Renegade: A Young Adult Dystopian Read online

  Tears slipped from her eyes, and all she could do was stare at the nurse, her mind scrambling. “What are these things around me? What’s a hospital?”

  The nurse tensed, tilting her head. “Darling, what do you mean?”

  Her voice climbed. “I don’t know what these things are! A nurse, a hospital! Where am I?” She was yelling as she succumbed to the panic.

  The nurse pressed a button, and coolness spread through her veins and the world tilted once more. “Emory, breathe, you are going to be okay. Everything will be okay.” Everything started to dissolve and bleed away, becoming blurry. It was her fading whispers that filled her.

  “I don’t know where I am... I don’t know...” Her words carried her to a place where nothing was focused, and she drifted, lost amongst the current.

  22

  Emory

  Two Months Later

  “Emory, you will need to talk to us for this to work.”

  She stared down at her hands, memorizing each detailed line and crinkle of her skin, not wanting to look up at the woman posted across the desk from her. Her hair was tightly bound in a perfect bun, her black wardrobe too stuffy and too crisp. The folder laid open on the table, the sheets rustling against one another with each turn of the fan.

  Two months had passed since she had been found. Each day she fell deeper into her pain, and not knowing anything about where she came from or who she was dug her deeper and deeper into this insanity. Nurses. Social workers. Therapists. They all looked at her like she either had two heads or with such a dark pity it made her want to throw up. Or punch something. And the more Emory learned about this world, she dreamt that she had lived a fantasy, that maybe, just maybe, she was destined not to fit here. Any notion that didn’t fit the mold was discredited without a moment’s breath.

  “Emory?”

  Exhaling hard, she wrenched her gaze up to meet the woman’s imploring gaze as she cooly snapped, “I already told you everything. Repeatedly.”

  The corners of her mouth twisted down. “Honey, its okay to be scared to tell the truth.”

  She swallowed her retort down, and went back to staring at her hands.

  The woman sighed, fidgeting with her hands as Emory set her resolve, and her silence was unrelenting. The seconds bled into minutes. The minutes into hours. Finally, she grabbed the papers, her voice soft. “I will leave you with this question, how does thinking of your family make you feel?”

  Snapping her eyes up, she looked at her hawk-ridged nose and her sharp eyes. In this too pale room, to these relentless people. Her nails dug into her skin. “I don’t know.”

  Her face crumpled, and she watched as she collected her papers. “You know you can call me any time you need.”

  She just stared and watched as she left, leaving her card behind on the table. The door clicked, and Emory loosened a shaky exhale, holding her head in her hands. Sweat collected at the base of her neck, slowly trickling down her skin. The walls seemed too close, the air too hot. It has been sixty days. Sixty days of confusion, of frustration. Tears burned, brimming in her eyes as she shut them, gnashing her teeth together. She had danced along the edges of her mind, diving into that empty carved-out hole in her heart. It wasn’t that she didn’t give them an answer. It just wasn’t the answer they wanted. And with the truth screaming at them in their faces, she was pushed away, deemed unfit, labelled and tossed to the side for examination.

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway and she snapped up, angrily wiping at her eyes, composing herself as the door swung open, revealing a grumpy looking Lourie. “Well, are you ready?”

  Her chair screeched back and she stood, nodding stiffly. The stale smells of must and coffee drifted toward her, and she curled her lips. They left the room behind, entering a poorly lit hallway. Continuing in silence, Emory followed her, her heart dropping with every second. There had been no trace of her, no trace of anything. Naturally, she was put into what she learned was foster care, and Lourie had come into her life. As her foster mother, she was thrown into a repetitive schedule of daily scowls and the dullest life possibly imaginable, waiting as she was dragged through therapy and different medication line ups.

  Lourie threw open the door, and the crisp wind hit them like a wall. The tinges of fall bled through the world, and the world was painted in golden and fiery hues. Lourie’s car was parked at the curb and Emory faltered, breathing in the heady scent of change flickering through the air. The city was a kingdom of grey and at the heart of it—a labyrinth of cement. But on the outskirts, a wildness bred gatherings of looming trees, the bulk of dark woods. The leaves crinkled in the breeze, their blazing colors flashing as they were ripped from their branches.

