Talent Storm (34 page)

“Of course,” she said, looking down. “So... why did you listen to me earlier, when I told you to live?”

“Until then, I thought you were another illusion, sent to trick me. When I looked into your eyes, I knew that you were real and that you cared. I realized there was hope in life.”

She smiled, her cheeks rounding. “I do care and there is hope.”

I nodded. Losing Lilly was absolutely terrible, but at least I was with real people again. “After realizing you weren’t an illusion, I knew I had to help the Coalition. As much as I hate my life, I couldn’t abandon the few others I love. I just wish I wasn’t so miserable.”

Her head dropped. “I've felt how you feel.” She removed her hand from my back before holding her wrist in front of me. Her skin was marred by two long scars running up her arm.

I held her arm in one hand and the fingers of my other traced along her scars. “You too?”

For a moment she left her arm in mine, meeting my eyes. There was something in them that I couldn't read. “It doesn't have to be this way,” she said as she pulled back her hand. “Like you, I lost everyone that I'd loved when I was young.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sofia looked off into the corner of the room. “My parents were some of the most kind and loving people I've ever known. When food was scarce in the neighborhood, they would share theirs even though we didn't have much. My parents’ green thumbs allowed them to help others meet their crop quotas. I never went hungry or without properly mended clothes even though my parents suffered from both at times.”

I shook my head. We never had food shortages. Her childhood was so much different from mine. “It sounds like it was rough growing up anyway.”

“It sure was. My mother and father were social creatures, but gatherings were prohibited, so they felt isolated. So did I. Although random searches and beatings were common among the populous, my parents never did anything to warrant them. In fact, they never broke any of the ridiculous laws of Liberty. Except for one day.”

“What happened?”

“They were caught complaining to their co-workers about the lack of medical treatment my deceased sister had received.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

“I'm so sorry,” I said, feeling some of my empathy crawl out of the cage I’d banished it to.

She lowered her head, a few curls falling over her face. “My sister's name was Chloe and I loved her so much. She was small for her age of eight but was healthy until lumps formed on her neck and stomach. My parents and I grew terrified when a short time later she started getting terrible headaches, seizures and would vomit violently. Like all health problems she could have been cured by a talent healer, but healers are reserved for government officials, the rich, or the Talented.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said, shaking my head.

“It sure is,” she said. “The common folk have to petition to be healed and only a small percentage of us ever are. After that, Chloe started to drop weight until she was barely there. She passed away a short time later. I was twelve.” She clenched her fists.

“After she died, my parents wanted to change things. They began to lobby for better medical care for the people. My parents believed that by talking to others they could improve the lives of the people. When a supervisor overheard their complaints, their lives fell apart.” She gritted her teeth before continuing. “While the supervisor reported the information to a Duke, my parents snuck out. When they got home, they disclosed what happened before shutting me into the safety hole. I didn’t realize how serious things were until I heard a squad of loyalist troops smash into the house. My mother screamed, and I nearly went to help her. When my father’s yelling was cut short by a grunt, I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t let them hurt my parents.”

“What did you do?” I asked, leaning forward.

“I burst from the hole, to the surprise of two men, holding long knives. I heard several others downstairs. The way the one man eyed me up and down still makes my skin crawl. He crept toward me, licking his lips. Although the other man protested, it didn’t stop my attacker. It was then that I first glimpsed my talent.

“If the protesting man was angrier, I knew he’d help me. Instinctively, my talent intensified his anger until he growled like a rabid dog and stabbed his partner in the back. His partner collapsed, but it didn’t satiate the man’s anger. He approached me, his bloody knife raised and hate in his eyes. Although my parents still screamed, I knew I had to run. I sprinted toward the window, leapt into the glass, and shattered through it. I hit the ground and rolled to avoid injury. I ran until my legs were jelly, and I gasped for breath. I still regret it today.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“From there, everything got worse. Archduke Goldwater decided to make an example of my parents for the rest of the kingdom’s common folk. Speech is not free in
Liberty
.”
She sighed, her toned shoulders slumping. “Typically a duke handles the law violations in his or her section of Liberty. The first time penalty for speaking against the government is normally three days in the torture pits, but not this time. Government officials hung announcements throughout Liberty. The punishment was three weeks of torture before public execution.”

I shook my head. “Talent, no.”

Maybe the archduke was having a bad day, but that's the type of corrupt bullshit we have to deal with on a daily basis. Rules should be fair and consistent. They should be decided on by the people.”

I nodded. “It’s the only fair way.”

“Yeah.” She smiled at me, then lowered her head. “On the day of the execution, I hid near the stage surrounded by my neighbors. At the sound of a commotion, I turned to see Goldwater walking through the crowd. Everyone immediately fell to the ground, bowing low, their heads touching the courtyard rocks. I ducked behind a tree trunk and noticed that one man didn’t bow. Goldwater slowed, turned his head toward him, and nodded. The man immediately fell to the ground, but rather than just bowing, he began to smash his head onto the rocks. He continued until his head was crushed into pulp. Goldwater doesn’t tolerate dissention.

“The archduke took center stage like a god, in his gold-accented white suit. The onlookers stood, but remained silent with lowered heads. No one wanted to be there, but it was the law. I remember seeing a micro-frown flash on Goldwater’s face. No one else seemed to notice. His talent rolled into the crowd. Immediately, people looked up and cheered him, pumping their fists in the air.” Her nose scrunched up as she raised her upper lip “Their weakness disgusted me.”

“But they couldn’t hope to fight his power,” I said, remembering how he destroyed me.

Anger blazed in her chestnut eyes, and she growled, “I don’t care.”

I flinched back. “Sorry.” It seemed that her temper was as quick as mine was.

