Beyond Enclosure

Our country has always been split in two - the lefties and the righties. Whilst people go around using this to describe the hand they write with, it's different for us. Because those two words mean more than you could ever imagine. // A story about the power of love in a society where differences aren't accepted.

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10. Chapter Nine

Following Trent around the house, room after room, I'm beginning to reconsider my views on this being a house; it's a freaking maze. With endless flights of stairs and never-ending corridors, I'm not sure I'll be able to find my way anywhere. All the rooms are highly decorated, perhaps a little bit too chintzy for my liking, but nevertheless a lot of work has been put into them. This is the kind of family that must have permanent cleaners, I think to myself, because there is no way that when I slide my finger along the mantelpiece not one speck of dust attaches itself to my fingerprint. I'm beginning to rethink why I was even born on the left side. What would life have been like if I'd been brought up here?

Eventually, we reach the last room of the tour. My shoulders droop and my back aches with all the walking. Perhaps from the journey up the wall too, though I'm still wary of the fact that I don't know how I actually made it here. Some part of me wills to know, but part of me just wants to accept it as luck, for it's nothing I've ever received in my childhood.

"This is the guest room, where you will stay," Trent says, stepping aside. 

He's looking at me but I stare past the door, past him, and into the vast space in front of me. It happens that I'm pleased to have a smaller-looking room. A four post bed lies against the middle of the left wall, a chest of drawers either side. A dressing table lies underneath the window straight ahead of me, casting a small amount of light into the dimmed room. It seems almost scary, mysterious, but in a moment Trent switches on the light and my worries turn to dust - or just disappear into the air, considering there is no dust in this house. But as I'm about to thank him and drop myself on the bed in exhaustion, I wonder why I'm even staying here. They don't even know me. 

Trent must see my confused look as he then say, "Don't worry about it. Seriously. We won't tell anyone you're here."

"What? Why can't you tell anyone?" I ask, squatting on the edge of the bed.

"You really don't know anything, do you?"

I'm so taken aback by his harsh words I don't know what to say myself. Am I meant to know what happens now? For some reason I feel as though I'm missing something, as if there's about a million more things I don't know about my own country. How is that even right?

He shakes his head, sighing. "Do you not learn in school? Learn about how we came about to be divided?"

"What are you talking about?" I feel my voice rising with every accusing glare he sends in my direction. How can I know the unknown?

"Okay, let me explain..." He seats himself beside me and I almost move away when his hand accidentally touches mine, but he takes it away before I have the chance to.

"So you know that you're not allowed on this side, right?"

"No I'm blind, I can't see the wall that stands in the middle of our country," I reply, deadpan.

He raises his eyebrows and I laugh. "Yes, I know."

"You're a sarcastic one, aren't you?"

I shrug. "More sarcastic than brave."

"I wouldn't say so; you managed to get up the wall by yourself...mostly."

"Mostly? Did you help me?"

He sighs. "I'll explain later. I need to tell you about the most important facts first."

Knowing that there are more important facts scares me. Is it a danger that I'm suddenly here? He said that he won't tell anyone I'm staying, but why can't they know? Somehow, I feel like I want them to know, as if my effort for climbing the wall will bring their attention onto me, attention I've never received. Is that, perhaps, all I wanted? But I know that deep down it's the adrenaline I wished for, the rush to do what you know is wrong but feels so right. But I don't know the difference anymore.

"Okay, so in general terms, you're not meant to be here," He begins to explain, "Clearly you were meant to stay on the left side, because that's who you are, so when you turn up unexpectantly, you're basically asking for the kill."

"They kill anyone who comes from the left side to here?" Somehow I'm surprised at this. Shouldn't I have guessed it would happen? One more day and he'll probably lead me to another room I never knew existed - the chambers. And there I'll probably be choked to my...

"Before you start panicking, I'm not intending to kill you." I sigh in relief when he says this, and he laughs as my face regains it's colour. 

"So what are you intending to do?"

He shrugs. "Perhaps just throw you back over."

I raise my eyebrows, for once catching his joke. "You haven't got me this time."

"Shame," He replies, rubbing his chin.

"So why am I not allowed here? Are we different to you in some way?"

"You could call it that."

"What are you?"

He laughs, and I genuinely feel stupid. "We're still humans. Just, more advanced."

"In what way?" 

He sighs. "Like I said, no detail just yet. Not until we've decided what we're going to do."

"Who's 'we'?" 

"Aviur and I."

I stare at him, another oblivious face amongst many. "Who?"

"He's the 'father', let's say. Of what, you'll find out tomorrow."

He begins to leave the room, taking out the key from the lock and throwing it to me. With one hand I catch it swiftly in the air, almost proud that for once I did the right thing. That's before his words catch up on me.

"Find out what tomorrow? Please, I'm so confused. I don't know what..."

He slams the door and I'm left in complete silence. No clothes, no food, no nothing. My fingers skim the scar on my arm, the scar I never knew I had. Was it the wrong choice turning up here? Was he lying when he said he had no intention of killing me? I wrap myself up in a ball on the bed, feeling so tiny in this bigger world. I want to doubt my journey here, to slap myself for being too ambitious, but I know that there's no going back. I'm here. And perhaps I'm here for good.

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