Before I could even acknowledge what was happening, my feet were carrying me away. Out of the room, racing down the stairs of the lecture hall, and sprinting down the smooth road. I didn't know where I was until I looked up and find myself in front of my house. I ran a hand across my eyes, surprised to find the wetness there, looking down in shock at the patterns it traced on the back of my hand.

Shakily, I started on my way up the steps to my house, my hands wiping the remnants of tears from my eyes. I knew they'd still be red, but at least there would be less evidence of how shaken I'd been by the whole experience.

My entire life was now changed. There was nothing I could do but accept just how different things were going to be. Everything that I knew would have to go, and I wouldn't even have to time for a proper goodbye. It would just be here and now, and then everything would be gone. The thought settled heavily into the pit of my stomach, seeming to weigh me down as I walked up the steps.

I slowly pulled the door open, careful to be as quiet as I could. I knew my father would be in his office, which just so happened to be right by the door. Every noise the door made while opening grated on my nerves, and I silently berated myself for not coming in through the back door. But it was too late now. I carefully kept edging the door open, cringing at even the slightest sounds that escaped into the hallway on the other side of the door as I did. Finally, the door was open wide enough for me to slip in.

I somehow managed to get myself through the door without making a sound. Slowly, I closed the door behind me, flinching at the squealing noise the hinges made as I did so. No one in the house stirred. I crossed the floor silently to the stairs, making my way up them softly. My room waited for me upstairs, and I knew I needed to get there and pack my things. There wasn't going to be much time. I'd be shocked if the politician that'd been lecturing us hadn't already tracked down some guards to track me down.

I opened the door to my room, not bothering to be quiet now. Really, I just needed to be fast. What would I need? I recited the four quadrants to myself: beach, mountain, desert, city. Cursing under my breath, I stormed over to my drawers. I would need basically every type of clothing I had. I pulled out shorts and warm jeans, t-shirts and sweaters, throwing what I needed into a pack and discarding the rest. Reaching in, I found swim trunks – the last item I needed. I threw them into my bag.

It was then that I hesitated. I sat down on my bed, feeling entirely overwhelmed. This was my life, everything that I knew and cared about. When it came down to it, I wasn't really ready to say goodbye quite yet. This was the essence of who I was, where I'd come from, why I had to do what I had to do.

As I sat there, I slipped my tennis-shoes off and replaced them with the sturdier shoes I got for going on runs. I'd only used them enough to break them in, so now they were in great shape and entirely comfortable. Then I jammed my normal shoes on top of the pile of clothes in my bag, just in case I needed them.

I guess this was it. Everything I would take with me, every memory and remnant of my existence here in the COMPOUND would remain here. This is everything that I would take with me. The weight again settled in the pit of my stomach as I slung the straps of my pack over my shoulders, my throat tightening as I resolved to never come back.

Something inside of me managed to gather strength, and I found myself almost being propelled across the room. It's safer for them I told myself, nodding firmly. Leyca, my mother, even my father would be safer. There was no reason for them to suffer simply because I was going to be overwhelmed by homesickness. That was my problem, not theirs.

I crossed the room steadily. A plan began to form in my head as I did so. Yes, first I would go and pack food. I'd write a goodbye letter to Leyca. And then I would go – out to the very outer rings of the COMPOUND. Having been raised as I was, I knew the layout of Patella. How the COMPOUND was organized in rings, and the ring you lived in was based on your social class. The Politicians lived in the middle, where I did, and it got progressively lower class the further out you went. We're often told it's to dissuade others from wanting to traverse through the lowest of the lows to escape, but personally I think it's because the politicians think they're the center of the universe.

I pulled the door open and gasped in shock. It was my father. What was he doing here? How did he know I was here? Just as I was about to start trying to fib my way through some reason why I might be home right then, he laid a finger across his lips, signaling me to be silent. I didn't understand, but I knew better than to question something he's trying to tell me. I fell completely silent, waiting for him to explain what's happening. He held a bag out to me, pantomiming for me to not open it. I nodded, and swung it onto my shoulders on top of my other bag.

