Insanity
    I’m terrified, but I can’t cry out for help. I’ve tried to do so before, but all that got me was an aching neck, sore eyes, and the Punishment Room all alone. All I have in this dungeon is a few empty bunk beds, my reflection, thoughts, and the pain in my neck from the micro-patch.
    Why did I let them do this to me? I think as I look into my reflection and see my deep blue eyes and pale, slim, sunlight-starved  figure.  My knotted, light brown hair falls limp to my shoulders in the only wall length mirror in this dark cavern
    I’m going insane, I whisper to myself. I see the same sights everyday and I can’t escape them.
    I tug on my long-sleeved, light gray, polyester shirt. It’s the same kind of top that I, and the rest of the soldiers, have worn since we started our training many years ago. The same goes for my black pants tucked into my usual brown combat boots. But the neon blue green patch on the side my neck has always been there, and I’m told it will always stay there, no matter how hard I claw at it.
***
    “Wake up,” a harsh voice shouts into the empty Punishment Room.
The tormenting bright lights flicker on without warning, blinding me for a moment so I couldn’t recognize the silhouette in the doorway.
“Get up, Charlotte, you have a long day to get to.”
I mouth some obscene words (that I wished I could say to their face) and got out of bed. I rub my head and stumble over to the door, where light floods into the dark, small room. As I walk out, I glare at the man. General Johnson stands there at attention, silent, and pays me no heed as I walk down the hallway. He doesn’t have to tell me what to do. I’ve been spending enough time in the Punishment Room to know where to go after I wake up.
    The plain white walls and tiled floor seeming endless as I trudge through the empty hallway. I have no idea how big or wide this compound is because I only know the places that I should know, though I do know some that I shouldn’t.
I just keep my head down and walk, because I know they are monitoring me.
    “Back again,” a voice hollers at me as I stride into the mechanical room.
I give the only worker a nasty glare because he knows I can’t answer. That’s how Jonathan, the mechanic, works. He does his job quickly and efficiently, all while basking in the glory of being able to talk. This is one of the reasons I hate him. He loves the sound of his voice and all he does is talk, and poke fun at those who can’t.
    “Well Canary,” Jonathan sang. “Let’s see if you damaged your patch any more than you already have.” He propels himself off his desk and slides over to me on his wheeled desk chair.
Standing in the doorway,  I gaze at the counters with disgust. They were full of newly created weapons that I will be forced to wield. While standing there, I can’t help but think about how much I don’t want to use them.
I don’t want to go fight a war and possibly die for a cause I hate. I dislike the thought of killing innocent people on the Earth. They don’t deserve to be wiped out because the leaders of this underground compound think they have to be.
    “Stop thinking about the stupid war and let me see your dang patch already,” Jonathan hisses from his chair.
I grind my teeth together as I kneel down to be at his level. I immediately felt an electric shock run through me, alerting me that Jonathan poking at the patch with one of his utensils.
The micro-patch is basically a little computer inserted into my neck. We are told it’s supposed to make us stronger, but I’m probably the weakest soldier here; I can’t even lift the normal 2,000 pounds.
I find the whole micro-patch idea to be stupid, mostly because the side effect of having it. It causes the loss of speech, but I have plans to change it. The only people stopping me are those who don’t have the patch, officials and teachers, who all just love to give us orders.
    “Well it seems like you haven’t damaged it any further,” Jonathan grumbles, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I stand up, grinning. I give him a sweet smile and waltz right out of there, humming a little tune impossible to do without a properly working patch.
***

    “Okay class, I hope you all had a good night’s sleep.”  Immediately I could tell that comment was for me. Everyone has a set time to go to bed, and a set time to wake up. Well, except for the prisoners in the Punishment Room.
Not only are you completely alone, (you also realize just how much you need to be with other people since our only socialization is teachers talking) your sleep time is messed with by random bright lights flashing.
    “As you all know, you’ll be leaving for the surface in seven days.”
I cut my teacher, Mr. Smith, off by humming.
He clenches one of his hands and he uses his other one to pull on his brown hair. 
I can be quite the interrupter when I want to be, and it can be quite annoying.
    “I am sorry you’re such a troublemaker, Miss Charlotte, but you have to accept facts.” Mr. Smith remarks as he starts to write on the chalkboard. “You have one week to create all the trouble you like, although it won’t change a thing.”
I don’t stop humming, and he doesn’t stop clenching his fists.
