Young Writers Society

Verona awoke when the lights flickered on. They were supposed to be dim, but after the night’s darkness, any light was blinding. Verona groaned and turned over on the thin mattress, trying to get comfortable again. But it was no use – the light invaded her eyes and told her body it was time to get up. She opened her eyes to the same sight she had seen for the past three weeks – her sterile, white cell.

Then she remembered what tomorrow was – her transfer. The start of her sentence. “Justice” had been administered swiftly, at least by government standards. Verona had pled guilty – there was no point in denying it, and it would have been an affront to Nirvana.

She stared up at the ceiling and let out a long breath. Twenty years. She had only been alive for twenty-one. I will live my lifetime over again, but this time in a cell. My price for failure. If she had succeeded in killing Murrin, she would have been executed. In many ways, that would have been preferable.

Verona heard a rattling at the door. The flap opened, and a tray of food was pushed inside. On it was some bread, ham, and milk, with a small bowl of fruit. The same breakfast she had had every day for three weeks. There wasn’t much variety here, since it wasn’t a full-fledged prison, just a place to detain people during their trial and before their transfer.

Verona got out of bed, picked up the tray, and sat down at the tiny desk. She ate methodically, trying to keep her mind off Analia. Why had her twin refused to see her? Why hadn’t she responded to any of her messages? Could she really be that angry with me?

She ended that line of thought right there and turned her musings towards her only source of hope. The Absolutionists. She remembered the thrill of their visit two weeks ago.

She had been taken to the visiting room, though she didn’t know who would be there to see her. Once seated, a balding, business-like man had explained to her that he represented the Absolutionists, that this conversation was not being recorded, and that Lani had given them her message. He assured her they wanted Verona free as much as she did – there was even a part of their funds dedicated to helping the “wrongfully accused” escape.

‘So you’ll help me, then?’ Verona had asked, giddy with joy. But of course, it wasn’t that simple. The man reassured her that they would do all in their power to help, but reminded her that their influence was limited, and they could not risk exposing themselves. It could be a year before they were able to stage her escape.

She had gone back to her cell full of hope, despite the man’s cautions. She hadn’t heard from them since. Such a gossamer thread I cling to. Once she was transferred, it would be a lot harder to escape. Prison security was just too good. Unless the Absolutionists had more people on the inside than they had led her to believe.

After breakfast, Verona tried to busy herself with a book on one of the prison techpads, but the proximity of her transfer hung over her like a dark cloud, and she found herself fidgety and unable to concentrate.

The electronic lock beeped, and Verona jumped. The door hissed open, revealing a guard standing outside.

“What’s going on?” she asked, confused. Her transfer was scheduled for tomorrow, not today.

“You have a visitor,” he said. Verona’s heart leapt. Had Analia finally come? Or would it be the Absolutes again?

He led her to the visiting room, where he quickly searched her, then unlocked the door and opened it for her. “You’ve got fifteen minutes.”

Verona looked inside. The visiting room was small, furnished only with a table and two chairs, and there sitting in the far chair, was Analia. Verona grinned, temporarily forgetting where she was. “’Lia!” she said joyfully. “You came!”

“Yeah, I did,” Analia said, looking down at her hands and making no move to get out of her seat. Something was wrong. Analia had done a good job of hiding it, but now that Verona was paying attention, she could feel her twin’s turmoil. She sobered instantly, taking the seat across from Analia. “What’s wrong?”

“Tell me why,” Analia said in a quiet voice, still staring resolutely at her fingers.

“Why what?” Verona asked. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she realized this wasn’t going to be the joyous reunion she had anticipated.

“Why you did it.”

What kind of a question was that? How could she make Analia understand the sense of justice that burned in Verona, the satisfaction she had felt at seeing Murrin’s terrified face as he realized he was about to atone for his crimes. A part of her still screamed in horror at what she had almost done, but reminding herself of her mother’s fate was usually all that it took to silence it. Verona was convinced Nirvana was on her side, but she couldn’t very well tell Analia that, not while her twin was already questioning the faith. So she decided to lie.

“I was just so angry,” she said, and it wasn’t hard to fake a trembling voice. “I didn’t really think about what I was doing. All I knew was that it was he caused Mom’s death, and murderers deserve to die. You know that’s always been a requirement of justice. And they let him walk free!” She tried to push the correct emotions over their mental link – regret and shame. It wasn’t difficult. She had lost so much from her botched attempt that regret was easy to come by.

“I shouldn’t have done it,” Verona continued. “But I wish that the system were better, more like Nirvana’s justice. All I saw was the government’s failure, and I thought I had the right to step in. Things like that” – she hesitated, but plunged ahead – “it’s things like that that I think the Absolutes could fix.”

Analia shook her head in disbelief, eyes sparkling with tears. “How can you still stand by that? Look at where Nirvana’s “justice” has gotten you! Haven’t we already had our lives messed up enough? We lost our mother, and now we’ve lost each other too.”

Her words shook Verona to the core. For the first time, she realized how much pain she had caused Analia, just how thoroughly she had messed up her own life as well. By the time she was free, Analia would be well into her career and probably married. Their lives would be completely separate. How could Nirvana have let this go so wrong?

Analia was still fighting to hold back tears. Verona rose and went around the table to pull her sister close, but Analia flinched away from her touch, jumping up and hurrying towards the door. Hand on the handle, she looked back at Verona.

“I just wish things could be different,” she said in choked voice. And then she was gone.

Verona stood staring at the doorway where Analia had vanished until the guards came to get her. “So do I,” she whispered in a voice that only reached her ears.