Page 4 of Breakaway

As far as neighboring townsfolk, Veritas has expertly woven themselves into the fabric of the nearby community. They’ve behaved impeccably, instilling a basic level of trust that keeps the nosier busybodies from prying too deeply. And to avoid the most obvious tell, all Tainted are forced to wear colored contacts while assigned to work the market. They’ve thought through every possibility of sabotage, but I guarantee, they won’t have seen me coming.

Although their access to a wider demographic is now easily accessible, that also comes with a more safety-conscious and stranger-wary generation. The decline of Tainted they’re experiencing is in large part due to the more cautious nature of today’s society, and that imbalance has created a rift amongst the more seasoned members. Men and women alike are biding their time, growing restless as they wait for the few remaining Tainted to come of age, and seeing as they bend their teachings to fit whatever narrative suits them best, I’m afraid to know what changes lie ahead.

Tobias has already acted prematurely, putting into motion an avalanche of consequences that can’t be stopped. He was so desperate to prove himself a suitable leader, he forgot to use his brain. When I stumbled upon him speaking with Kennedy at his bedside, I was shocked and gutted to hear what he was admitting to his comatose father. Not because he felt guilt or remorse for his actions, but because it gave him a sense of power that he had masterminded something he deemed worthy of Kennedy’s praise.

Hudson Taylor wouldn’t have been on my radar if it weren’t for my eavesdropping, and by all accounts, he shouldn’t have been on Veritas’ either. He’s that one-in-a-million probability, the unfortunate soul who unknowingly crossed paths with a force so evil that neither he nor his mother ever stood a chance. I’ve never bought the notion that everything happens for a reason, not when such malevolence befalls innocents without provocation, but I’m eternally grateful to have been at the right place at exactly the right time to overhear Tobias’ confession.

I’ve never known Veritas to resort to such drastic measures. They rarely deviate from seeking out children or families who won’t be missed. Drifters like my parents and me, or kids in the foster system whose disappearance will be brushed under the rug, listed as runaways without further investigation. And those rare few who initiate contact with Veritas via their website don’t receive any response unless they meet the same criteria. But something went terribly wrong when Tobias set his sights on Hudson Taylor, and I feel certain his hubristic nature propelled him into acting so brazenly, his desperation to establish himself at the top of the food chain fueling the domino effect he’s set into motion. Foolishly, he’d misinterpreted a phone conversation the boy’s mother was having while her son played at the park. She’d been venting to a friend about how much he missed his father, discussing how life wasn’t the same without him.

Thinking he’d just been given the perfect opening, Tobias approached the woman, but after realizing he wasn’t going to be swaying her with some undoubtedly asinine proposal, he made a grave mistake. Before she could even scream for help, Tobias shot her. He made a quick getaway with the little boy, but what he didn’t account for was Hudson’s father, who was very much alive. The one-sided chat he’d mistaken for something it wasn’t was in regard to him having recently deployed. And while serving his country, that poor man was given the heartbreaking news that his wife had been murdered and his son was missing.

The moment Tobias fell asleep that evening, I took a calculated risk and slipped free of our bed. On silent feet and suspended breath, I made the ten-minute trek to the eastern border. I’d hidden the burner phone in the rotten remains of the makeshift bench I used to have such fond memories of. Its current state was the perfect representation of all that was left of the happiness it used to conjure. With a pit in my stomach, I made the dreaded call to Raiden, informing him of the Taylor boy’s precarious situation. The second our call ended, I was inundated with a slew of messages containing several recent photographs of a sweet-faced toddler, allowing me to identify him if or when our paths crossed.

There was no clear course of action to execute a retrieval, and until I was able to confirm Hudson’s presence within Veritas, we were at a stalemate. If the authorities acted prematurely and Tobias was spooked, Hudson’s disappearance was at risk of becoming permanent. At this point, I’d put nothing past these people, though I’m loath to even categorize them as a species that’s capable of empathy when they so obviously lack basic emotions. Their arrogance knows no bounds, which gives them an exaggerated perception of being untouchable. And nothing good ever comes from a power trip of that magnitude.