I relish in the fact that I can do this without getting thrown into a cell.
    “I suppose they could do worse to you.”
That made me stop humming.
“They could put you in a cell and let you stay there as your fellow students save the day.”
    I sat there, frozen. I don’t know if that is a better option. All I want is to just get out of here.  I don’t want to fight some war that doesn’t truly involve me, and don’t want to spend a single second more with the people who doomed me to silence.
    “Now that Canary is done with her singing, let’s start with the routes you will be taking when you get out there.” Mr. Smith went back to the chalkboard and continued to draw.
    The class passed fairly quickly, mostly because the whole time I didn’t pay attention. I just wandered off in my own world.
It drives the officials crazy because each and every one of us is supposed to be the perfect soldier, and that means hanging onto every word they say.
That isn’t the only thing they require of us; they want us to be perfect.  I don’t want to be like that because from what I‘ve read, the perfect person was always the biggest liar, and I’m not the liar here. 
“Charlotte, please come up to my front desk.” A voice broke me out of my silent thinking, and I realize everyone left but me. “Can you please come up here?”
    I take a deep breath, and slowly trudge up to Mr. Smith’s desk at the front of the room.  I keep my head hung low, just in case this lecture was bad.
When I arrive at the desk my head stays low, and this one particular object that catches my eye. A key with a delicate design, and I can’t help but place my fingertips gently on its surface.
    “Do you realize how serious this is,” Mr. Smith says in a serious tone.
I whip my hand back and look at my teacher in the eye.
“The world is a very big place, and you have to help save it.”
    The world doesn’t need saving, the soldiers here do! I want to scream it to him, but I can’t do that yet.
    Mr. Smith smiles softly at me.
    “I know you don’t think that I understand how you feel, but I do,” he whispers. “I can see it in your face that you don’t like it. But you have to understand that this is for the greater good!” He gazes at me with a look that says you-just-need-to-believe-in-me.
    I give him a quick nod and march right out of the room briskly.
I quickly turn and head for lunch, but then I hear running feet.
    “Charlotte!” A hoarse voice shouts at me.
    I stand there, smiling widely to myself as the guards come closer and take the object in my pocket. A key.
    “Now where did you get this,” one of the guards inquires..
    I look at him right in the eye and mouth three words: I can’t say.

***

    “When will you ever learn?” The general snarls at me. He angrily taps his fingers on the desk and  waits for my response.
    I don’t give one to him.
    “Fine then!” He slams his palms on the desk and spins out of his chair. “I’ll just go get your file, then we can talk about your punishment.”
    I wait five seconds after he left, to make my move. I reach over, grab the key, and slowly open the door.
    “Oh, she’s definitely getting worse than the Punishment Room, for stealing, again! We can’t let her out. There is a meeting with the leaders of the army of the above land today, and we can’t have her interfering!”
    I freeze in the doorway, almost laughing.
    Is that all they are worried about, I ask myself. It really shouldn’t be.
    Tonight, I say the words to myself, thinking of the meeting in my head. They will no longer be able to control me.
I stay close to the ground and swiftly glide out of the office and into the hallway.
I don't raise my head for a while, afraid that I might get caught. After so long of traveling my legs began to hurt, but when I reach my destination it's all worth it.
The door in front of me doesn't look like much. It simply looks like every other door here. It has the same indents and patterns and black ink color, but most people don't even know it exist. The only reason I know it exists is because I wandered upon it when I was running away.
The Punishment Room has always been torture for me, and I can’t stand it. Before now, I did everything I could to get away from it because the silence was terrible even before I was in that empty room. Then, being there, hearing no official talking, hearing no footsteps, it all just drove me insane.
Standing in front of the door now, I quickly processes all that I have done quickly. I have lied (if shaking my head when I wasn’t supposed to counted), I have stolen, and I have learned information that I shouldn’t of.
I place my hand on the door handle, and use my other hand to slide the key in as I smile to myself.
I am just about to learn a few more secrets, I whisper in my mind as I turned the key, then the handle.
I step inside, and shut the door swiftly. What stands before me always impresses me everytime I see it because no fellow soldier even knows that this exists. A library. A library filled with books and their unregulated ideas that my world sees as hazardous

***
I sit there for hours, just digesting all the stories I could before search parties come for me.
