Betrayed: Book Five of the State Series

by M. J. Kaestli

  Her mother dragged her to the edge of the dome, not to a door, but a large hole smashed into the side of the glass. Her mother contorted her body, working her way through then held out her hand.

  “Come on, Chastity. It’s not that hard.”

  Chastity looked around apprehensively, then stepped toward the glass. She bent and worked her way through the opening. Just as she thought she was clear of the glass, it caught her on her left calf, gouging deeply. Pieces of her flesh tore, exposing the bone.

  She tumbled to the ground and cried out in pain.

  Her mother turned around and looked down at her. “Well, what did you do that for? You’ve made quite a mess of things. Now you’re going to slow me down. I have to get to the mountain, I have important things to do.”

  “We’re going to the mountain?”

  Hope turned back, looking down at her, putting her hand on her hip. “Of course not, silly. I’m going to the mountain, you’re not smart enough to come with me. You’re going to the village to find your father.”

  Chastity stammered. “I can’t go to the village without you. I don’t know anyone—not even my father.”

  Hope frowned. “But you’ll fit in great there. They aren’t smart enough to become a part of the State. You’ve always been average but there—you might be special. That’s what you’ve always wanted.”

  Hope gave a slight wave as she started drifting towards the mountain, abandoning her there with her injury. Chastity looked down, realizing her bone was exposed, and she was standing in a pool of blood. She tore her sleeve from her shirt to make a bandage. It wasn’t enough. The blood spurted rhythmically with her heartbeat.

  She peered off to the side of the dome, discovering a pile of bodies stacked against the glass; her blood was mixing with a stream flowing from a stack of bodies piled high beside the glass.

  She stumbled closer, letting out a great cry, falling to her knees as she recognized Ursa’s body in the mass grave site. She scooted closer to Ursa, only her head and hand were accessible as multiple bodies were laid on top of hers.

  Chastity held her hand and stroked her hair. “Oh Ursa, what have you done?” Chastity wept into Ursa’s hair and kissed her forehead. “I knew it was a mistake. I knew being a part of the rebellion would lead to no good. Why didn’t you listen to me?”

  She would have stayed there by Ursa’s side, but two military personnel appeared, semi-automatic rifles drawn.

  “We found a live one here. Shoot her and put her in the pile with the rest.”

  Chastity threw her hands up defensively. “No, no! I’m not a part of the rebellion. This is all just a mistake.”

  He raised a beefy eyebrow. “If you’re out here, you’re part of the rebellion.”

  Just then, a third armed man came around the corner but this time, it wasn’t a military personnel.

  Lance.

  “Lance! What are you doing here?”

  He smirked “I don’t think you’re the one who should be asking questions.”

  “You know this girl?” One of the military personnel chimed in.

  “I did. I was coupled with her before she became a traitor to the State.”

  “Well then,” he nodded to Lance. “I think you get to be the one to shoot her.”

  Chastity flung her hands over her head as she gasped for air, jolting upright in her bed. She looked around to ensure she was safe, seeing Lance lurking in the door frame.

  “Lance, you’re home.” She began wiping tears away from her face.

  He stepped inside the room, moving around to the foot of the bed, wearing a sneer. “You’re a traitor. And I’m gonna make sure they execute you for treason.”

  Chastity shook her head, honestly confused. “What are you talking about? I was just sent home; the State wants us to be together. I thought you finished with your anger management.”

  “Oh, I did. They convinced me you aren’t having an affair with Victor—as you like to call him—but I knew there was something off about you. Now I know you’re a part of the rebellion, and someone named Ursa is too.”

  Chastity’s throat went dry and her heart fell through her stomach. “Lance, what are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”

  He threw his hands up in the air theatrically. “You were talking in your sleep. Confessing all your dark secrets about being part of the rebellion with your friend Ursa. Talking in your sleep is enough evidence to convict, everyone knows that.”

  Chastity shook her head. “Lance, I was having a nightmare. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It’s good enough for me; I’m arresting you. Now I don’t have to put up with your stupid ego and State House bullshit anymore.”

  She rose from their bed getting ready to flee or defend herself—she didn’t know which—but she had to do something. He stepped towards her, and she reflexively stepped back, tucked in the far corner of their bedroom.

  “I’m arresting you. You can either come willingly, or I have the authority as a Security officer to take you by force, traitor.”

  “No, you can’t. I didn’t do anything wrong!”

  Without a single word of protest, nor breaking his eye contact, he planted his fist in her gut. She collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

  “I’m more than happy to do this the hard way. Keep fighting me, Chastity. I dare you. You’re going down for this.”

  He leaned down to grab her, but she caught him off guard with a kick to his jaw. While he recovered his balance, she scrambled to her feet. He locked eyes with her, wiping a trickle of blood from his lips.

