We had gotten back maybe about two hours later with multiple bags in tow. I had dresses upon dresses, along with more shoes than I could probably count. Lucas looked a bit worn out as well, but he was obviously too proud to admit it.

¨Did we really have to get all of this? How long am I supposed to stay here?” I pry. He heaves the multitude of bags up onto my bed with an exasperated grunt.

“Better safe than sorry. You might be staying here a month or longer, and there are…a lot of parties. Typical for the higher-ups, I supposed. They would rather drink than do their damn job.” He lets out a sigh. Ignoring the rest of his sentence, I question him.

“A month?”

“Yep, safety precautions. Apparently, they think you’re dangerous enough to hurt the upper city. Also, what’s this I heard about you killing a savage the other day? I saw it on the store security camera.” he asked antagonistically.

A long pause.

“Well, I won’t say that it was an accident. But to be fair, he was trying to kill me, so…” I trail off slowly.

He tilts his head to the side, “You know that’s a Sentinel’s job, right?” he asks rhetorically. I choose my next words carefully.

“Well, you can’t save everyone.”

He throws his hands up in surrender, “Alright, alright.”

I look up at the grandfather clock in the corner of my room to check the time. The pendulum inside swung back and forth methodically, almost putting me into a trance.

“Wow, it’s only noon. I expected it to be much later than that-” I began.

I was interrupted by a series of rapid knocks coming from the door. On the other side, the voice of an eager girl echoed.

“Hey! Hey! Are you in there, new girl?” she yelled. I look back to Lucas, who gestures for me to open the door. I sigh and got up from my place on the bed to open it. Before I could even open the door, the girl bursts through and latches onto me, squeezing me to the point where I couldn’t breathe.

“Too tight!” I gasp.

“Oh! Sorry, I got a bit carried away,” she said, pulling back from me and tucking a piece of her bright ginger hair behind her ear, “Wow! You’re beautiful!” She took a step back to look me over and paused.

“Of course, you could use a spa day. You’re a bit rough around the edges,” she continues, gesturing towards my chipped nails, various scars, and scabs.

“Wait, wait, wait, who are you?” I asked, kind of freaked out by her over-the-top enthusiasm. I looked at her to fully examine her features. Bright ginger curls, dark brown eyes, and a massive splash of freckles covering her cheeks and nose. She was a lot taller than me, too, though that wasn’t saying much , considering I was only 5’2. But she was even taller than Lucas, who seemed to be enjoying my reaction to her eccentric personality.

“I’m Emma! A pleasure to meet you!” she says, sticking out a hand to me. I return her handshake and laxen a bit.

“Blair, likewise,” I responded.

She gives me a bright smile and looks at me over again, “You’re pretty skinny, do you eat much?” she asked.

I stood, taken aback. She immediately took back her question.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to sound so inconsiderate!” she pleads. I shook my head vigorously to signal that I wasn’t bothered.

“No, no! It’s alright. I have enough food back at home to keep me alive, so don’t worry about it.”

She shook her head, trying to apologize, “No, please, I shouldn’t have spoken about your figure like that. You really are beautiful!”

I sigh again, “Emma, please, you look like a model. You’re lucky you have such long legs. My growth has been stunted since I was 13. Seriously, I took no offense!”

It was Emma’s turn to sigh, “Oh, alright…” I could see a thought cross her mind as her lips tipped into a broad smile, “Come! Let’s have a girls' day, all on me.”

I look back at Lucas for his approval, who nods curtly. Emma is practically jumping up and down as she snatches my hand and drags me down the hallway. I don’t resist, seeing that there wasn’t really a way to escape her, though I wish there was. She leads me into what I can only assume is her room and signals me to sit on her bed.

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“Sorry about my brother, I hope he’s been nice to you. He can be such a hardass sometimes…” she says, breaking the silence as she gets a decorative box out of one of the cabinets.

“Your brother?” I ask.

“Oh yeah, Lucas is my brother, a couple of years older than me, and he loves to make it known. I love him, but sometimes his over-the-top sarcasm drives me batshit!” she says with an exasperated sigh.

“I never would have guessed you were siblings. You look nothing alike. Not to mention you have completely opposite personalities.” I reply, confused.

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” she grabs a sheet of band aids with a peculiar pattern on them, “These band aids have scar-healing properties, thanks to Decatech. These should take care of those scabs and scars. They look pretty painful.”

“Uh, thanks, I think,” I said hesitantly. “They aren’t really painful, I suppose, but thank you anyway,” I took the bandaids from her hands and began applying them to my more minor scars. But, it felt like I was stripping away a part of myself that I had known for so long, however, I had never acknowledged.

I paused before the major burn mark on my side. Emma was looking away at the moment, so I simply tucked the dress back down and pushed the bandaids away before she noticed. Despite being a scar, it was important to me. It didn’t bring back fond memories, though. It was a constant reminder that I wasn’t able to save my own mother’s life. Even though I had done everything I could, I feel like if I had done better, been a little faster, been a bit stronger, maybe she would still be here.

Emma knocks me from my thoughts.

“Alright! Let’s do your nails!”

“Pardon?”

“Your nails? Let’s paint them!” she repeats.

“Oh…uh, yeah, sure!” I manage to get out. Of course, I had no experience with stuff like this. Mainly because nail polish was considered a novelty in the slums, and I had no idea what was going on. She whipped out a tiny bottle of clear nail polish, placed it on her bedside, then started filing down my nails into a soft oval shape.