  Her pulse thrummed, and she stared, that thread in her gut pulling her into its hold. In her dreams, they bloomed of a place born from fire and ash, of ice and secrets. Of shadows that chased her, called to her. And not only did she feel at peace, but exhilarated, her longing of her dreams and fears fiercely clawing through her barriers of doubt. But always reality crashed into her, and she awoke to blurring images, to the taste of longing in her mouth. But nothing more.

  “Are you coming?” She honed her gaze with narrowed eyes at an eye-rolling Lourie. Heat flared through her, and taking a deep breath, she took one step forward. And then another. Closer and closer to the car, her fate sealed with an iron hold. But her heart soared, settling into the darkness of the wilderness, of the unknown, and she knew that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t lost at all.

  23

  Emory

  Six Years Later

  The lights in the movie theater dimmed as she shivered, pulling her button-down jacket tighter around her. Grabbing her pop absentmindedly, she took a big gulp, the mixture of overly sweet and fizzing sugar calming her nerves. The previews jumped to life in front of her as his warm voice tickled her ear. “This one looks good!”

  Internally groaning, she wanted to roll her eyes at her well-groomed date, Kane. From his sweeping dark hair to his deep eyes and really, really, good sense of humor, she should have been in heaven. The voice of her coworker, Moore, sliced through her mind. “Give him a chance, Em! What’s not to like, super-hot and he reads?”

  She scowled wishing her best friend had not convinced her to rip away from her well-loved reading chair and more importantly her routine. First, making a cup of tea, her worn sweat pants and reality bleeding away as she lost herself in realms of fantasy.

  The movie started rolling, and settling in, she chased Moore’s voice out of her mind, reassuring herself that she should be happy. Her dating life had been hit and miss, mostly meaning she wasn’t interested. But Kane was nice, a decent guy, and if she was being honest with herself, was not that hard on the eyes. She dug into the popcorn, the salty, buttery masterpiece filling her senses, and she pushed every thought from her mind.

  The dark tones of the instruments sprung to life, setting up the perfect set for the horror movie she had chosen to see. Settling in, she was transported as the movie pulled her in, and she was lost. A half hour later she was chewing on her nails as the two main characters booked their weekend away and became lost in the mountains. Kane leaned closer as her heart raced, every instinct screaming in her that this movie was terrible, that the characters were one hundred percent going to die. She loved every second anyways. She felt him lean in, his breath tickling her neck, as she tensed. He stalled, awkwardly staying half-leaned in, as they watched the carnage unfold. She stuffed her face with another handful of popcorn, internally wishing that she didn’t listen to Moore and her guidance to look put together for tonight. His hand slowly and gently brushed her knee, and she almost choked. Taking this as an encouragement, Kane leaned in, searching for her neck, her cheek, her lips.

  Her body reacted first, leaning away. “Kane, can we just watch the movie, please?” Her voice was smooth and clipped, coming off cold.

  In the semi-darkness, she saw his brows furrow, but his voice was gentle. “Yeah, absolutely.�
�� He settled back into his seat, and the tension in her chest uncoiled as she took in a shaky breath. Not a lot made her nervous or set her on edge. Yet, when it came to dating, it completely unraveled her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested or that she didn’t want a companion. Her eyes flicked briefly over to Kane, who was immersed in the movie as the music climbed, building the perfect tension just before the chaos. She chewed her lower lip as she brought her attention back, her heart pounding against her chest. She just hadn’t found the person that she thought would be worth taking the chance on. That ignited her to want more.

  The movie passed in a blur of blood and dark twists, and when the lights brought the theater back into life, she stretched happily. “Well, that was what I needed in my life.” Kane raised his dark brows in question and got up silently. Her heart sank as she followed, putting on her knee-length jacket, her ebony hair braided back, her leather boots buckled against her jeans. They left the theater and she caught glimpses of herself in the stainless-steel patches against the wall, her golden eyeshadow flaring her emerald green eyes to life, her blood-stained lips flawless against her pale skin. She internally swore at Moore and her makeup skills.

