XY Revolution

“Oh my God!” Mum screams when we all walk through the front door.

She immediately runs to Tyler, who’s still covered in blood.

“What the hell happened?!” she demands of my father.

He places Jane on the couch and goes to make her a cup of warm milk, and tells my mum, “We had a bit of an accident with the hook.”

“Bullshit! Harvey, I know you aren’t out fishing. Who goes fishing at eight at night? Now tell me what happened!”

“Tania, it was nothing. Calm down,” Dad says.

“My boy is drenched in blood and Jane is catatonic! Don’t tell me to calm down!”

“Freya’s okay,” Ty points out and I want to reach out and thump him for involving us in this argument.

Mum just rolls her eyes, “Freya’s always okay! She got whipped in public and still carries on the way she does.”

“Oh wow, thanks for your concern, Mum,” I mumble.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asks with a sleepy voice.

One hand is rubbing her eyes, and the other clutching the small bump on her tummy.

“I heard shouting,” she continues. “Is something wrong?”

Tyler rushes over and kisses her full on the lips.

When they part, Sarah’s pretty hazel eyes are wide open with panic, and she shrieks “Ty! What happened to you?! You’re…there’s so much blood.”

“I’m fine, baby,” he says and wraps his arms around her.

Dad then sighs and tells everyone to sit down so he can explain.



“Who on earth would expose Morrison’s though?” Mum ponders, lighting another candle.

The power turns off at ten every night in residential areas. It makes reading bloody difficult, but I know Jane loves the candlelight on the pages.

“Some anonymous tipper, apparently,” Tyler offers, face now clean of the red stains.

“Wasn’t there some woman from the Resistance there last week?” Dad asks.

I’m instantly reminded of Tyler’s conversation to Dad on the phone

Everywhere they go, they leave a trail of fucking destruction. That place is going to be gone by the end of the week, I guarantee it.

Tyler shakes his head though, to my surprise.

“No, they wouldn’t attack a place which supports their cause. We know that nobody watches the shop. Jeez, security there was so tight it would’ve been nigh on impossible.”

“That leaves someone who wants revenge,” Mum says darkly.

I put my head in my hands.

“Oh fuck,” I murmur.

“What is it?” Dad asks.

“Nate.”

The family looks up at me and a very similar expression crosses their faces.

“The Resistance wants a sign, Freya. This is it,” Tyler tells me and I gulp.



“Hi Anna! I know this might seem a little out of the blue, but we’d like to invite Nate around for dinner tonight. Our daughter is…difficult about the whole marriage idea but we know he’s made an offer, and he’s a good boy. Harvey and I would love to be able to talk to him and see if we can sort something out,” Mum says sweetly through the phone.

Her face is a total contrary to her tone though; stern, determined and ruthless. She always told me that it’s pointless trying to analyse people just using what’s coming out of their mouths. It’s what they don’t say, wherein the truth lies, and her whole demeanour is a dead giveaway.

“Oh, I’m so glad! Send him over at around seven.”

Mum then hangs up the phone and looks at me solemnly.

“He’s coming?” I ask and she nods.
Ty grips my hand. Dad gives me a look of sympathy. We all know what has to be done though. There is no room for mercy when we’re in a war, when our family has been threatened, and luck and extraordinary skill are the only things that have kept us safe.

I take a deep breath, and then announce, “I’m ready.”



Sarah did my hair up in an elaborate braided bun. There are what feels like a million pins sticking into my head just to keep it all together. My make-up is flawless, and my dress something feminine, flattering, and showing just an appropriate yet sexy amount of skin – something I’d never wear.

But there’s a knife next to my thigh, sheathed by a bit of old brown leather. The skirt on this dress is perfect for concealing it.

There’s a knock on the door and I take one last look in the mirror, at the girl who looks only vaguely like me, and then leave my bedroom. It feels like the longest walk, down the hall, despite how tiny the distance is. I put on my best smile, hope like hell it’s not a grimace, and open the door.

Nate looks surprised to see me, but it’s obvious he likes what he sees. His eyes roam up and down, taking it all in, eyebrows disappearing into his hair which has gotten far too long to be practical.

“Hi,” I say coyly.

“Freya…you look…um, I thought I was having dinner with your parents?” he stutters as I lead him into the living room.

Candles are lit, even though the power is still several hours off going dead. Apparently it creates a romantic atmosphere or some crap like that. Well, that’s what I’ve read in books from before the Downfall anyway. Candles have a very different connotation now, but Nate’s family is probably well off enough that it wouldn’t faze him. Well, there’s that and I doubt he’s one of those boys who thinks deeply about décor.

I take a step closer to him, invading his personal space. Again, I think this is supposed to create intimacy. It probably works if you’re actually attracted to the person you’re with.

“Why would you want my parents when I’m here?” I whisper.

You can imagine my satisfaction when I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard.

“Um, yeah, good point,” he stammers.

I push him lightly onto the couch then ask, like the good little hostess I am, “Would you like something to drink? Vodka maybe?”

Vodka has become the poor man’s drink, but it sure does get you blissfully drunk. Not that I have much experience on that front. I’ve just seen Tyler covered in his own puke enough times.

“I really shouldn’t-”

I cut him off with a, “C’mon, Nate. We’re celebrating.”

“Uh, celebrating?”

I take a seat next to him, our faces so close I can smell the mint-toothpaste on his breath.

“Our engagement,” I say with a smile.

He looks like he might just faint with the shock.

Instead he just asks me, “What made you change your mind?”

“Well, it might’ve been when you ratted out Morrison’s to the authorities, or maybe it was when I had to escape with my little sister through a hatch. No, it was probably when the raiders killed an old man and my boyfriend. Yeah, that was definitely it. Oh, with a side of almost getting my brother killed.”

Nate goes pale and I smile sweetly.

“Oh don’t worry about it, darling. The bad people got what was coming to them, when my brother shot them all in the throat.”

He starts to creep back from me, his back hitting the armrest of the couch, like cornered prey.

“At least they didn’t give away their friends because they got rejected by some girl. They were just following orders. But you, my dear, you’re a special kind of evil,” I continue, getting up to pour myself a shot of vodka.

“Freya, I swear, it wasn’t me!” he protests. “It must’ve been someone else!”

I down my shot and tell him, “It’s written all over your face. But you know, Nate, that wasn’t what gave it away for me. You see, I know you,” I love throwing someone else’s line back in their face, “And you’ve always been a sulky tantrum-thrower.”

“Fine,” he spits. “I did do it, you ungrateful little bitch. Okay? I did it and I’d do it again. I’m the one with the power remember? I’m a man. I have the world behind me. I got a bunch of rebels killed, and I still get to marry some girl who’ll have to fuck me whenever I want. You have nothing. You are nothing! Nothing without me!”

He’s screaming at me, by the time I slip the knife out of its sheath and pounce on him. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way the smugness and light left his eyes for horror to take seat in that fraction of a moment before I dragged the steel across his throat.

The warm blood sprays across my face and onto my dress. It’s no doubt in my hair too, but I couldn’t care less. I just walk over to the camera sitting between the curtains and hold it up to my face.

“My name is Freya Belmont. I just killed a man. He threatened my family, he got innocent people killed, and he squealed on a club where everyone could read and talk and eat as equals, because I refused to marry him. Let this be a warning to any man who crosses me; I will destroy you.

“Je suis résistante.”