“It will be there,” Mr. Martin said.
“You know,” Mr. Baker began, “We’re lucky we’ve found a way to do this over. The Carver girl was never supposed to come back. She was supposed to end up just like the Vickers girl.”
Chapter 15: The Truth Shall Set You Free
Darkness which may be felt.~ Exodus 10:21
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For a while, I just sat alone in the mess hall consumed by the darkness. My mind was still processing key items from the conversation that I had just heard. Murder. These people were murderers. They conspired and had Monica Vickers killed. And now they were plotting to murder me! Over food!
The worst part was, that this plan Mr. Baker developed, about secretly murdering people to conserve food, wasn’t going to stop with me. Who was it going to be next? Grace?
Poor Monica. My heart went out to her, wherever she was. She was young, beautiful and kind, a lot like May. She didn’t deserve to die, especially over freaking portion control. If our food supply was running low, why couldn’t they just ask people to take less? I would have gladly sacrificed half of my food if I knew it would have kept Monica alive and well.
What would her family say when they found out? Would they believe me if I told them? I had no reason to lie or make up such a story, but Mr. Baker had this slimy way about him when it came to manipulating people. No… I couldn’t tell them. Not yet.
As I picked myself up off the cold, damp floor, an empty feeling swirled around in the pit of my stomach, and it wasn’t because I was hungry. It surfaced because I felt used, like a pawn in a game that I wasn’t invited to participate in. My life had no value to these people. They should have just chained me up and sold me off into slavery. Even a life of slavery had to be better than being surrounded by greedy, manipulative people who were full of lies.
How could I face Colin tomorrow, knowing what I knew now? Instead of feeling butterflies whenever he entered the room, I’d feel nauseated. Listening to the sound of his deep, once beautiful voice, would make my skin crawl. Separating the way I used to feel about him and my feelings for him now were going to be harder than anything I’d ever done. Colin was a con. A great big con artist. And I blamed myself for all of this more than anything because I bought everything he sold.
At the time, he had me genuinely believing he cared about me. Still confused, I debated on whether he was acting or not. He had to be, but there was so many times, where he displayed a chivalrous side. Like when he made his promise to me. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. I will always protect you.” Or when he touched me tenderly, gazing deep into my eyes.
It always felt like he was looking past me, staring directly into my soul. If he didn’t care about me, I was convinced that he was one of the best actors I’d ever seen. Even better than the ones that were in movies. Perhaps. Colin could give Brad Pitt a run for his money.
Honestly. I’d always prided myself in being completely and totally honest with people. A person who could look someone directly in the eye and lie to their face didn’t have guts or a conscience. I had both. It was different when people who loved you did it. Yes, it was still wrong but, eventually when you found out, you knew they were only doing it because they truly cared about you.
My mother lied to me all the time but I knew she only did because she loved me so much. Like when I was ten and we had a heated debate on Santa Clause. She insisted that he was real, telling me that if I didn’t leave the milk and cookies out, that he wouldn’t come. I knew he wasn’t real. But Christmas isn’t the same without Santa. And even though she was lying to my face, I knew she wasn’t doing maliciously.
What Mr. Baker, Mr. Martin, and Mr. Edwards were doing was malicious. They weren’t just lying to me, they were lying and betraying an entire colony of people. The same people who took them in when they had nowhere else to go. None of us cared if that meant we had more mouths to feed. We were saving lives and that was all that mattered.
Sulking back to my room, I couldn’t hold back my deeply-rooted feeling of sorrow anymore. My eyes watered up, tears brimming over the edges. I was so overwhelmed with emotion, I had to stop in the middle of the hall and hold myself to keep it all together.
One tear after another, rained down my cheeks. Closing my eyes, I squeezed them together tightly, hoping to dry up my tears ducts. I let out a long sigh, and clenched my jaw as my temples started pounding and a sharp pain rippled through the stitched up gash above my forehead.“Get a hold of yourself,” I said, barely above a whisper.
It was time that I stopped crying and showed everyone who they were dealing with. I’d been through hell and back in the last three days and came out just fine. Part of my memory was gone and I was physically broken, but I wasn’t going to let that keep me down.
I refused to just sit back and let myself become another one of their victims. Like Mr. Baker said, “The Carver girl is too smart for her own good.” He was right about that.
Tomorrow, I would pretend like everything was perfect. I’d put on the best act of my entire life. I’d keep an eye on Mr. Baker at all times. I’d sneak in and out of the shadows, like a creature of the night. Then, when Mr. Baker and his family were out and about, I’d march right into his room, snatch the lottery box, and put his daughter’s name inside of it.
Chapter 16: Resurrected
Woe to her that is filthy and polluted, to the oppressing city!~ Zephaniah 3:1
The chatter in the mess hall died down to silence as I entered. My eyes wandered around the room, stopping at my old table. Grace beamed at me, motioning for me to join her. I smiled back and made my way over to her. Colin wasn’t here yet, if he was going to show up at all. Someone probably informed him that I was coming out of hiding today. News around here spread faster than an avalanche on a snow capped mountain.
“So glad to have you back!” Grace gushed as I plopped down on my bench.
I laughed. “Grace, you’ve seen me every day this week.”
She grabbed my arm and placed her head against my shoulder. “Well, I still missed you at mealtimes.”
Turning away, I had a hard time looking at Grace. I felt like I was betraying her just by keeping what I knew about her sister a secret. But my plan wouldn’t work if I spilled everything now.
Last night, after I pieced myself back together, I lied awake in bed, plotting. I knew every aspect of Mr. Baker’s schedule and my plan wouldn’t have worked if I didn’t. Usually, I hated that we lived in such close proximity with all the colonists, but now it appeared that the closeness would work out to my advantage.
In the morning, Mr. Baker joined everyone in the mess hall for breakfast. Then, after breakfast, he went into the kitchen to count the food inventory. He counted every item himself, to ensure that nothing was stolen. That took him about three hours. With this many people, and everyone contributing something, that was a lot of food to count. When the inventory was completed, he’d go back to his room and, at 11:30 he’d join everyone else in the mess hall for lunch.