How To Be a Boy

Chapter One

"He who robs us of our dreams, robs us of our life."
- Virginia Woolf, Orlando

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-Chapter One-

"Rainey!" I croak, scratching at my throat as the tears melt my cheeks. My eyes deceive her arch her back, her skin splitting, bleeding, two or three feet long. She cries out in pain, trying to reach the Lord above. To give up already.

My sister, Rainey, being whipped to almost half death.

"Take me, Lord! I give up, just take me already. Go on!" she screamed at the clouds. She screeches in pain. Her fingernails dig into the palm of her hand, drawing more blood to dread over. Her mouth now opens, but nothing comes out any longer. No screams. No sobbs. No unexplained sounds, nothing.

She's about to die.

"No, Rainey! Please, no!" I sprint to her, sobbing, not knowing what I'm thinking to stop a public whipping.

In Raza, no matter what territory, you never stop a public whipping. Or private, even. It's happened before, and government stays secretive now-a-days and doesn't tell us what happens to those people. They don't tell us if they are breathing, still, or not.

Thankfully, a girl in a blue A-lined dress and free, brown, curly hair grabbed both off my arms and aggressively pulled me back.

"No! You're killing her!" I kicked, hoping that would allow me to break free, but it only gave the Controllers enough time to push me down and insert a thin needle that contains of a poison into my flesh. It's only temporary, it lasts three weeks the most, and it doesn't allow you to speak.

It also can be very deadly. It took a girl's life at the age six. Her and her mum were at a ceremony for their brother and son, a ceremony I go to in seven months, and spoke up so she could use the 'potty.' The Controllers, more than one, rushed over there to the now squalling girl, inserted the long needle into her rib.

Ripped her right lung like the skin of a tomatoe.

___________

My eyes met the intense light above me. The room smelled of fall- rain, trees, and moist leaves- while where I live, it smells like old, musty book pages. Not that I mind the smell of home. I think it's the most comforting smell out there.

"Your awake," a young voice bounced off the walls, shoving it down my ear. My eyes darted around, meeting a teenage boy, my age maybe. If not, he must be 18 at the most. His elbows rested on his knees. His layered black hair fell over his eyes, his eyes concealed from my vision.

"You going to talk, or what?" he demanded, lifting his head up.

A sound hitched in the back of my throat, climbing to get out. I pressed my palm on my throat, applying pressure. A fire flamed in my throat and I open my mouth to suppress a scream of mercy.The stranger rushed to my emergency, stretching to the side. His finger on my throat just made everything worsen, and I tried as hard as a newborn kitten to make a notice- a squeak even.

"Stop will you? I see they gave you that stupid needle that wont let you talk, now stop before the burn gets worse, okay?" he asked, his voice making me jump. He sounded cold and harsh, intimidating even. It also sounded somewhat caring.

I just went with a quick nod and a few swallows to try and calm the burn down. He applied a small amount of pressure on my throat, along with ice on making small circles with his other hand. The ice soon melted, and a speck of the burning sensation went away. The guy in front of me wiped the water off on his black skinny leaned pants.