I glare at the mysterious girl, the Insurgent: Rhea. There’s an intense burning hatred deep within my soul as I remember the bombing at the Primary school, full of innocent children. I had visited the school just days before the cowardly attack. All the kids there, they made me feel like I was superman, not just boring Kaspar Wilding the farm-boy. Talking to them made me feel so relaxed, like I was the best person in the whole world. There was a little girl called Gnea. Oh dear little Gnea-with-a-G, who gave me a tiny childlike hug that filled me with such warmth I was vaguely surprised that I didn’t have embarrassing, wet sweat-marks under my armpits by the end of it. Yeah, I know, it sounds insanely cheesy but it’s true. She gazed at me in admiration and giggled light-heartedly as she thanked me for protecting her.
Then just like that the school had been bombed in a brutal terrorist attack by no one other than the heartless Insurgents. I, the ‘protecting’ Guardian, could do nothing to save her, to save anyone. Their superman wasn’t so ‘super’ after all. Ha. He was hardly even a man. All I could do was put child after child in body-bags and search for their limp, lifeless figures amongst the rubble whilst parents wept, despaired and disconsolate. The memory of their agonized faces staring in disbelief at their children’s dead bodies is like a wound that will never heal in my heart.
How can Rhea live with herself? Struggling to keep it together, I feel my blood curdle as I look at a girl who has murdered thousands of guiltless children. We treat them so well too, those evil Insurgents, provide them with total priority for treatment in hospitals and give them safe and absolute care once we stun them. That’s why this is a Noble Conflict: no one ever gets hurt. I wish we were allowed to kill them though, the way they do large-scale bombings against uninvolved Alliance civilians is truly despicable.
What do they want anyway? They are the ones who stole our land. They are the ones that killed so many of us. They are the ones who betrayed us. Everyone knows that. It’s written in our history books for goodness sake! The facts of their crimes is scribed in our history, so what the hell do they want?
I clutch my stun gun.
“Why do you terrorise us?” I ask through gritted teeth, desperately trying to subdue the sadness and anger that is dangerously close to consuming me. Rhea gives me a look that can only be described as pure exasperation and laughs, a cackle full of venom that sends a shiver down my spine. There is a strange look in her turquoise eyes that I cannot quite place. She would really be quite beautiful if there wasn’t that, that overwhelming sadness, about her. Despite my wrath, unexpected guilt unexpectedly begins to gnaw at my heavy heart. I quickly wipe away the feelings stirring within me and remind myself that she is the enemy. The terrorist. If she’s sad, it serves her right. The Insurgents are the ones who torment us of the Alliance.
Suddenly her eyes soften and she opens her delicate mouth, as if to say something, but then closes it again. She turns slightly but stops short and looks at me with those troubled, turquoise eyes, her face hardening.
“You should know what you’re fighting for, Kaspar,” she whispers, and glides from the room before the full impact of what she’s said hits me.
Author's note: thanks SO MUCH for reading my entry for Malorie Blackman's writing competition! What did you think? Feel free to give me feedback or like? xox