  “Oh, you’re going to pay for that.”

  He lunged at her, his hands aimed for her throat, pinning her against the wall. Panic overtook her as she gasped but couldn’t catch her breath. She brought her knee upwards sharply, but he anticipated her move, dodging his hips to the side.

  He laughed. “Can’t have you do that. I’m going to get a new partner after this; I’m going to need full use of my groin. I hope she isn’t a cold fish like you.”

  Blackness danced around her vision. This is it. If I can’t get him off me, I’ll be dead.

  Both her hands flew up, clamping onto his temples, digging her thumbs into his eye sockets. He cried out in pain, loosening his grip on her. She crumpled to the ground, back propped up by the wall. He rubbed at his eyes, then looked down at her. He wound up, kicking her leg with all the force he could muster.

  She flinched, coving her head protectively, curling into a ball on her side. He planted his foot into her stomach, pain shooting through her lungs, up her spine, and exploding behind her eyes. She whimpered, curling tighter into herself.

  He paused, looking down at her. “You know something. It might take a while till they find me a new partner. You’ve been holding out on me for so long, I think you owe me one last go, after everything I’ve put up with because of you.”

  He took a slight step back, his hands traveling down his jumpsuit, unlatching each button.

  Chastity knew exactly what he planned to do; she also knew that it would destroy what little was left of her. If she couldn’t break free, the State might as well execute her for treason. This was so much worse.

  Without a single conscious thought, her training kicked in, guiding her reflexes. She lifted her leg, reaching for her ankle holster, her gun. She raised her steady arm, took aim and squeezed the trigger.

  Lance looked up at her just as the bullet entered his chest. His expression flashed in confusion briefly at the sight of her firearm before the pain struck him. His face curled into a grimace as he grabbed his chest. He tried to take a step back but tripped on his jumpsuit and underclothing bunched around his ankles. His body fell hard, crashing to the ground.

  She fell back against the wall, tossing the gun down beside her, and began weeping uncontrollably. She wailed, louder and harder than ever before. She wept because she took a life, because she was about to lose hers, and because there was nothing left in her life worth l
iving for.

  She hardly noticed as the door flung open, and men ran into the room. They yelled orders amongst them, but her mind couldn’t process their meaning. A man grabbed her, sweeping her up in his arms. Her head fell back, and she saw Lance’s lifeless body lying on the floor. His eyes were still open, the same shocked look staring up at her.

  She closed her eyes. There was nothing left to see. She hoped her death would be painless, and that they wouldn’t make her wait too long before the State put her out of her misery.

  Chapter 37

  Chastity

  Everything blurred together in a foggy haze. She remembered being carried in a man’s arms and laid on a table, feeling a sharp prick in her arm. Her eyes flicked open in the dimly lit room, feeling pressure on her ankles and wrists from restraints. In her next moment of lucidity, she felt a gentle squeeze on her hand.

  Her eyelids struggled against the weight keeping them closed. She tried to turn her head, but soon realized her neck was in some sort of restraint, constricting her movement. She tried to speak, but her voice came out as a high-pitched shrill squeak, followed immediately by a burning pain.

  “Shh,” a thumb rubbed up and down her hand reassuringly, “don’t try to speak, not yet.”

  That voice, she would recognize it no matter how medicated she was.

  Victor.

  Victor was here, holding her hand. He had conspired with Dr. Rhetta to remove her from the State House, all for a man who wanted her dead so he could have a different partner.

  “Chastity, you are in the medical facility in the military underground. I asked that your restraints be removed, as I hope you can help me understand what happened. I know you can’t speak, but I was hoping you could type on a tablet.”

  He lifted the bed’s remote which caused her head to raise. She gasped in pain, a pain she wasn’t expecting from such a slow, subtle movement.

  “Sorry.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. I had to have them cut down your pain medication so we could talk.”

  Victor retrieved a tablet, holding it in front of her. She didn’t know if she could keep her arms lifted long enough to explain herself, so she had to keep her answers as short as possible.

  She looked down at the tablet trying to think of what to say, questioning if she should say anything at all.

  They have the Security footage; clearly, I killed my partner. What more does he want? Dr. Rhetta made it clear that I need to learn my place, and obviously I didn’t, or I would have let Lance have his way with me.

  She stared at the tablet, trying to choose her words. Her eyes squinted, focusing on the little text box awaiting her reply. Another thought struck her; why treat me if they only plan to kill me? The State doesn’t approve of waste, and my consumption of medical supplies must be at a premium.

  She needed to stall, buy herself some time to think. With one finger, she reached out and tapped a one-word reply: Foggy.

