by Sara Daniell
AN UNFORTUNATE JOURNEY
Copyright © 2015, 2017 Sara Daniell
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by H2O
an imprint of BHC Press
Library of Congress Control Number:
2017938451
Print edition ISBN numbers:
Hardcover: 978-1-947727-17-5
Softcover: 978-1-947727-18-2
Also available in audio
Edited by Hannah Loomis
Proofreading by Kathrine J. Ivy
Visit the author at:
www.saradaniell.com &
www.bhcpress.com
Book design by Blue Harvest Creative
www.blueharvestcreative.com
Edited by Hannah Loomis
THE STOCKBRIDGE NOVELS
Summer Seventeen & You
Under the Owl Tree
STAND-ALONE NOVELS
A Life Unexpected
Anything Goes On a Friday Night
ANTHOLOGIES
A Winter's Romance
In Creeps the Night
On the Edge of Tomorrow
To my daughters,
Make every moment YOUR moment.
You’ve only got one shot at this life. Make it count.
Dying is easy.
It is living that scares me to death.
~ Annie Lennox ~
I never thought one decision could change my life forever. I made a horrible decision. Now, my nightmares don’t come while I’m asleep, but while I’m awake.
I’m hunted day and night. They are out for my blood. I wish I knew why they wanted me dead. Then maybe I could understand, and I would make it easy for them—let them kill me. But I don’t. So I fight. I trust no one. I’m living a life of pure hell, and I’m afraid that there is no way out.
I just want to go home…
The halls at school seem darker today. And by that, I mean happier and bubblier than usual. Brightly colored posters plaster the brick walls, exuding the fake happiness forced upon us. The place is flowing with joy for everyone except me. It feels eerie and corrupt. Felix walks beside me on our way out of the doors, happy as ever. I roll my eyes and wonder why I’m so different. It would be so much easier if I were like the rest of them.
“Promise me you’ll leave the Kendyl situation alone. She already apologized and sat in the office all afternoon yesterday. If we bring too much attention to the situation we could all end with ropes around our necks. Minors or not. Promise, Orion.”
I don’t look at my brother. He knows his begging won’t help any. I warned him: if she did it again, I was saying something.
Kendyl is a lot like me. She isn’t a conformist, and she plays by her own rules. What sets us apart, though, is her ability to fake apologies and make others believe she truly meant no harm. I couldn’t fake an apology if I tried.
The Constables have had their eyes on her and me. Since we’re minors, we get more chances. But if we don’t have our shit together by the time we’re eighteen, it’s off with our heads. Literally. I turn eighteen in seven days. Dwellers have been taking bets on how long I’ll stay alive.
I see Kendyl walking towards her group of friends and veer off in her direction. Felix groans as he follows me. “I swear Orion, you’re a damn lunatic.”
I hand him my backpack and pick up my pace. “Kendyl!” I shout.
She turns to face me as an audience forms around us. “You better be careful. They’re watching,” she says, twirling her finger around in the air.
“And they have been for a while now. So what?”
“I already apologized and did my time in the office yesterday.”
“Nice, but now you’re dealing with me. You need to leave my brother alone. Spreading rumors about him just because you’re pissed he wouldn’t date you is bullshit. Those rumors caused a lot of shit at home and trust issues with him and our parents.”
“I was angry with him and acted in ways I shouldn’t have. I met with a therapist, and I’m working through my inner turmoil. Maybe you should do the same, Orion.”
And there she goes feeding me and the crowd of classmates with her plethora of lies. I stop listening because the sound of her voice feels like needles jabbing into my eyes. I don’t buy into it. She’d do it again and repeat the same sob story. The Dwellers are also taking bets on how long she’ll last once she turns eighteen. I’ll most likely be hanged right next to her.
I roll up my right sleeve, flexing my hand before making it into a tight fist. I hear Felix’s sharp intake of breath as he realizes what I’m about to do. He may have even just said my name in warning, but I’m not sure. All I concentrate on is connecting my fist with her mouth. Someone has to make her shut up.
My fingers wrap tightly in her hair, pulling her to a halt as she tries to bolt. I use my right foot to kick the back of her legs and tighten my fingers in her hair as I go to the ground with her. I straddle her lap, keeping my right hand in her hair and use my left to punch her repeatedly. My knuckles are sticky and warm from her blood. I’m about to go for her nose when forceful hands pull me off of her and drag me into the school.
“MS. DRAPER, WHY do you find it so hard to control your negative emotions? All we are asking is that you do your best to remain positive. We understand that it is difficult, but this is something you should have control of by now. You were taught this in grade school, and you’re almost eighteen. What is it that makes you so angry? It seems that your fellow classmates are in harmony with one another. Then there is you,” he replied. My principal didn’t like me very much.
“What makes me angry is this, Sir. Hiding our emotions. If someone pisses me off, I’m not going to act as if everything is okay. I’m going to do something about it.”
