Freeborn
After seventeen years I still know nothing about myself, my interests, my skills, anything. Mum says I'm strong, but strength is nothing more than how well you hide the fear. The harsh stone walls enveloping around me give the illusion that at any moment they will begin to contract and crush me in their grasp. Taking uneven breaths, I repeat his words in my ears, over and over again. "Finals are coming, it's now or never." His hushed raspy voice echoing in my ears. I close my eyes, emerging myself into darkness and the memory. "Arcadia is our only chance. If we stay they'll find all of them, I don't want that blood on my hands." His words filled my ears like rushing water, creating a dull throbbing in my temples. He was half right, they wouldn't let them live if they found out. But still I can't  take away the small amount of hope he was able to cling to. It would destroy him. Slowly, I open my eyes to allow a sliver of light through and then, all at once I give in to reality, my reality. 

The broken rusted clock was ticking repeatedly on the far wall behind me, creating a scratching noise as it shuddered in a failed attempt to continue its journey from one number to another. The inconsistent silence cracked by the clock sets my teeth on edge, as if someone was running their nails down the huge chalk board that stood towering at the front of the classroom. The taste of metallic ink in my mouth shocks me into dropping my pen, causing an echoing clatter against my wooden desk. I feel a sudden weight in the pit of my stomach as a sea of suspicious eyes turn to look at me accusingly. I simply avoid eye contact, retrieve my pen and continue staring blankly at the impossible question before me. I hate algebra. The letters and numbers dip and dive across the page to form an eligible mess that I must somehow translate. This is why we have to leave, now more than ever, but go where. He's asking me to risk everything to chance a fantasy.

They're bound to find out about me, about us.

When I was nine I asked my mum why I couldn't play with the other children. She told me that it was because I was her precious little secret that had to be kept hidden. But secrets never stay hidden forever. I glance up to see Mr Greenwood checking his worn leather watch on his left wrist.  I was running out of time and soon it would all come crashing down around me. I'm not like my mum and everyone else around me. I'm what they call a Free Born. Someone they couldn't change or imprint. I'm not perfect, not in their eyes, but I'll never let them see. My mum fell pregnant with me when she was nineteen and only had my grandma’s help to hide  me for the first three years of my life. She believes we've stopped running, but she's wrong. Without Gran I'm all she has. My life is safe as she sees it, undetectable. I place my elbows on my pale desk and slouch my back into an arch to conceal the lack of answers on my paper. This is only in preparation for the exam, when it comes I'll be standing in the middle of an empty battlefield with no hope for cover. Coming here was a mistake.
But no one ever suspects what's right under their nose, their arrogance ensures it.
Staring out across the grey path through the long rectangular window, I catch a glimpse of the dome as the sun reflects through it, redirecting its beams that give it a sharp glisten. Our protection and imprisonment. No One has left in twenty years,not since the last escape, this is the new age of humanity, one with no room for mistakes. I'm tired of everyone's expectations of me, my mum, my friends the True Bloods, everyone. If I had an ounce of time and self knowledge I'd be in fear of losing my mind, but I have more important things to worry about. I steal another glance around the room to avoid the growing list of problems left unanswered. Rows of students with identical desks and black bags all hooked on the left side of their chairs. I notice one black bag slightly visible on the floor in between the legs of a chair and recognise it immediately, Caleb's. This pointless ritual rebellion he has gives him a false sense of control, so I never point out the lack of change or effect it has. He needs an answer, no matter how ridiculous or impossible. One way or another we're getting out. Two rows ahead of me I steal Caleb's attention and give him a slight nod and mouth the word,
"Tonight."