I sit there, taking in the life that I always wanted. A life where I am free and can do whatever I want. Where I can be anything that I want, and no one stands by yelling at me to follow orders.
These people in the books were so ignorant, thinking that the problem at hand was the worst. Oh, they don’t know what it was like to actually live a life without freedom, but some, real people, did.
The Jews of 20th century were marched away from their homes and forced into death camps. Their lives were worse than mine, and so was their punishment. But I feel so connected to them! They too, had an all ruling government that made their lives miserable. Although their fate was much worse, freedom is still freedom, and it  hurts all the same when it is stolen.
The Nazis had to be extinguished before the Jews could finally receive their freedom. I don’t think that my situation is at that level of torment, but I don’t want my officials to get away with what they have done. So I’ve decided to fight back.
I put the book down, and I hold the key up so it can shine in the light. This delicate key has the power to unlock any door in compound, but I need to get into only one.
I rise from my place and head to the doors, it’s time for my final move. It’s time to truly fight back.
Charging out of the library, I have confidence with the plan in my head. If I am remembering correctly, there is a meeting soon, and there I can strike.
***
“Now what do you think you’re doing?” A familiar voice sneers.
I freeze and growl. Why does Jonathan have to show his ugly face now?
“I don’t think anybody truly knows how much you hate us,” Jonathan remarks as he leans against the pure white wall next to the door. “The way you damaged your micro-patch. It wasn’t done efficiently or precise. It was clawed at, ripped at in desperation. You must have met some breaking point along the way and couldn’t take the silence.”
I clench my fist in anger. How dare he remind me of my weak point?
“All you want is to get out of here.” He hisses with anger. “Well, sweetheart, I worked too hard, and too long, for you to act like this! I was told that respected, dutiful soldiers were going to be made, but I get you! Some brat who is throwing a fit over not being able to say a word. Well I hate to break it to you, but there are worse things than not being able to talk!”
My fist are clenched so tightly that I can feel my nails pierce my skin, and my blood trickle
out. My body starts to shake with rage.
“How dare you say my pain is insignificant?” I say the words ‘oh so’ proudly.
Jonathan pales and his eyes widen. His mouth drops open in utter shock.
“But you can’t-”
“You had the freedom to live Jonathan.” I cut him off. “ And I don’t think you deserve it anymore. You are making me go fight an unjust war, and kill innocent people.”
“Innocent people?” Jonathan bellows. “The people you read about in that library are lies! The real world is where the government wishes to kill all those against them, and those rebels have killed more than we can count! We are helping the people above us by eradicating them! We are putting them out of their misery!”
Rage fills me as I shoot my hand up and grab Jonathan by the hair. His body freezes and his hands fly up to pull mine away, but he has no effect on me.
“You don’t understand what it's like to watch your life be taken away.” I whisper to him, brokenly.
“I have no choice but to fight in this war.”
“This isn’t you,” Jonathan gasped out of fear. “This isn’t you! I checked your brain patterns this morning when I saw you, and they were unstable.”
“I’m not unstable.” I hiss.
“Yes,” Jonathan breathes out. “You are. The micro-patch has a different effect on you. The chemicals injected in you is messing with your brain, and making your thoughts diluted.”
“Stop it!” I exclaim, fear made my body go stiff. Is he right? Am I fighting on the right side? Am I actually helping?
“I came here to make sure you haven’t done anything drastic...” Jonathan starts to speak more causally.
I look at him sharply and I grip his hair tighter.
Jonathan began to flinch in pain as I pull his hair.
“You just can’t stop lying, can you?” I laugh at him, shakily.
“Charlotte!”  Jonathan cries out his last words as I snap my wrist forward. A cracking noise filled the empty hallway. Jonathan went limp beneath me, and the second I let go of him he slumps to the ground. Dead.
“One down,” I mutter to myself as I walk away from him. “And so many more to go.”
Maybe I was crazy, but I just want to be free.

***
“Do you think that I am a fool, General Johnson?”
I hear a masculine, old voice shout.
“You call me for a meeting, telling my that a truce will be made but instead you tell me to
surrender?!”
Is that what we are asking of them? A surrender? Are my leaders so scared that they won’t even fight the people that I was trained my whole life to fight?
“I know, Lieutenant Stevens, that you don’t wish to fight with us-”
“Not wish to fight?! General Johnson you have an entire genetically enhanced army ready to fight under your name, I would much rather decide on a truce, than resort to my other options.”