“But, that is how we live in peace with one another. Showing negative emotions creates a dangerous storm between Dwellers. We strive for peace and harmony. It’s better to let things go. Live in peace. Do you not want that, Ms. Draper?”
I look out the window instead of answering him.
He rustles through some papers on his desk and releases a deep, heavy sigh that seems to linger for several unnecessary seconds. “This will be the third time this year we have to expel you.”
I huff. “Kendyl has to be stopped.”
“She apologized, Orion. You refuse to do the same. Even worse, you inflicted physical pain upon her. That is unacceptable.”
I shrug.
“You’re not supposed to feel angry. That is what has me concerned. We operate in peace. The Constable is now involved because of your actions spiraling out of control.”
The last words he says to me trickle off his tongue in a warning tone. “Orion, I hope one day soon the demons of anger latched onto your soul will leave you, and if you don’t find some way to rid yourself of them, God help your soul.”
The awkward silence in my therapist’s office is filled with ticking as seconds pass while I’m waiting for him to speak. Now that I’m eighteen, my punishment is different for my lack of conforming to the Constables’ laws on emotions. Anger management. I’m not sure why they are even giving me a chance now that I’m considered an adult. I don’t question it out loud, though.
&nb
sp; My nose begins to itch, so I start rubbing it. This office is stuffy and dusty. The leather couch is cold and stiff. I could name a million things wrong with this environment. But, the main thing wrong in this environment is me. I don’t belong here. Where I belong is in the middle of Dandux, hands tied behind my back with a black sack draped over my head. Not here. Why am I being given chance after chance? I should be grateful, but instead I’m confused and a little afraid.
The therapist is sitting in his swivel chair, slightly turning it from side to side, looking intensely at his clipboard, eyebrows furrowed, and chewing on the tip of his pen. I sort of feel sorry for him. He has been given the impossible task of figuring out what is wrong with me and fixing it. I bet he knows he’s my last hope of survival. I wonder what that kind of burden feels like? Poor guy.
Peeking up from his clipboard, he looks at me for a brief moment. His eyes avert back to his clipboard, and I listen to the pen scribble on the paper. Finally, breaking the silence, he asks, “Do you know why you are here today?”
My latest transgression is probably the most absurd thing I’ve been in trouble for. I mean, what was I supposed to do when I saw that man stealing? I understand that they don’t want us doing anything about it ourselves; we are to notify the Constables, and they will handle it. But in that moment, I couldn’t help it. He was doing something very wrong, and I was going to stop him. And, stop him, I did. In my mind, that was the right thing to do. But according to the Constable, it wasn’t okay to yell and fight to stop someone who was doing wrong. I acted, “monstrously”. Their words, not mine.
I sneeze before answering. “To dust your dusty office?” I slowly run my finger across an end table and proudly show him the black dust on my finger, as if trying to convince him that it is, indeed, a logical reason for being here. Maybe if I make him hate me he won’t feel so bad watching me die.
He pinches the bridge of his long nose and exhales deeply. “Try answering again, please.”
I smile inwardly as I prepare to piss him off more. “To dust your dusty-as-hell office?”
He changes his expression from frustrated to comforting. “Please be serious. I’m here to help you.”
“Do you know how to help me? What if there’s nothing wrong with me?” I challenge him, doing my best to make him dislike me more. He can’t help me, so I’ll help him by keeping his conscience clear when the unfixable Orion Draper is hanged in the streets.
“I will know how to help you after you answer a few questions. I only need your willingness to open up and answer them honestly.”
I laugh and lean forward, looking at his agitated eyes. “You probably won’t like my honest answers, Sir. No one does.”
I hate how the Constable tries to hide the imperfections of Dwellers. It’s absurd. Trying to act as if we are perfect beings with no real issues to complain about? That is an issue in itself. I am who I am, and I decided a long time ago that I would not conform to the “fakeness” of my Sphere. And even if I wanted to for the sake of conformity because it’s easier, I can’t. It’s impossible. I may be an outcast, but that is better than not being real. If that makes me appear to be angry, then oh well.
He forces a smile on his face. “I don’t have to like your answers to help you.”
I raise my eyebrows. “What if I don’t want to be helped?”
He gives a small laugh and says, “I don’t think you have a choice.”
I sit up straighter and give him an intimidating stare. “Oh, I have a choice.”
Ignoring my response, he says, “We should get started with the questions.” He leans back, crosses one leg over the other, and peers down at his clipboard.
“Are those the questions, there on your clipboard?” I ask.
“Yes.” He peeks up at me.
“Wow, you came prepared for this, didn’t you?” I laugh and lean back into the couch. I scoot around a bit, making shuffling noises as my clothes rub against the cold, stiff leather.
“I always prepare for my clients. Now, can you please answer my question, honestly: why you are here today?” He touches his pen to the corner of his mouth, waiting for my answer.
