’d be awesome if we reorganised the shelving system,” he rolls his eyes at this like it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. Then again, I don’t think mechanics really care about shelving. “He’s up on a ladder with the oil and just as I’m grabbing a wrench, he tips the shit on my head.”
“I’m sure your wife will appreciate that.”
“Oh don’t you worry, next stop is the bathroom. I’m just too hungry to do anything at the moment.”
“There’s some leftover curry in the fridge,” I tell him then open a cupboard to put the glasses away.
“Where is everyone?” he asks, grabbing the container from the night’s dinner. I shrug.
“Dad’s been on the night shift, Mum’s still mad at me. Sarah wanted an early night, and Jane’s bed-time was two hours ago,” I explain.
“So what did Dad say about your little adventure?” he asks with a mouth full of food.
“Nothing. I think he was too between being proud and terrified to say anything. Mum on the other hand…”
“Sounds about right.”
“Well, Mum has no idea what I’m going to have to do tomorrow! She never had to do these things.”
“She had other problems, Freya. The Downfall was-”
“I know about the freaking Downfall, Ty. I just can’t believe she’s angry just because I decided I have a voice and will not take these stupid rules lying down. I mean I left a note. It’s not like they didn’t know I was alive.”
“And this is all because you don’t wanna face a stupid little pre-auction.”
“Yes. I mean no!” I glare at my brother. “No! It’s not just about that. It’s about everything! I am a person not something to be bought and sold and traded at will, where no one cares if I live or die. It’s about not having my bloody freedom!”
Tyler smirks at me and announces, “There she is.”
“What are you on about now?” I ask with a sigh.
“That bratty girl who was here has brought back my fighter of a sister, who doesn’t run from her problems. Night, kiddo.”
I drop the bowl I’m holding when I click.
I am a fighter, is what I tell myself when I admire my handiwork in the mirror. The paint is still wet, but I’m ready.
“Freya, what on earth were you thinking?!” Mum shrieks hysterically. “What if you’d been caught?!”
“Well, I wasn’t.”
“Not by the authorities,” Sarah adds and I scowl. The traitor.
“Thank goodness for that! If they had, I’m not even sure we could protect you,” Ma tells me.
“Article One, Section Eleven: Until the age of sixteen, the appropriate male owner has control of the punishment of his daughter,” I recite. “I’m fourteen.”
“Do you think they care about breaking a rule over one of us? What you did was treasonous, Freya.”
“I don’t want to be inspected and sold like cattle!” I shout back at her. The bristles of the brush snag my hair as I move forward. Some of the follicles have no doubt come loose.
Mum just starts to cry and uses the bench-top to stop herself from slipping to the floor, “Neither do I. But it’s better than watching you strung up in the park, whipped or beheaded.”
“The last woman to be beheaded killed her husband and drowned her son. I ran away!”
Mum leaves the room.
Sarah continues to slowly run the brush through my matted hair.
“You understand why she’s upset, don’t you?” she asks softly. I sigh.
“Yes. I could’ve died.”
“And you don’t seem to care that you could’ve.”
“Better that we should die on our feet rather than live on our knees,” I quote. Sarah smacks her hand over my mouth.
“Do not say that! Ever again! We are not part of the Resistance. We do not say these things,” she whispers harshly.
I stand up all of a sudden and knock her to the ground, telling her, “We don’t, but maybe I do.”
I storm out and head to the bathroom. There’s a layer of dirt clinging to my skin, colouring my usual pallor an earthy brown. My glasses have smudge marks on them from when I’ve tried to clean them with my filthy shirt, and it’s a wonder I can even see where I’m going.
My clothes soon hit the floor, and the hot water goes on.
I managed for five days: five days on my own. Mum and Dad were both at work. Dad’s a cop and Mum is a cleaner, and I pretended I was going to school so Sarah wouldn’t make a fuss.
The water around my feet turns brown, but it feels glorious, being clean.
Sarah’s always had it easy. Her parents run a farm. She always had food on the table, and she was educated before the revolution. When the XY regime did start, she was already engaged to my brother; she got to marry for love and Tyler is a good guy.
When we don’t have enough food, we have to go hunting. And there’s never a guarantee you’ll be rewarded. We have to go out further than most if we don’t want us girls caught with guns and knives in our hands. We’d have to kill the witnesses otherwise.