There’s been no mention of Hudson around the compound, but my leash is tight and the access I once had to the Tainted’s living quarters is practically nonexistent. Unless I’m sent to pass a message along, our interactions are kept to a minimum. Veritas is skilled in maintaining their hierarchy. My current position is only elevated because of who my Chosen is, but it’s eons beneath a former Tainted like Ada, who’s believed to be favored by their Divine after her son was born without heterochromia. Her redemption is spoken about with pride and awe, used to impress the newcomers who start to show signs of regret. Ada’s their success story, proof their perversions have merit while justifying the heinous methods they employ to get their desired results. Because that’s the end goal–bearing an offspring born free of the affliction is the only true testament of your hard-earned salvation.

It doesn’t matter how preposterous the notion is; if Veritas believes it to be fact, there’s no persuading them otherwise. The only time I’ve ever allowed my true thoughts to be known was in the presence of Tobias, convinced I was in like-minded company, or at the very least, that he cared enough not to punish me for voicing them. He’s killed that belief many times over the past six years, and for every day that passes where I’m forced to pretend I’ve been brainwashed like Ada, another piece of my soul fractures. My greatest fear for when I do make it out of here is that I won’t be whole enough to have a life worth living. That I’ll be forced to sacrifice vital parts of my being, and, scarily enough, the idea of a trade-off such as that coming to fruition isn’t enough to sway me.

Ada’s shrill whistle snaps me out of my introspection. She rather enjoys beckoning me like a dog, and the glare she’s aiming in my direction makes it evident I’ve taken far too long completing the errand she tasked me with. Quickly brushing the dirt from my hands, I tilt my head back, allowing the fading rays of sunlight to bolster the nerves that always accompany being in the presence of a Stillwater. Fending off their verbal attacks has become an Olympic sport, especially now, when there’s so much riding on my ability to continue acting the part of a submissive and dutiful wife.

Once I’m back inside, I trim the stems and place the flowers in a vase. The table is set, filled with fruits and vegetables, the potent scent of stew making my empty stomach pinch painfully. Like Ada, I stand behind my chair and wait to be seated until the Elder of the House arrives. It doesn’t take long; Tobias is punctual, if nothing else. He takes the head of the table, seeing as his father is incapacitated, forgoing formalities altogether.

“Lunch looks great, Mother,” Tobias remarks, purposely excluding me from his praise. She smiles graciously, even though I’m the one who peeled the potatoes, along with dicing the carrots and onions.

Any chance Tobias is given to diminish my worth, he greedily takes. Once upon a time, his opinion was something I held in high regard, but it’s irrelevant now. I used to lie awake at night, replaying the many conversations we shared, the kisses and laughs. Was any of it real? Or was it all fake? Did he pull the con of a lifetime and dupe me into falling in love with the enemy? Or did something happen, forever changing the sweet boy he once was? I’ll never know. I could ask, and perhaps he’d answer, but I wouldn’t believe him. He’s too skilled at deception, and regardless of what he might say, no explanation will ever justify his betrayal.

I wish I could say my hatred for Tobias sprang forth the moment he laid waste to our relationship, but love doesn’t work like that. It’s not a switch I can flip, and it took time to reconcile who he is with who I thought he was. My imbecilic heart didn’t want to face the truth, but he’d grown increasingly distant since the day of our Claiming, and I’ll never forget the exact moment I truly accepted he was lost to me. That whoever I’d been in love with no longer existed, if he ever did. He’d gripped my chin, his gaze unwavering as he began to undress me, despite my refusal or lack of interest in engaging in anything sexual.

I knew deep in my soul that denying him wasn’t an option. Veritas made our marital obligations exceedingly clear, and failure to comply was simply unacceptable. But I never thought those rules applied to us. Tobias never raised his voice or lashed out in anger, but the quiet way he exerted his control unnerved me more than any heated words ever could. Disbelief mixed with confusion, and all I could do was stand there and accept what was happening. He used my body in a way he never had, without care and affection, and the next morning, he behaved as if nothing ever happened. As if he didn’t decimate my heart and rip apart all of our carefully laid plans.

Before that night, I wouldn’t have thought him capable of hurting me, but he’s taken sick delight in proving me wrong. Every day since has only gotten worse. It was a slow process, with stretches of good overshadowing the bouts of rage he’d spiral into, until there was nothing left but a void of darkness in place of the warmth he used to evoke. They say absolute power corrupts absolutely, and I’d have to agree. Tobias could be the poster child. Gone is the boy who promised me the world, replaced by a man dead set on destroying it. He has no remorse for the things he’s done, and at this rate, he’s going to be the cruelest leader Veritas has ever had—a feat I never thought possible.

