If America Wasn't Selected: A Selection Fanfic

Chapter Nine: Maxon

No. Nonononono!

I woke up at two-thirty in the morning to the sounds of sirens, screaming, and gunshots. I instantly jumped out of bed and didn't even care to put on a robe. I had thirty-five girls to look after, not to mention myself.

Once I got outside, everyone was running away from the Rebels. Already, people were shot down. I wanted to cry, to save all these people. I was the prince of Illea, and I was watching my citizens...die.

"Maxon!" someone yelled. I turned around to see my father, King Clarkson.

"Father?" I ran to him, where he hid behind a rock. Holding a gun.

"Maxon, run into the forest. Go," he urged me.

"Father, but what about you?"

He sighed. "Just, go. You are the future of Illéa. Please, do this for me. Go and save all of the Selected girls."

"Father!"

"Maxon," he said, his voice dark. "Go. Run into the forest. Trust me."

I was torn, but I obeyed my father. I ran into the thickets behind the castle and kept running like my life depended on it, but no matter how fast I sprinted, I couldn't run away from the problem. The deadly screams of my citizens haunted my mind. Guilt. Betrayal. I was a terrible prince. Horrible. I was some coward who literally ran away from problems, while I allowed the Rebels, Illéa's sworn enemies, to kill my people.

I scoffed. I shouldn't even call them "my people." I didn't have the right, after sacrificing my own life for hundreds of Illéa citizens.

I simply hated myself.

I was the worst prince in the history of Illéa, and no one could deny or top that. I kept running, even though it was the exact opposite of my morals. Tears streamed down my cheek. I was crying. Now I really was a coward.

A prince, crying as he ran away from the Rebels attack which killed all his citizens. I wanted to fight, to show my braveness and determination for this country, but I had to protect myself for the Selected girls.

My heart dropped. What if some of them had already died?

I tripped over a tree root and fell to my knees, my hands covering my eyes and collecting the tears I cried. I hated myself.

"Are you okay? Your leg is bleeding," someone said. America Singer, that musician.

Thanks for stating the obvious, I thought. "Leave me alone."

"I could take you to the hospital wing, you know," she said.

I looked up at America, and sighed. "No! Just, just leave me alone, okay?! Do what I told you!"

"Wait, aren't you supposed to be fighting?" she asked.

I stood up and started to yell. "Look! I'm a coward, okay? I have to save myself so I can continue this stupid Selection! All those girls depend on me, and probably half of them are dead! So that's why I'm not fighting, okay?"

America was quiet for a while.

"I'm sorry," I blurted. "I didn't mean to say that. I'm angry. I'm-I'm a coward."

"I understand why you're here," she said. "I completely do, and you're not a coward."

"I'm not saving anyone," I argued.

"You're saving yourself," America said. "That counts. Sometimes, you have to put yourself before others."

"Yeah, but I'm a prince. It's my job to put others before me."

America leaned against a tree. "True, but -"

Then she stopped talking.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing."

"Tell me," I insisted.

She giggled. "It's nothing."

"America," I pleaded. "Tell me. It's fine."

"Okay fine." America looked down. "You're, um, shirtless."

I looked down and saw my boxers. Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap.

"It's fine," she said, laughing. "A prince is his manliest in boxers."

Crapcrapcrapcrap continued to repeat through my head. I was too embarrassed to speak.

"Maxon," America insisted. "It's okay. I told you, it was nothing."

I began to laugh. "Yeah, you're probably right." If being half-naked in front of a girl you barley know is considered as nothing.

"So, do you think we're far enough from the Rebels?" America asked, her voice shaking.

I studied the fear in her eyes. "Yeah. We're safe."

And I wasn't lying. For some odd reason, being with this girl made me feel safe. Okay. Like it wasn't my fault.

Then we heard someone yell my name. It was Celeste.