My lips curl into a smart-ass smile. “I did answer honestly before. To dust your dusty office. It’s a real mess in here. It’s hard to take you seriously when it is this dirty in what is supposed to be a professional place. And, you need a more comfortable couch. I don’t think I can be honest with a man who doesn’t believe in the importance of comfortable furniture.” I watch his expression change, and I know I’ve pushed his buttons. Again.
He slams his clipboard onto his bony knees and starts frantically pacing the perimeter of his office. I laugh at him then lie back on the couch as he struggles with his own emotions.
I close one eye, watching him with the other. I dig my bouncy ball from my jean pocket and begin throwing it in the air and catching it as it falls. He’s talking to himself, and I wonder if I’m the only one who needs the “help”. If someone caught him showing these “negative emotions”, he would be in anger management as well. And this is why I’m pissed. This poor guy is pissed off by me, and he’s struggling because he’s getting angry. The man could explode any second, but he’s scared to. He’s scared to show anything but a smile.
After counting to ten, more than once, he hesitates then sits back down in his swivel chair. He slowly rolls closer to me and stares at me with annoyance evident in his gray eyes, but still manages to smile.
“Anger management, my Dear. Ang-”
I roll my eyes and sit up. “I heard you the first time. May we please just get this over with? We both know my fate.”
He ignores me and begins asking me personal questions and asking me, “how do you feel about that”, after he states a reason for my behavior. I want to scream. I don’t have anger issues. I’m different.
With annoyance dripping from each word, he asks, “Are you hearing anything that I’m saying to you, Ms. Draper?”
“Yes,” I reply with a cold, bitter tone.
It’s all a bunch of bullshit. The Constables want us to live in harmony and claim to be against physical harm, yet they have hangings in the middle of town every Thursday morning to punish those who do wrong. Shouldn’t they be drenching them with flower petals and singing songs of happiness, trying to rid them of the evil in their souls? Like I said, a bunch of bullshit. All of it. Now, here I sit, with a therapist to determine the reason behind my actions. I’m labeled as angry and out of control, the cold-hearted bitch, all because I don’t smile when things are going wrong. They say my emotions are unnatural, but I’ll tell you what’s unnatural: it’s smiling when innocent Dwellers are hung on Thursdays; it’s smiling when knowing deep down something isn’t right about the Sphere we live in. It’s an uneasiness I’ve lived with my whole life. The constant feeling that something is very wrong stays festered up inside of me like a nasty disease.
“Then why are you not answering me?” He demands.
“I don’t have anything to say to you, nor do I have answers to your silly questions.” I stand up and place my bouncy ball in my pocket. “May I leave now?”
“We are required one hour together.”
I walk to the door and place my hand on the door knob. Before exiting, I say, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Once I’m in the outdoors of Dandux, I head straight home. My house is surrounded by other houses that all look the same. Boxy and white with a few windows. I spot the numbers 952 and the large chunk missing from the top step on the porch. My father wanted to fix it, but I begged him not to. It’s the only thing that sets us apart from the others.
“How did it go?” Felix asks as soon as I walk through the door. I close the door behind me, slump my shoulders, and give him “the look”. He starts laughing. “I assume it went well, then?”
“Just peachy. He told me I was a sweetheart. He couldn’t understand why I was even there.” We both laugh. “Honestly, I think the next time I go there, I’m go
ing to bring explosives. Put us both out of our misery.”
He cocks an eyebrow and half-grins. “That bad?”
I take a deep breath and let it out. “Worse. But it’s my fault. You know how I am.”
I sit down on the couch and prop my feet up on the coffee table. “Where are the ones who call me daughter?”
“I think the Constables wanted to meet with them. They said something about your blue hair being a distraction to other Dwellers. I think they’re going to hang you, and the ‘rents had to go sign the agreement papers.” I take off my shoe and throw it at my annoying brother. He hates my hair, but I love it.
He successfully dodges my shoe and laughs. “I really don’t know where they are. Anyway, what are your plans for tonight?”
“I think I’m going to hang out with Sage. We haven’t hung out since I’ve been labeled the big, bad, angry monster of Dandux.”
“You mean her parents are allowing her to?”
“Yes. They have known me since I was pissing in a diaper. They know that I’m different but not angry like the rest of Dandux believes me to be. Besides, I’m sure I’ll be dead soon, and they want me to enjoy time with my best friend before,” I make a slicing motion with my hand against my throat.
“Not funny.”
I MEET SAGE at the Quest, the only place that’s actually fun to hang out in for teen Dwellers. To be honest, it’s the only place we’re allowed to hang out—according to the Constables’ laws.
“Hey, where is everyone at?” I look around. “This place is usually packed by now. “
“The Constables are having a meeting. Everyone stayed home.” Sage is hanging upside down on a bench with her legs stretched towards the sky. Seeing her long ginger hair makes me wish I hadn’t chopped all of mine off. I miss the convenience of throwing it back into a ponytail. Now it hangs short and untamed in my face.
