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I hear her swallow, and watch her try to stop her lips from quivering as she holds back the tears in her eyes. Then, she nods. The relief that rushes through me feels so wrong. How can I be relieved at my sister accepting my death? But I need her to. I need this to not be entirely worthless. Because I don't want her to stay here at all, but we need to put on a good show for the president for him to truly let her go.
“Well, everyone's happy,” the president states as he stands. “So, let's get on with this. You have forfeited receiving the last meals of your choice with your foolish actions, so we'll go straight to preparing you for the monster. When you go out to the balcony for your final goodbye, you will smile, you will wave, and you will tell every single person in this quadrant how honored you are to be this year's draft pick, and how happy you are to be of service to your people.”
Is that what this all about? Does he need a smiling face on that balcony to put people's fears to rest? He needs me out there acting like I’m pleased to do this so it will quell the voices who've begun to speak out against the draft. He needs me to be a pleasant distraction from all the things we simply believed when he said it before but now question. Now, it begins to make a bit more sense, like why they didn't tell anyone that I'd run. It would have put an even bigger spotlight on how people really feel about the draft, the sacrifice.
“Can Leah stay with me?” I ask. “Until…the end?”
He looks at Leah, eyes going up and down her body in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“Yes. I'm sure she will keep you in line should you have any more thoughts of…breaking your word.”
He presses a button on the phone again, telling someone to come to the room, but my eyes are on Leah. I can tell she's desperately trying to hold herself together, taking deep breaths, her hands gripping her knees, and teeth biting into her bottom lip.
“It'll be okay,” I murmur to her.
“It won't,” she replies.
The door opens and an older woman waits in the doorway.
“The sacrifice has arrived.” The president motions towards me. “Have her ready in time to come to the balcony. And her sister will be joining her for the time being.”
The woman nods. “If you two would follow me?”
We both stand and walk towards her, my hand linking with Leah's because I don't trust him not to steal her away from me at any moment. The woman walks down the hallway, and it's only when we get to another section that I realize we're in the processing center full of gold statues and expensive floors. The balcony where the sacrifices say their final goodbyes extends off of one of these floors. He knew there was no chance I wouldn't take his offer, so he brought me straight here instead of the prison.
“We would normally do this over a period of time to let you relax today,” the women begins, “but well, it's almost seven now, so we're in a bit of a rush.”
Seven. Five hours left until my death. I see what she means about rushing through when we get into a room and although there are massage oils laid out, she begins preparing the wax instead. The woman turns her back as I begin to undress, so I hand my clothes to Leah, making sure her hands settle on the thick envelope of money in my jacket pocket. She opens her mouth to speak but I give a quick shake of my head. The woman turns to face me again, giving me a tight smile before instructing me to lay on the table. Leah sits by my head, holding my hand as I get waxed from my eyebrows to my shins. I want to say so much to her, but I'm waiting for a single moment alone. I'm sure there are probably cameras in each room and that the woman has been told to listen out for anything troubling.
From there, I'm immediately taken to another room and am put in a bathtub, harshly scrubbed, hair washed, nails clipped, and polished. I get out and lotions are rubbed into my skin before I'm turned around to see my dress hanging up, waiting for me. No panties, no bra. They just help me into a sleeveless, backless, floor length black dress with a plunging neckline that leaves my breasts on display. I hate it, even though I can admit it is beautiful.
Leah doesn't speak a word during any of it. She just holds my hand when she can or watches me from a corner. I can see the dread beginning to consume her because it's settling over me as well. These are our last moments together. I want to smile for her, the way Grace did for us, but I don't know where my sister found the strength to do that as she left our house. I've been searching for it the whole time they've primped and pampered me, but still, I'm coming up empty.
Finally, I'm seated in a chair for them to do my hair and the hairdresser goes in search of something she needs. I hurry to lean over to Leah.
“The moment you feel it's safe, you take the money in that envelope, and you run,” I whisper, making her eyes widen.
“But you said…”
“I don't care what I said in front of the president, or any assurances he gave. I don't trust him. He will have you followed, make sure you're not telling people what happened here, but a time will come when he’ll consider you too great a risk, that you know too much. So, when you feel there's an opportunity, you get the hell out. Don't use Edwin because either he ratted us out or they'll already be expecting you to use him. But you go. Take the money and go.”
“If you're doing all of this, and think they'd try to imprison me, anyway, that what's the point?”
“Because it's the only way you leave this center tonight and go home instead of to prison. It gives you a chance to get to safety, whereas if I don't do this, he's sure to either throw us in prison together or kill us both.”
I hear the click of heels coming closer to us, so I hurry to add, “Everything else I said was true. I'm dying so you can live, Leah. So, live.”
I lean back as the woman reaches me.
Leah all but whispers, “Live how, Keri?”
I figure there’s no harm in talking about this is front of the hairdresser.
“Find yourself a handsome man.” I give a weak chuckle.
“Ugh. Men disgust me.”
“They’re not all like him,” I say low.