  Victor read her response and nodded. “Yes, you were heavily medicated and just woke up. I’m sorry to press you when you are in such a state, but because you killed your partner, they wanted to keep you restrained until we… until we understand exactly what happened.”

  He placed the tablet down on her bed. “I will get you some cold water. Maybe that will help you clear your head.” He walked out of the room, and her mind started spinning.

  She closed her eyes, replaying each scene of their fight in her mind. She tried to visualize what their bedroom looked like to those sent in to investigate. Could the wall have sustained any damage from her impacts? What did she look like when they found her? What did Lance look like?

  It was impossible to know how much damage he had done to her. Judging from the neck-brace and burning in her throat, she suspected his strangulation left a discernible mark. She thought of Lance, laying there with his under clothing around his ankles, exposing himself.

  It terrified her to hope for any fair treatment as she had seen first-hand how the State’s system seemed to favor men’s rights over women’s, but she had to be smart about this.

  What if, just what if the cameras couldn’t discern what their fight was about? What if Victor was here to ask her questions because they really didn’t know what happened? If the cameras didn’t pick up how their fight started, then Lance would appear to be the guilty party. If they knew he was trying to arrest her, then her life would be lost… and what purpose would they have to delay? She circled back to her original question: why treat me if they only intend to kill me?

  They don’t know, or at least don’t have enough evidence to convict me of treason.

  The hope she was repressing burst through, heating her chest into a glowing fire.

  I killed Lance in self-defense. That is what the evidence points to.

  Her mind spun, searching for the beginning of the story, of how it all began. What could she say sparked the disagreement that sent Lance into a rage? She not only had to create the story but figure out how to tell it in as few words as possible—something which might actually play to her advantage.

  Victor walked back into her room, carrying a large glass of water with a bent straw dangling over the top. He held the straw to her lips, and she sipped slowly. The pain caused from swallowing was intense, yet the refreshing cold, crisp water soothed her hot, dry throat.

  As he moved the glass away from her, she tried to take a deep, cleansing breath, yet instead cringed from the pain in her lungs and throat. He held the tablet out to her, and she raised one finger again, plunking away slowly at her story.

  Was napping.

  Victor glanced at the tablet. “Okay. You had a nap, were you asleep when Lance came home?”

  She raised her finger again, yet this time it trembled. This was it. She would piece together the evidence—the truth—while omitting what triggered it all.

  He tried to…

  Victor cast his eyes away, his color flushing, nodding his head. “It appeared that may have played into it.” He kept his eyes cast downward. “I take it you refused him, and then he responded with violence?”

  Her coloring flushed as she typed into the tablet.

  Yes.

  Victor nodded, still keeping his gaze cast away from her. “That is what I thought.” He nodded again. “From the photographs of his… exposure, and his file,” he shook his head. “He had been complaining to Dr. Rhetta about a lack of intimacy in your relationship since the first time she met with him. She told him to exercise more to burn off steam until your relationship improved…”

  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Now that I know you were sleeping when he came home, it all adds up.”

  Her heart flooded with warmth, relief, grief, anger. It appeared Victor saw Lance’s death as self-defense—which it truly was—but she was able to conceal the part of the story where she should be executed for treason.

  “Well, it is going to take some time for you to recover. I’m afraid you are going to be down here for a while. I need to make arrangements for when you are released,” he shifted again, “I need to decide where you are going to live. I know you once expressed a desire to live in the State House,” he lifted his gaze to meet hers, “and I was wondering if this incident—how Dr. Rhetta handled your case—well, I need to know if you’ve had a change of heart.”

  Her mind went blank, a ringing noise sounding in her ears. She had been so certain of her death, she hadn’t decided what her life would look like if she survived.

  He lifted the tablet to her. She stared at it blankly before she finally responded.

  Need time to…

  Victor nodded. “Of course. That’s fair.” He hesitated, looking at the door. “Would it be alright with you, if I state you have intentions of returning to both your duty and to live in the State House, then when you have recovered, if you change your mind…”

  She raised a hand. Although she didn’t know what the right decision would be, she knew him giving her a choice was a luxury she shouldn’t refu
se. She didn’t know if she could return there at all, let alone see him every day now that she knew what he did, and after all that had happened. Time to think before making a life-choice was the most freedom she had ever experienced.

  Yes.

  “I am relieved to hear that. I have always enjoyed working with you, and I have been miserable since you left.” He shook his head. “I just can’t stand those stiff military types who continually insist on addressing me formally.” His lips curled into a soft smile.

  He drummed his fingers on the tablet. “I think you will be happy to know, you will not be seeing Dr. Rhetta again. I don’t understand how she made such a mess of your situation. I have requested a different psychologist to deal with your trauma recovery—”