“Your other options?”
“An atomic bomb.” I say loudly, and clear.
General Johnson dropped his pointing stick in surprise. His reaction is much like Jonathan’s, but I doubt I will be able to finish him like I did before.
“Y-You can t-talk?” The general quivers.
“General Johnson, what in God’s name is going on!?”
I turn my head sharply to look at the opposing voice. What stood before me is was man about 50, with salt and pepper hair, and a uniform I didn’t recognize.
My gaze lingers at his face, which is tan, weathered, and wrinkled. Is that what the sun does to you?
“I assume you are from the surface?” I comment as I resume my walk to General Johnson.
“Yes and who in the world are you, missy?” He snaps at me. “You're Barging in on a very important meeting! General Johnson, I thought you said your soldiers were well behaved?”
“They’re not supposed to talk,” he whispers.
“Speak up man,” the Lieutenant shouts.
“A side effect of the patch is there loss of the ability to speak,” General Johnson breathes out. “The patches are indestructible, she should never have been able to damage it in the first place! Yet here you are-”
“Stop,” I demand, my voice shaky. “Just stop.”
    “What’s wrong with her?” The Lieutenant murmurs.
    “Nothing!” I scream. “There is nothing wrong me! You menaces are the ones that are wrong! Not me! You are the foul human beings taking away lives!”
    Tears start to brim my eyes. The fear that there actually might be something wrong with me fills my body.
I’m doing what’s right, right?
    “They aren’t the ones taking lives.”
    I spin around to face the new voice: Mr. Smith. He looks exactly like he did hours ago, but the calm exterior that I was begunung to trust, was gone.
    “Charlotte,” he whispers to me. “I know what happened to Jonathan.”
    “No!” I scream, fear overtaking me.
Am I the bad guy here?
    “Charlotte you murdered-”
“NO!”
The good guy can’t kill, but that’s what I did. I killed someone.
“Charlotte we have to-”
I pick up the nearest object, which turns out to be a pen, and launched it at General Johnson with complete rage.
The pen slices through his heart with ease, and I hear it clatter behind him.
General Johnson seems as shocked as I am when he drops to his knees, blood starting to spill from his wound.
“How in God’s name!?” The Lieutenant shouts, bewildered.
“They….are….incredibly….strong,” General Johnson wheezes.
“We can never win this fight,” the Lieutenant bent his head down and whispers to himself. “Not if they are this strong.”
He continues to murmur to himself as I stand in horror of what I have done. Did I do this? Did he deserve this?
“That’s it,” the Lieutenant shouts suddenly, startling me out of my silence.
“What?” I ask lightly, not giving my full attention to him, but to the lifeless body of the General.
“Humans cannot win this,”  he utters silently, but strong. “Not against a whole army like you. I have to. I have to do it.”
“No,” I whisper, dejectedly. He’ll kill us all.
“We have to launch the bombs.” He picks up an object on his belt, I’m guessing his phone, and starts to talk into it.
“Code Red! Launch the atomic bombs!” He whispers sadly into the device.
“You’ll kill us all!” Mr. Smith screams.
“Good,” the Lieutenant hisses. “Now nothing can stop us from achieving our true goals! Not even an atomic wasteland. We will still rule!”
“What?” I whisper. He planned to take over? Did I just help with the destruction of Earth?
“Charlotte what have you done?” Mr. Smith cries out.
“I-I didn’t mean to,” tears brim my eyes. “I-I just wanted-”
“You killed us all,” he screams at me.
I stare at him in horror. Did he ever truly trust me, or was he just trying to stop me?
“I didn’t mean  to!” I shout back at him, and the fierce rage flushes back suddenly. It fills me and drives me.
I pick up another object and prepare to throw it, but then I heard two gunshots. Then I felt the pain in my chest, as the two bullets struck me.
“I cannot allow you to cause any more damaged. We thought enhancing human abilities could help us, but you ruined it!”
“M-Mr. S-Smith,” I murmur. “How-How could you?”
Mr. Smith lowers his gun, and quietly walks over to me. He drops down to one knee and places his hand on my cheek.
“You were too far gone,” he whispers.
The world starts to dim. I lose the edges of my vision, but I can  still feel the room shake violently. The atomic bombs must have exploded, and it’s my fault. I just murdered the people I desired  to save.
My world fades away, yet I have one last question to ask.
Was I the Nazi or the Jew?