Gilded Truth

Chapter Two

"Effe!" Marayah runs towards me holding a paper up, written on it is her name in different colors of pink and green. "Look, Effe! I can now write my name." She giggles excitedly as she waves the paper in front of her. My hand combs her hair as my lips form a smile. "Great job, Marayah. Soon, you'll be able to read and write." She nods continuously as she turns the paper to face her. "I will soon be a writer like you, Effe . . . I will write stories of people so the world can know about them."

The smile on my face fades away as Marayah's dreams struck me. I crouch in front of her and comb away streaks of hair that fell on her face. "Marayah, listen to me." I can't afford to lose any of these children, I don't want any of them to follow my path to the truth. It is not a safe path and will never be the safest. "I'm glad that your dreams are slowly coming together, but I hope that you won't be like me. You're still too young to understand but once this is over, you'll understand why I won't encourage you to be like me." I pull Marayah into my arms. Suddenly, guilt and helplessness stir inside of me. These children deserve to learn everything about this world, but they are too young to realize how harsh the world could be. And they could be put in any vulnerable situation one could think of just because they are disadvantaged.

Marayah and her family are refugees, victims of the abusive labor policies of this government. We met them when they were shunned away by landowners. They were scavenging every piece of metal they could find in hopes of exchanging it for a few coins, searching for bins of food that were discarded from restaurants and establishments. Like us, they are victims of corruption and abuse, but unlike us, they have always lived like this.

I let go of Marayah's fragile body, fix her sleeves, and pat her cheeks lightly. "Go and play with other children, I'll read you a story when I have time." Marayah raises her pinky finger, her smile bright despite her living condition right now. It amazes me how a child could find even the slightest light in every dire situation. If I could just have an opportunity to feel how it is to be optimistic at such a young age, then how wonderful it could be. "Promise that you'll read us a new story?" I smile and raise my pinky finger. Marayah's tiny finger wraps around mine, intertwining till it locks. "Then it's a deal." She hops as she goes towards the group of children playing from a distance.

I watch as the children play as if they are not victims themselves, living as if they are just normal citizens. Their smiles are no different from those who are privileged enough to be able to eat three meals a day or to be able to study in elite schools in this country. These children's future is in our hands, when the older generation fails to preserve our future then it is our responsibility to build a better future for tomorrow's generation.

Our place is no better than the slums. We live by the stench of a polluted environment—denizens of abandoned infrastructures forgotten by the government. We find solace in desolate places where we can hide from the eyes of the authorities, where every room is turned into makeshift homes for hundreds of families. The compound we live in serves as our home and our quarters. This is where we train, study, and live with other refugees and renegades. We may be outcasts in society, but we have built our pack, we have redefined what a society should be, and for us, a society should be a community of people who have a common goal for development.

I walk towards another building—to our quarters. "Effe . . ." I nod to those who have called my name as I walk up to my room. I lift the curtain that serves as a divider and door to my room. Inside my room are piles of old books and papers scattered on the floor. There are pencils cut in half and a chalkboard by the wall, below it is a desk. On the other side are a bed and a clothesline by the end of the bed. I slide off my jacket and hang it by the headboard of my bed. The cold touch of the wind from my open window caresses my shoulder after removing it. I unarm myself, removing my belt which has my tranquilizer guns and daggers. The metals clatter as it comes in contact with the hardwood board.

"Effe?" Ivo's voice resounds from outside my room, I look at myself in the mirror. I look like a civilian without my arms, as if I am not one of the renegades this country is trying to find. As if I am not their greatest enemy of this time. I should be one of those people that this government has sworn to protect yet I am one of those they desperately want to catch. And once they got their hands on me, they would not let me go. I sit by the edge of my bed and look towards the doorway of my room. "What is it?" I start to remove my boots and socks, changing to worn-out shoes I usually wear when we are at the base. "Can I come in?" Ivo asks, I heave a sigh and give Ivo my permission to let him in my room.

The curtain rustles as Ivo's tall stature towers the doorway, he changes from his tight black bodysuit and camo pants to a plain white tee and tattered denim pants. His slicked hair is combed down, it touches his eyebrows. He does not look like someone who sneaks into the armory of the government, but a young man who seems to enjoy his youth. His fairly handsome features could fool any girl from the elites, he can make one swoon with his dimpled smile. If he were just an ordinary citizen, he could probably find a bride at his age by now.

"What's the matter?" I notice how solemn Ivo's face is when he comes into my room. I bite the insides of my cheeks, I don't think this would be favorable news for our camp. "Our resources are about to be exhausted, those who manage it wanted me to relay this message to you." I look out of my window, away from the siren and strict rules of the capital we can live peacefully here. We are free from any rules that will shackle us, but this is the cost of our temporary freedom, we have little to no resources. We live by stealing and scavenging so that we could have food to eat.

"How long will it last us?" I can't look at Ivo right now, I have to think of a way for us to live further. The plan we have isn't even halfway, if we were to exhaust our resources at this crucial time, then we are doing this revolution for naught. "Three months at most." I can feel all the colors in me draining, we cannot rush our plan, or else it will fail. "I have my savings, you can bring it to the treasury."

"Keep it, Effe. It's your money for publishing your papers. How can you continue your work if you don't have capital?" My hands clench a handful of my bedsheets. "Then do you want me to watch us exhaust all our resources? We will die of hunger, and if sacrificing writing means we would live another day, then I'd sacrifice it."

"But can you sacrifice the truth?" I freeze from Ivo's question. What am I thinking? These people are sacrificing and living in this community because of the hope they saw in us. Ivo is right, I may think of sacrificing every fund I have and writing my papers, but can I afford to sacrifice the truth? Can I sacrifice more lives if I stop? I have come a long way. It's the desperation that drives me to the point of losing why I am here.

"You are right, I can't sacrifice the truth. Sacrificing it would further sacrifice the lives of hundreds of thousands of people." I look at the window, watching the glistening lights from the distant capital. From where we are is nothing but absolute darkness, yet we feel like we never really live in the dark for we know what the true meaning of light is. But to those who live in the towering heights and glistening lights are blinded already, not aware of the impending darkness that may succumb to them at any time. And that is the difference between those who know what it feels like to be in the dark when they find the true light, those who witness hardship, and those who are brought to the light because of the truth.

Truth is light, and light is hope. I look at the tattooed words on my arm. Veritas lux mea. One should never sacrifice the truth. I smile as I gaze at the distant horizon, it may be hard right now, but we have survived over the years. This is nothing, we can always cross the bridge. My eyes met Ivo's, I notice how he was also smiling with his caramel eyes glistening in the dark.

"So what's the plan now, Alethea?"