  Kane spun around before they exited to the parking lot. “Look, Em.”

  He nervously ran his hands through his hair, and she cut in before he could continue. “Thank you for tonight, Kane, really. I will text you later?” Before he could gather his thoughts, she quickly hugged him and then pulling away, started to walk toward her car. She pushed through the doors, the summer air licking against her face. She nearly always dressed like she lived in a constant state of fall even though during the day. Humidity clung heavy in the air, slicking everything with condensation. She sifted through her shoulder bag, found her jingling keys, and followed the light beep of her car sounding off to her left. Her mind was on auto pilot as she looked up to the clear night sky, searching for her answers. Any answers. As usual, the winking shimmering stars blinked down at her a million miles away, taunting her.

  Hissing through her teeth, she opened the door and got comfortable. Throwing her bag onto the passenger seat, she had the inclination to pound her forehead against the steering wheel. She decided to start the car and make her way home, her mind throbbing painfully, knowing exactly what Moore would say. Her body went numb as she raced beneath the streetlights in the city that was a cage to her, but like most things in her life, she had grown accustomed to it.

  “Oh, come on!” She growled, her keys stubbornly sticking in the lock. She wrenched them to the right, and the door eased underneath her grip and swung open. The low lighting from the lamp left on brightened her apartment with warm glow. She smiled, throwing her coat and bag on the well-loved couch, the grandfather clock ticking soothingly amongst her stuffed bookcases. Her phone buzzed distantly, but ignoring it, she walked down the hallway, kicking off her shoes and letting her hair down in one motion. As the night grew longer, thunder rumbled in the distance, the promise of summer storms lingering in the air.

  Her phone buzzed again in the living room, and she knew Moore had been waiting up. Her friend would have to wait until the morning. She flopped on her bed, her blankets molding around her body. Groaning, she soaked it in. Having her freedom for the last three years has been pure bliss. This was all she ever wanted. No more pushing from Lourie, no more families looking to adopt her, no more of anyone shaping her into someone she didn’t want to be. No more disappointment. She had come from somewhere, where people knew her, her past, her family. And until she figured out what had happened, she would dictate her future. It was no one else’s decision. She rose from her bed, shimmied out of her jeans, and put on a worn baggy t-shirt as she flicked the lights off. Outside her window, lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating disjointed shadows and structures before plunging back into darkness. Flinging herself back onto her bed, she buried herself beneath the blankets just as the rain started to fall, lulling her into oblivion.

  Like usual, she dreamt of the forest. The lush canopy of leaves, the world around her blooming with life, and of course, the alluring secrets hidden in its heart. Her face broke into a wolfish grin as she whispered into the air. “Are you here?”

  The wind tousled her hair, the towering trees filtering a soft light, and she stepped forward, abandoning all rational thoughts, all aspects of reality, waiting to hear his voice. A voice that was the warm brush of calm, of reassurance, of home. At first, as a teenager, she thought of him as her guardian. A spirit amongst the living only meeting in her dreams. Delusion, yet a reality to her. The first time, she had woken so shaken, the world was churning. She had thought she would never see these woods and him again. The second time, she wished to never wake up. It was an intoxication and addiction of being high and far away from her reality, and she desired it. Needed it. But as the days blurred to months, the months to years, he had never left her and had always called her back. Back to the earthy reprieve, and to him. It was here, she felt safe. It was here, where fantasy took over.

  “Emory.” Shivers raced up her spine, turning her nerves into mush. She exhaled, slowly as she took him in. They had to be around the same age. His long, blond hair was tied back, his strong angular face hiding secrets and temptations tucked within the corners of his mouth. Her gaze roamed, uncontrolled and blatant, working from his jawline, to the crook of his shoulder. His loose shirt clung to the edges and valleys of his muscles. He radiated, and it was all for her.