“So, what’s life like in the slums? I’ve always wondered, and now that someone from the actual slums is here, I felt like it was the perfect opportunity!” Emma explains. I thought for a moment, but I figured that I shouldn’t sugarcoat it.

“It’s…baren. We don’t have sun because of the factories' smog and mainly rains. People kill each other for respect, and the crime rates are high. Food is extremely expensive, and you have to boil your water to drink it safely. Most buildings are abandoned because people live their lives at bars and strip clubs. Most children die before seven, and their mothers are off getting drunk and laid for money…” I trail off, realizing that Emma’s face had contorted into a look of shock and horror. She stared down at me with concern.

“You- you don’t do those kinds of things, right? You don’t kill people, do you? Or get drunk or laid for no reason?” she stammered, looking a little scared.

I realized that I must have frightened her, “No, no! Not at all. I didn’t mean to imply that I did. My apologies. I just meant to say that things are kind of rough down there, is all. You really shouldn’t be too interested in it,” I explain, brushing it off.

“Ah,” her face fell a little bit as she continued to polish my nails, “Sorry, I didn’t know,”

“It would’ve been better for you if you hadn’t, but some things can’t be ignored. It’s not like it’s your fault,” I reply.

“Well, thank you,” she said, immediately perking back up again, “How about a different topic? What’s your favorite hobby?”

She and I continued to talk about our favorite things as we waited for my nails to dry. But then, a question of mine came to mind.

“Hey, did you whisper to me earlier today?” I ask.

She looked at me, obviously confused, “No, why?”

“Hm, it’s nothing, I heard someone call out to me in the hallway today, but maybe it was my imagination,” I reply, disguising my worry.

“Ah, well, it’s getting pretty late. You should probably get back. You look great, by the way!” she remarked.

“Oh, thanks! And you’re right. I should probably get going. It is 10, after all.” I give her a quick smile and make my way toward the door.

“Blair! Heads up!” Emma exclaimed. I turn around and catch the small box she threw at me, “These are the bandages. Those scars require multiple treatments!”

“Oh, thank you!” I turn back around and head out the door.

I make it about halfway back to my room when I feel a startling tap on my shoulder. Whipping my head around, I immediately grab the person’s wrist and twist it in the opposite direction, driving them back into the wall.

“Hey, whoa! Calm down there, tiger. I wasn’t trying to test your reflexes!” an unknown voice yelped. I look the person straight in the eyes. A man who I would roughly guess was the age of 21 stood before me. Greyish eyes, a devilish smile, and hair that was a deep brown. I grimaced and backed up from him, immediately realizing what kind of person he was.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Aw, what’s with that sour look? Do you look like that all the time? Jeez, what a case of resting-bitch-face that is.” he replies teasingly. But, I don't take it as such.

“Excuse me?” I ask in an offended tone.

He completely ignores my reaction, “Name’s Zachary. What might yours be?”

Still dumbfounded, I decided to just go along with it. But I made sure to keep the venomous drip in my tone.

“Blair, why?”

“Fresh meat! Welcome to the Sentinel Guard! What district are you from?” he asked me, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. I paused for a long time, debating my options. Apparently too long.

“Hey now, don’t tell me you don’t know where you’re from! I’d almost expect you were from the slums!” he laughs.

“Well- I- uh…” I panic a little, trying to think of an excuse. His eyebrow shoots up with suspicion.

“Blair Linden, from District 9, Soldier District.” A familiar voice comes from behind me. I turned around to see Lucas walking down the hall with an annoyed look on his face.

“Ah, always the life of the party, aren’t you, Lucas?” Zachary said, equally annoyed, “Have you come to steal Senior Ilya’s badge again?”

Lucas is unfazed, “No, I’ve come to take my apprentice back from your grimy hands,” he replied smoothly. He grips my left wrist and leads me away from Zachary, who reluctantly stays behind. We walk back silently to my bedroom door, and finally, Lucas sighs.

“Don’t go near him. He has a habit of not knowing how to keep his hands to himself,” he states, still rather annoyed, but I can tell it’s not with me. He let go of my wrist and ruffled his hair, breaking up its gel. I recall what happened in my head.

“How did you know my last name? That shouldn’t be put up anywhere.” I scowl, looking Lucas in the eyes.

“Birth records. I like to keep a close eye on everything in the slums, so I took the liberty of going through your file,” he explained.

I raise an eyebrow, “Really? Even I haven’t seen that.”

He nods slowly, “A lot of the information is missing though, for reasons unknown. I suspect your friend kept your record clean, even if it’s not meant to be,” his usual sarcastic tone returned, and it took me everything not to smack him upside the head. I said nothing.

“Anyway, It’s late, you should go to bed,” he said, breaking the silence.

“My thoughts exactly,”

“Wonderful,” he opened my door and motioned me inside, “I’ll wake you up tomorrow, 7AM sharp.”

“Thanks” I reply, bowing my head slightly. As I begin to shut the door behind him, he sticks his foot between the frame and the door, looking back at me.

“The hearing is in two days, I suggest you come up with some really good excuses, otherwise your friend…well,” he cast his eyes down, not making eye contact with me. By the sound of his tone, he’s a sarcastic asshole, however in his eyes, there’s a flicker of pain and understanding. I nod my head, and he takes his foot from the frame, allowing me to shut the door fully.

I slowly trudge over to my bed and flop down onto my back.

“What the hell am I going to do?” I whisper.