Nothing was making sense, but I wasn't one to question it. My father wasn't someone who tolerated, let alone enjoyed, being questioned, and I'd learned to deal with it over the past couple of years. Not only that, but there was an air of seriousness surrounding him right now, and the look I saw in his eyes wasn't one I'd ever seen before. It scared me. That alone would've been enough to get me to hold my tongue.

My father then motioned for me to follow him, turning and softly walking down the hallway. I hesitated for a couple of seconds before I decided to follow. An uneasy feeling settled over me as we moved down the hall, nearing the top of the stairs. Father stopped just before the stairs began, holding up a hand to stop me. "He's not in his bedroom, I checked. Perhaps he went to a friends house, or maybe he's hiding like the coward a slicker would have to be. Either way, he's not up here," father called down to the bottom of the stairs.

I felt the blood drain out of my face and my legs turned to jelly and started to wobble. I wanted to turn and run, but where would I have gone? Nowhere was safe. I already knew that.

The back exit was the way we'd just come, but my father knew exactly where it was, and would simply follow me. So I stayed rooted to the ground where I stood. I didn't dare to move for fear that I'd make a sound and somehow alert the group downstairs to my presence, even though they probably already knew I was there.

I heard some mixed grumbling and cursing from downstairs, people shuffling around in irritation and annoyance. "Alright. I don't trust that boy out there. He's one to stir up trouble," a voice yelled up to my father. My father nodded slowly, almost solemnly, in agreement. His nod made me flinch. He's going to turn me in. The thought made me want to cry, and I almost turned and ran away even though I knew I couldn't go anywhere. But something about how he had acted earlier kept me standing there, waiting and watching.

I think I tuned out for a couple of minutes. I don't remember what happened, who said what or did what or anything. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was a merciful act of god. I wasn't really sure, and I doubted that I'd ever know. All I remembered was hearing the door slam shut, and a blanket of silence descending over the house.

My eyes locked on the figure of my father as he wearily slumped against the banister of the stairs, cradling his head in his hands. I could barely hear him when he whispered, "Oh Evrynn..." I wanted to go to him, tell him how sorry I was, beg for his forgiveness. I couldn't stand to see him like this, seeing how he'd never once shown anything close to this level of emotion regarding me. Yes, I'd faced his disdain and disregard. But he'd always seemed above me. I'd never seen him look so low. So broken.

Before I could process what was happening, he was up and moving again. He gestured for me to follow him, jerking his hand awkwardly and abruptly, not waiting to make sure I obeyed. I had no choice but to do so. As I trailed behind him, I heard him muttering things to himself, too quiet for me to understand. He paced up and down the hall a few times, then barreled his way down the back set of stairs, taking the two of us down to the back of his office.

He again mumbled under his breath, crossing from one side of the room to the other in a hurried frenzy. Every time he stopped, he picked something up and put what he already had in his hands down. Finally, he came to a pause. His eyes fell to a small chest sitting under a picture frame. I'd never noticed it before; it was small and in-ornate. The box was entirely plain, while most everything else in the office was gaudy and vibrant.

My father walked over to it, gently running his hand along the top of it. He didn't say a word as he pulled a small key from his pocket. It was a key I'd never seen before. Small and silver, it hung from a delicate chain that matched the trim along the edge of the box. Carefully, my father slid the key into the small lock that secured the box. The lid popped open as he turned it, revealing several drawers-- what they held, only he knew.

"Give me your bag, Evrynn," he ordered. It was the first time he'd spoken to me directly since this whole incident had started, and it brought me back to reality a bit. I passed my bag over to him wordlessly. The moment felt reverent, as if speaking would somehow desecrate what my father was trying to do.