  “Emory.” As he strode toward her, everything else faded away. Dream, reality, she didn’t care about the definition. Her feet carried her, not faltering, as she closed the space between them. His strong hands cupped her face gently, securely, the warmth from his fingertips flushing her skin. Resting his forehead against hers, she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of fresh rain and mint. “Em.” No, don’t say it. Please, do not say it. “He is coming for me. For us both.” Her eyes lids fluttered open, taking in his ice-blue eyes. A snap of the twig sliced through the woods, and nervous tittering rippled around them. He froze and she could practically taste the tension rolling off him.

  “Memphis.” Snap. Snap. Snap. “Memphis.” She was thrown backward, and the world was devoured in flame. Fire towered above her, eating away at the trees, the lush leaves. She could taste the ash, clogging her throat, blinding her, tickling her skin like she was standing in the eye of the storm. Rolling, she tried to stand, to scream, to escape the nightmare. Golden eyes flashed through the haze. “Run.” Memphis’s voice hooked into her mind, her heart, the marrow of her bones. Teeth flashed as his screams grew desperate and terrified around her. “Em, Run!”

  She wheezed through the smoke, her lungs clotting, vision spinning. The ground shook behind her, and she pumped her arms faster. She flung herself forward faster and faster until gravity left her. Her teeth sank into embers and dirt. Spitting and coughing, her flesh burned, but she tried to stand, to keep going. Sharp claws ripped through her pants, shredding skin and muscle. Bile clawed up her throat as she was dragged backward screaming. She was flipped on her back and expected to see a monster.

  Instead, a man smiled down as the flames crackled hungrily around them, the scenes dancing in her eyes. His golden eyes narrowed and he leaned in closer, like a lover’s embrace as he whispered, “Emory.” From his knuckles, smooth, inky talons ripped free. They stroked up her legs and sides, trailing along her shoulders. He whispered, “Come back to me.” Her scream lodged in her throat as he smiled and drove his claws down, the world tipping then disappeared.

  Her body was soaked in sweat. Cold and heavy, her skin prickled as she tried to still her racing pulse. Her room took shape under the blanket of the night, thunder rolling ominously. Her tongue felt thick and swollen as she got her bearings. Her legs were tangled in her comforter, her hair sticky and slick. Breathe. Just breathe. She looked to the walls surrounding her as the lightning flashed, illuminating everything before plunging again in the darkness. Her pile of laundry, assortment of books
, her mish-mashed dresser. No trees. No thicket of woods. No two men. One, a mystery, a gravitating calm that pulled at her. The other, a killer. A monster.

  She shuddered, frowning as she pulled her sheets closer around her. It was just a dream. One she had in variations since she was a teenager. Always ending the same. Always in blood. In fire. In ash. Groaning, she pulled the sheets over her head, laying back down. Thunder rolled, a growing tempo, as she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping she could get more sleep and thanking the forces in the universe that she was off tomorrow. She drifted, piercing eyes and soft murmurs chasing at her heels, trying to lead her back, and she allowed them too.

  Part 3

  Dark King

  24

  Memphis

  Six Years Earlier

  He just stared at the empty space where both of his best friends had been. The snow, the ice, and the howls seemed a world away as his hands trembled and tears streaked down his cheeks. What had he done? He paced, bile searing his throat. The aches in his bones and in his bruised and bloodied skin roared in pain, but he couldn’t stand still. What had he done? His mind reeled as the air around him churned, as if being sucked in toward itself, only to expand, blasting energy backward as Brokk reappeared swaying.

  He surged, spittle flying from his mouth as he gasped. “Is she safe? Brokk?”

  “She’s safe.” He looked down to his shaking hands. Dread pooled in his stomach as he looked to his friend, as he swayed, and as relief flooded through him. He closed the space in between them in two seconds, his muscles constricting as his fist flew, cracking against his jaw and snapping it backward. Blood stained the white snow as Brokk swiveled back toward him, ebony claws bursting from his knuckles.