She closed her eyes, lowering her clenched fist. “No. I’m sorry. It still fires me up.”

“I know what that’s like. Please, continue.”

She took a breath and said, “I re-gripped my dagger, using my hate to give me energy. It was my chance to erase my past cowardice. I crouched, ready to launch myself at him, ready to kill or die. He turned his hard, unyielding face on me at the last second. His cold blue eyes were like poison. The single look paralyzed me and murdered my resolve. Did he know what I intended? Did he care? He must not have because he simply smiled, showing his perfect white teeth, then turned away. What did a god have to fear?”

“He’ll fear me.... I promise.”

“I don’t know if anyone can defeat him,” she said.

“I will.”

“Maybe, but you don’t know how powerful he is.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You saw him fight?” she asked, squinting her eyes.

“Yes... with me.”

“What? Really!”

“When I was in prison, he visited. He taunted me, rubbing Ben’s death in my face. I attacked him with the entirety of my talent. He crushed me; he could have killed me in a second.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“I don’t know exactly. He wants me for something, something more than just my information.”

“We can’t let him have you,” she said. “You said it yourself; you are no match for him.”

She grasped my hand, then pulled me to the bed. I relaxed, feeling my anger fade and said, “You’re right, but I’ll find away.”

Her brown eyes met and embraced mine. “Please, work with us. Work with me. We’ll do it together.”

I turned away, shaking my head. “I don’t know. I feel like I have to do it alone. Let me think about it,” I said even though I’d made up my mind. I had to kill him alone, to repay him. I wanted to see fear in his eyes, the same fear that all his victims experienced. “What happened next?”

“When my parents appeared from behind the curtains I was shocked to the core. They wore little more than rags. Their eyes were hollow and their bodies gaunt. They slumped, looking broken with cuts and bruises all over their visible skin. The crowd fell silent, lowering their heads again. Goldwater’s control isn’t absolute. I wanted to rescue my parents so bad, but instead I cried, unable to move. I'm still ashamed of my cowardice.”

“You were just a little kid,” I said. “There was nothing that you could have done.”

She pumped her white-knuckled fist. “I should have tried.”

Who knows what I would have done for my parents. I nodded. “You’re a good person.”

Her lips curled up into a smile. “Thanks. It’s nice for someone to recognize that.... My parents trembled, and I can only imagine what they felt. A muscular man stepped out, his face covered in a black shroud. My stomach sank when I saw the worn axe he held. He pushed my mom forward, and she stumbled up to the block. She stared out with empty eyes and said, ‘all I ever wanted was to help people.’ The executioner forced her to the block before raising his axe. Amazingly, despite Goldwater’s mind control, a few people in the crowd were crying. The axe fell, severing her head and breaking my heart.”

She reached into her pocket, pulled out a carved stone cat, and held it up. “This was my mothers, and it’s all I have left of her.”

She handed it to me. I examined it, then handed it back.

Sofia’s lip quivered and a tear glided down her rounded cheek. “My mother's execution shot life into my father. He always loved her. His eyes burned as he swung his chained hands at the executioner's face. For a moment, I thought it was my chance to rush the stage. I froze, though, as the executioner easily blocked the punch before throwing my father onto the block. Before the man could end my father's life, Goldwater ripped the axe from his hands and addressed the crowd. He said, ‘Disobedience equals death.’ He smiled sadistically as my father shouted, ‘remember this atrocity, fight for your rights.’ He repeated the last line until the axe cleaved his head.”

I hugged her. She laid her head on my shoulder, her curls tickling my neck. She cried for a while, then continued.
“After being taken care of for my entire twelve year old life, I was completely on my own. The people my parents sacrificed for daily, their friends, refused to help me. I know that they were afraid, but I was an innocent kid. After a few months of starvation and isolation, I couldn't take it anymore. My terrible emotional pain was made worse by a hard street life. I found a dark corner to cut myself in.”

The similarities between her life and mine were amazing. I put my hand on her shoulder. “I know what that feeling is like.”

She looked at my hand, smiling ever so slightly. “I know you do. That’s why I can open up to you. In all these years, I’ve never told the other rebels my story. I was too embarrassed.”

“You don’t need to be. You did your best.”

She met my eyes for a second before nodding. “Maybe so.”

“How did you live?”

“The Underground saved me. Valleri and Kevin were on a sabotage mission when they found me bleeding out. Kevin healed me, then they brought me back to their base. It's kind of why he thinks of himself as my big brother. Now, he’s saved my life more times than I can count. He’s saved us all. Life as a rebel can get pretty rough.”

I nodded. “How did you deal with the emotional aftermath? That’s what I’m having trouble with.”

She shifted her legs underneath her before looking up at me. Her demeanor completely changed as she smiled. She seemed to instantly forget her sorrows. “With much difficulty. When I lost my sister and my family, I nearly lost my mind. After I was taken in by The Underground, I learned to control my emotions through cognitive techniques that I developed.”

“What?” I asked, cocking my head.

“Cognitive, like thoughts. Thoughts have massive, possibly exclusive, control over your emotions. Based on what you think and how much you think about it, you can alter your emotions.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I’m an emp, I know these things. Think about it though. It’s terrible to live through traumatic events. Every time we think about those events, it’s like we’re experiencing them again. The more you dwell on the negative, the worse you’ll feel. If you can control of your thoughts, you can limit the pain.”

“Does it work well? I’ll do anything.”

“The technique has served me well. The horrors you’ve been through will be nearly impossible to erase, but it will help. If you find yourself dwelling on negative thoughts, shout ‘stop’ in your head while picturing a stop sign. You’ll disrupt the thoughts, allowing yourself to focus on something else. It takes practice and diligence, but it works.”