My father took my bag from me. Opening it, I saw him slide an object into it. I couldn't quite tell what it was, but it looked relatively small and thin. I hoped it wouldn't get ruined with all of the big and heavy things in that pack. Father paused slightly, before reaching into another compartment and pulling out what looked to be a letter. It was in an envelope, but it didn't look as though it had been sealed.

Father then zipped my bag closed with a loud snarl that tore apart the reverence encasing the house. The peace shattered-- it was time to go. He placed the bag back in my hands and stood before me, staring into my eyes. I hadn't realized it before, but I was almost as tall as him. I slid the pack back onto my shoulders, never looking away from him.

He then did something he'd never done before. He nodded at me, and somehow I could feel his approval and caring in it. My father had never been one to allow emotions to rule anything he does, so something close to a heartfelt goodbye would've been false and unrealistic. That wasn't who my father was. This small nod of approval told me more than he ever could with a hug. This showed his understanding and acceptance of my actions, as well as his ability to realize my reasoning behind them. In that one small action, I felt more approval from my father than any number of years spent together could convey to me.

He jerked his head towards the back door, indicating that it was time for me to go. I nodded slowly, somehow feeling both scared and resolved in what I was going to do. Having my father's understanding, if not his acceptance, of my actions seemed to be what I truly needed to be able to progress and take a strong role in the rebellion. I just hoped my family would be safe when I did.

"Go stir up some trouble," he whispered.

I nodded to him firmly, and before I could convince myself otherwise, I walked to the door and rested my hand on the doorknob. Part of me wanted to look back for one final glimpse at everything I knew. However, a voice inside of me knew that it wouldn't help anything. I'd said my goodbye. I'd seen what I needed to see. There was nothing left for me to say goodbye to.

And so, I turned to handle and pushed the door open, stepping out into the cool air. The cold seemed to eat away even more at my memories and feelings, and before I'd even taken a few steps, a numbness settled over me. This was it.

My steps carried me out and away, but my thoughts and memories drifted back. I never got to say goodbye... Mother, Leyca... They'll never know why I did it, why I felt the need to leave and never look back. And of course father won't tell them. He can't. He risked his life to get me out today. I'm not really even sure why he did. Surely he's more the type to track down kids like me rather than aide them. For all I know, he does. Maybe it was mercy... maybe even love. I don't know.

My thoughts were starting to frustrate me, so I pushed them to the side and tried to concentrate on where I was. I didn't really recognize any of the houses, but I knew that I was heading out. That's all I really needed to know I guess. As long as I was headed out, I was headed in the right direction.

My pack started weighing more heavily as I walked onward, begging for me to check the mysterious contents. I had no choice but to stop and check to see what they were.

I walked on until a small, hidden path caught the corner of my eye. My brow furrowed as I glanced over it curiously, noticing the way the hanging leaves camouflaged the entrance unless you looked carefully. It was unlike any path I'd ever seen in the COMPOUND. I trudged over there, carefully eying the place. It seemed... suspicious. I couldn't really put a finger on it. Perhaps that's because it was so out of place. What could it hurt though? I was already a slicker, and a caught one at that. I didn't have much to lose.

I crossed over to the little alleyway, walking along the path until I knew I would be completely concealed from the view of anyone on the normal road. It was then that I allowed myself to plop down on the ground, letting out little sighs of relief. My feet tingled in an unpleasant manner from the release of pressure. I let my packs drop to to the ground in front of me, and I reached to massage my sore shoulders from the weight of them.

I allowed myself to indulge in the relaxation for quite some time, before I lifted my head with a groan from where it rested in my hands. Yes, I was exhausted. I couldn't even tell you how long I'd been walking, but it was a long time. My feet were sore and aching already, and my shoulders stung from the weight of the packs. But I couldn't let that hold me back. I knew I needed to look through the pack, and start moving. No matter how sore I was now, I knew every movement was crucial. It's not like I could just lay there and stop moving entirely. Every day, I would need to keep moving. Complaining now wasn't an option.