Sarah’s never had to carry a dead goat on her back. She’s never had to skin a rabbit. She lived on a farm where she never had to lift a finger, never killed an animal. I’d done it all before I was ten, and so has Jane, because my little sister needs to know how to fend for herself.
The rabbits were easy enough to catch, and the quails too. I just had to make sure they were big enough so the bullets wouldn’t make the poor creatures explode. It would be easy enough again. I would just have to go somewhere my dad wouldn’t know where to find me. Or anyone else.
“You planning on taking off again?” I raise my eyes from the page in front of me slowly.
“I really should,” I respond. Nate then swings himself over the fence and wanders over to where I’m lying on the grass, book in hand.
“That book’s illegal,” he informs me, but he already knows I don’t care. I close Jane Eyre and sit up.
“Well, it’s better than the crap they want us to read. “How to Cook Perfect Potatoes” and “The Art of Dressing for Your Man” get a little dull when you’re not interested in being a slave to some guy for the rest of your life. I’m gonna try live a little while I can.”
His baby-blue eyes gaze into mine as he sits in front of me, “How far did you get?”
“Around Murchison, I think.”
“It’s because of Monday, right?” he whispers. I let my eyes drop to my fingers, which are twirling blades of grass together.
“Yes.”
Nate’s hand is suddenly cupping my face and I freeze. The intimacy of the gesture is something completely foreign to me.
“You know I won’t let anything happen to you,” he tells me. “It’s the pre-auctions. This is our chance to save you.”
“From some abusive stranger, right?”
“Freya, we’ve been friends since forever and we’ve been neighbours since the day you were born. I know you. I know how to make you happy. Our marriage would be the best possible for you.”
I slap his face.
“I’d rather be beaten by some stranger than pretend to be free whilst married to you. If you knew me so well, you’d understand that.”
The mark is already red and his eyes are full of hurt, but from my words rather than the hit.
“Does the idea really disgust you that much?” he spits.
“The only reason I’d ever get married is the one my gran married for; love. I’m not in love with you. And even then, I won’t ever get married because I don’t want to be a slave. So fuck off.”
“Hey, kiddo,” Tyler calls when he walks in the next night, locking the back door behind him. I look over and nearly drop the glass I’m drying when I see him. He’s covered head to toe in black stains.
“Did an oil can explode or something?” I ask. He chuckles. Of course, this isn’t oil like in Gran’s day. We have a substitute, and it’s a foul smelling one at that.
“Close enough. We’ve got a new apprentice and he decided it’d be awesome if we reorganised the shelving system,” he rolls his eyes at this like it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. Then again, I don’t think mechanics really care about shelving. “He’s up on a ladder with the oil and just as I’m grabbing a wrench, he tips the shit on my head.”
“I’m sure your wife will appreciate that.”
“Oh don’t you worry, next stop is the bathroom. I’m just too hungry to do anything at the moment.”
“There’s some leftover curry in the fridge,” I tell him then open a cupboard to put the glasses away.
“Where is everyone?” he asks, grabbing the container from the night’s dinner. I shrug.
“Dad’s been on the night shift, Mum’s still mad at me. Sarah wanted an early night, and Jane’s bed-time was two hours ago,” I explain.
“So what did Dad say about your little adventure?” he asks with a mouth full of food.
“Nothing. I think he was too between being proud and terrified to say anything. Mum on the other hand…”
“Sounds about right.”
“Well, Mum has no idea what I’m going to have to do tomorrow! She never had to do these things.”
“She had other problems, Freya. The Downfall was-”
“I know about the freaking Downfall, Ty. I just can’t believe she’s angry just because I decided I have a voice and will not take these stupid rules lying down. I mean I left a note. It’s not like they didn’t know I was alive.”
“And this is all because you don’t wanna face a stupid little pre-auction.”
“Yes. I mean no!” I glare at my brother. “No! It’s not just about that. It’s about everything! I am a person not something to be bought and sold and traded at will, where no one cares if I live or die. It’s about not having my bloody freedom!”
Tyler smirks at me and announces, “There she is.”
“What are you on about now?” I ask with a sigh.
“That bratty girl who was here has brought back my fighter of a sister, who doesn’t run from her problems. Night, kiddo.”
I drop the bowl I’m holding when I click.
I am a fighter, is what I tell myself when I admire my handiwork in the mirror. The paint is still wet, but I’m ready.