Tobias plates my food, refusing me the right to serve myself. Control is a kink of his, but so is molding my body to his exact liking. I only eat what he allows me to, never more, never less. If he feels I need to lose a few pounds, my portions become so minuscule they’re barely more than a few bites. It’s not enough to put me through the paces of his twisted mental gymnastics; he needs me physically exhausted as well. The one and only time I challenged his judgment, I went sixty-three hours without so much as a drop of water. I kept quiet after that.

We eat in silence, but it’s difficult to enjoy the taste of anything when I know the other Tainted are making do with scraps. It’s cruel, the way we’re forced to harvest the vegetables and tend to the livestock, knowing we’ll reap none of the rewards for the tireless labor that’s expected of us. Even still, those years spent in communal housing, working from sunup till sundown, were far better than what awaited me here. The idea that there was ever a time when I was eager for my Claiming to take place is incomprehensible.

Later that evening, Tobias summons me to his office. The members that make up each House all reside in one dwelling, but our portion of the home is connected by a wood-planked breezeway, giving us a semblance of privacy. I used to covet our alone time, but dread fills my stomach the second I’m trapped with Tobias, the presence of others no longer serving as a buffer. He’s sprawled behind his desk lackadaisically, the picture of an unfit king lording over his acolytes without a shred of morality.

“Come.” Tobias stands, leaving me to trail behind him like an obedient puppy.

We exit House Stillwater and make the trek across the compound. At first, I think he’s taking me to the eastern corner, to the place we once frequented together. Panic grips me, making me fearful of what he knows. I’ve been so careful, avoiding it altogether as of late, so my visits wouldn’t bring about any questions. Over time, I’ve grown to hate the place I used to find solace in. It’s a constant reminder of how trusting and guileless I used to be. I think the only reason he hasn’t forbidden me from visiting it is that he wants me to suffer. It’s not enough that Tobias himself is a walking reminder of my greatest mistake; he’ll take every chance he gets to douse my wounds with salt, dragging out every hurt he’s inflicted for as long as he can.

When he changes course, a barely discernible sigh of relief escapes me. Regardless of how improbable it is, there hasn’t been a single day I haven’t feared him discovering the burner phone I was given. Moments later, we enter the Tainted’s living quarters without so much as a knock. Privacy is a scarce commodity, and having come to that realization the hard way, our sudden appearance catches none of the Tainted off guard. Tobias leads us through the bunk room, but I keep my eyes averted from any distractions. It hurts to be in their presence, and I hate that I can’t help them or at least make them aware of the outside forces working tirelessly to end our suffering.

At the back of the building, we’re greeted by a House figurehead. They serve as representatives, but haven’t yet come of age to partake in a Claiming. At all times, someone is present, ensuring obedience and submission. Keeping a watchful eye on the Tainted, they operate in shifts, utilizing a designated space for Houses to maintain separation. Fraternizing is vehemently forbidden, though Tobias and I certainly didn’t adhere to the rules. He speaks quietly with the figurehead, and then we’re led to one of the private rooms that’s meant to give the illusion of segregation.

“My wife will see to his care for the time being. Once he has control over his urination and bowel movements, he’ll be placed with the Tainted, as he’s meant to be,” Tobias commands. “Perhaps caring for a child will spark her instincts. Her clock is ticking, after all.”

A small boy is plucked from the cot, then dropped to his feet carelessly. The figurehead from House Harding sneers in disgust, brushing her hands against her sides. When his face connects with the fading light from the sun, it takes a strength I didn’t know I possessed to remain impassive. Hudson Taylor stands before me, his tiny body within arm’s reach. My knees grow weak when he whimpers, terrified of Tobias’ reaction. By some miracle, he defers to me, gesturing that I have his permission to approach the child. I don’t dare whisper reassurances in the presence of my so-called husband, but I can only hope that the faint stroke of my hand brings Hudson a morsel of comfort. And though my promises aren’t spoken aloud, they’re no less vehement.

If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to free this sweet little boy who’s done absolutely nothing to invite the pain that Veritas has thrust upon him.

3

Raiden

“Goddamnit!”