I pulled the bag my father had packed up onto my legs, stretching them out. The zipper came down with ease, revealing several cases of small, energy-packed food. There were also several cash cards, and I knew father would've wanted me to use them for food, seeing how that's what the whole bag was filled with.

The thought came to be about how I hadn't packed anything in the way of food. Without the help of my father, I would've starved out here in a matter of days. Now, he'd supplied me with enough food to get far away from the Politicians that were stalking me, and then enough money to get me all the way out. Once out, I'd have to fend for myself and hopefully find the rebellion. They would care for me. I hoped.

There were rumors, probably started by the politicians themselves, which said the rebellion wasn't quite what it claimed to be. That it was lead by corrupt men and women with no regard for humanity or furthering society as a whole. I doubted that they were true. I'd seen what the politicians were capable of, having lived among them my entire life. Even if the rebellion leaders weren't as noble as they made themselves out to be, they had to be better than the politicians that ruled over all of Patella.

I shook myself out of my thoughts. I'd have plenty of time for them while I walked tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after... Right now I needed to focus on why I actually stopped. I shoved my hand down into the depths of the bag, searching for the two things my father had slipped in there right before I left.

My fingers closed around what felt like a slip of paper, and I gently tugged it out. My forehead wrinkled as I looked down at what I now held in my hands. It was an old-style photo. I hadn't ever seen the photograph before. Something like this had to retain a lot of sentimental value, but the question was, to who?

A stunning young woman lovingly looked into the handsome face of a young man, who returned the look with one of his own, his eyes filled with adoration. He wore a sharp black suit coat, black slacks, and a crisp white button down shirt. The woman wore a stunning white dress that fit her body like a glove and was decked out in glitzy jewels that created swirls on her stomach. Her hair was curled into immaculate ringlets that framed her face like a shining halo.

My eyes focused on the man a bit more. Something about him seemed incredibly familiar... I couldn't put my finger on it. But there was something about him that resonated in me. I knew him. I just didn't know how. Maybe even the woman... My eyes drifted over to her, looking at the wide smile on her face and the sparkle in her eyes. You don't see women looking like that nowadays.

The thought sobered me instantly. Leyca. My heart throbbed painfully in my chest. For the past while, I'd managed to forget about the fact that I never even got to say goodbye. An image of Jerr flared up in my mind, but I immediately pressed it down. I wouldn't even think about that. I left to help them. That was my only condolence.

The smiling people in the photo seemed to mock me. They screamed out just how happy they were, how you would never be that happy in your entire life. But the longer I looked at it, the more I felt something springing up inside of me. I don't think it's possible to describe what I felt. The easiest way to describe it was that when I looked down at the picture in my hands, I no longer felt jealous. It was as though I was looking into the future. I could see myself, or maybe one of my children, in this photo. This. This was what I was fighting for. I didn't care about revenge against the politicians. I cared about the happiness and love expressed in this one simple picture.

I held the picture that I now treasured in my hand. Nothing could dissuade me from trying my hardest to get to it. This goal, this dream... it meant everything to me now. And I wouldn't rest until I saw it finished. It took me several long moments before I could even bear to put the picture away. I knew it would be something that I would pull out often, just to remind me of what I now stood for.

I finally tore my eyes off of the picture, surprised at how different I felt. One picture. How could it change so very much? Reverently, I slipped the picture into a compartment in the bag. I didn't want it to get ruined or crumpled, even though it was starting to get a little bit rumpled around the corners.

I then reached back into the bag, my fingers searching for the other item my father packed in. They closed around a slightly thicker item. It felt as though it were a couple of sheets of paper rather than the just one. It also felt a bit rougher than the gloss of the picture. I carefully pulled it out, finding myself looking at an older envelope. There were no stamps, and it wasn't sealed. On the front was a long, looping handwriting that I instantly recognized. I'd seen it every time I entered my father's office while he was working, simply because it was his.