Emily had never done anything like this before. To break a law, to commit a Sense Crime, was punishable by death. But ever since she’d heard the girl with raven feather hair whispering about this place during work hours that day, Emily hadn’t been able to get it off her mind.
So taking her purse full of money, the last of which had been intended to buy food, she left her small one bedroom flat. Keeping her head low, sticking close to the shadows to avoid the Watchers and their red flashing eyes, Emily scurried through the dark, dirty streets of the city.
The girl had said much about this place, even where to find it. Emily wondered what type of bravery ne would have to have to speak so freely, so unafraid of the consequences. Then again, wasn’t Emily just as a brave? Leaving her homestead after curfew and for what?
To feel again…
It had been a long time since she’d felt anything other than hopelessness. In a world where even that emotion wasn’t allowed, she swallowed it along with her fear and continued walking down the street, heading into a far poorer, more dangerous neighbourhood than her own.
Pulling her coat around her and holding the purse bulging with coins close to her chest, Emily searched each number beside the rundown doorways. When she found Number 9, she halted.
It looked no different from the rest of the dilapidated street and yet, it would change her life.
Climbing the concrete steps strewn with rubbish, Emily knocked on the wooden door, careful of the patches where the wood had rotted to its bones. The door opened a crack. In that space, she saw cinnamon eyes staring back at her.
“Password?”
“Nolite timere.”
She held her breath as the door closed. She listened as the locks were pulled back and finally, the person inside was revealed.
He was tall; he practically loomed over her in that small space. But his face was kind, hair the colour of umber and a small nervous smile which lit up his eyes.
Stepping back, he beckoned her inside.
Once the door was closed, it was almost impossible to see. She stumbled, her hands reaching out to touch the walls either side of her. They felt damp and cool against her clammy palms. She flinched when she felt the man’s hot breath on her cheeks.
“You came here for pleasure?”
“Yes,” Emily stuttered.
“You got the money?”
Reaching into her coat pocket, she retrieved the purse and handed it to him. She listened in the pitch black as the coins jingled. He gave a satisfied grunt before taking her hand and leading her down the hallway. She grasped his hand with both of her own, her feet catching on unseen objects beneath. Soon, they were reaching what she could only assume was another door as she listened to more locks being pulled back.
Before they stepped forward, she once again felt the man’s face next to hers, his lips at her ear.
“Some people, especially women, find the sight – well, quite overwhelming.”
His hot breath against her skin sent tingles down her spine. She hadn’t felt this way in an age. Never allowed her mind to ever consider this type of joy again.
“I can handle it,” Emily breathed.
“Only if you’re sure.”
He didn’t speak again, taking her silence as acceptance. The next minute she knew, the door was being opened and he was leading her inside. In a flash, the lights were switched on and Emily suddenly couldn’t breathe.
It was as the girl at the factory had promised and the man had warned – truly overwhelming.
Everywhere she looked were books. Every wall was taken up by stacks upon stacks of books. Hardbacks and paper backs all the way to the ceiling. On the floor, taking up the small space that was left was a rug and cushions; frilly, pretty cushions that could never belong outside of this room.
She watched, still trying to catch her breath, as the man weaved his way through the room to a record player. She had never seen a real one. Only in old photos before they too were burned by the Sense Police. She viewed as he carefully placed the needle down onto a spinning black disc. Suddenly, music filled the room.
She covered her ears with a flinch, as if it could hurt to hear. As if she could be punished just by allowing it into her mind. Tears filled her eyes as the man crossed the room and came to stand before her. Gently, he lowered her hands from her ears with a soft, understanding smile.
“You’re safe here,” he whispered.
“Nowhere is safe anymore.”
“There is a place.”
“The Utopia they speak of in the factories? It is just lies. Just lies we tell ourselves to keep living when there is no longer a purpose,” Emily said, wiping at the tears on her cheeks.
She didn’t come here for more lies. She came here for truth and knowledge. To read books whose pages hadn’t been touched for many decades. Books that, if ever found, would be destroyed just like everything else that dared to make mankind feel again.
Feeling wasn’t allowed. Free speech was gone. Anyone who dared to speak out against the Establishment would be incinerated. Small places like this existed underground and not for long. Soon this too would be gone.
“There is always a purpose,” the man said. Taking a book from one of the stacks, he held it up between them.
She read the title. It was George Orwell’s 1984 – one of the very first books to be destroyed by the Establishment. What they deemed to be the most dangerous piece of literature ever written. Emily had longed to read it ever since.
“For as long as there are people like us, people who will never stop fighting, never stop speaking the truth, this world stands a chance,” he said, passing the book into her palms.
Their fingers caressed sending another wave of shivers across her body. She stared up into his eyes. He flinched, having seemingly felt it too. Emily gulped back the anxiety tight in her chest as she hugged the book close.
“You came here for a reason – what is your name?” he frowned.
“My name? Emily,” she replied. No one had asked her for her name in so long. “What’s yours?”
“Will,” he said with another one of those smiles which lit up his handsome face. “My name’s Will.”
Hillside Academy: AUs Copyright © 2020 Jodie May Mullen