BEFORE YOU READ, PLEASE READ THIS AUTHORS NOTE:

I have a fictionpress account where I am updating my main story Ignis et Aqua weekly. If you want to read more, then check that out because I'm quite active on that account. My fictionpress name is ScarlettColombianNeckties and I actually would really love some more feedback on Ignis et Aqua. It's about fourty short chapters so far so I hope some of you guys will check it out.

Also, I'm really sorry for not updating this. I've been needing to do something where I could be free with my characters and that's why I went to fictionpress. And don't worry. It'll return to Will and Tessa soon after I'm done with this short mid story.

Don't forget to check out my fictionpress and write on.

Oh, and I don't even remember most of my story... So there might be incongruity.

Our Sins are our Saviour Part 3

The only memory I have of my mother is when I was hardly aware of the world around me.

Although we lived in England, it had never occurred to me how odd it was that my mother spoke in a different dialect than her counterparts. I had grown used to switching between languages, needing to speak Mandarin with her before English to another. That was, however, before most languages in the new London we lived in were banned.

Retired escorts used to joke about how we beat Russia when it came to oppression. People used to joke about how kids used to cringe at the sight of death. People used to joke about how the world was white before blood coloured it red and no one was sure if someone was just bloody or an Indian. I was too young to get what they meant. Now I understand.

I don't want to understand it.

And now I understand racism and why we went to war with India and China and Spain because the condescending tone we choose to take makes us vulnerable and prideful.

Sorry.

I shouldn't say we.

Them.

I remember my mother saying something about us being "Yellow minorities," so the first time I started working at M's establishment, I told one other escort in training that I was yellow. And he looked at me and, in a confused voice, explained that, "No. You're peach," And that he had never seen someone who was yellow in his life. And through all the girls I've escorted and the starving nights and the killings, it all boils down to the gun in my hands and the silent promise I've given Tessa.

We have most of it planned. The ones who are participating will sneak out while I act as a decoy. It's a dangerous job, but my life is hardly worth anything compared to theirs. They're the reason I'm doing this.

I'll run off and shoot a round to attract guards, leaving the east quadrant open where the M estate flanks the forest. I'll shoot to kill. Shoot to kill... Kill... Somehow, the idea isn't as sickening anymore and I try and try and try to push down my indifference to the situation but I can't.

Sophie's a goddess, having found files that indicate how many and where guards are set to patrol on which designated day.

I pull them towards me across the wooden floor, wetting my fingertip slightly to peel the stuck pages apart. We had originally hoped for a day where no guards were patrolling, but looking at the files, the wish seems futile. I glance out my window and I hold the papers up to the moonlight to try and see what is inscribed upon them. I can hardly make out the writing and small print, but in the matter of a few minutes, they start to make sense.

The gun beside me gleams and I hate the way it lends a feeling of security.

When I've gone over the files and my skin is covered in goosebumps as the chilled air shuffles inside, I shiver and push the gun and papers beneath my bed. God knows what else is under there.

Through the pane of my window, I can see the city lights, all neon and chrome with flashy stages and advertisements. Projections fill the air and in the back of my mind, I can almost hear the swaying of music carried in a breeze. Technology changes. People don't.

I still have a twinge of ignorant hope in me, though, and I contemplate our risky maneuver.

I can escape or die a martyr. That's more than most would hope for.

A rap at the door startles me and sweat gathers in my palms, nervousness settling at the back of my throat. I put on a calm expression, though, as I stand up, walking to my door. I hesitate my hand hovering over the doorknob before I open it, letting it click open.

"Theresa," I let out a sigh, although surprise keeps me in the doorway, "What are you doing here?"

She lifts a finger to her lips, pushing past me. She smells like lavender. Smoothing her nightgown, she waits for me to close the door, which I eventually do despite my confusion.

"Theresa," I repeat, "You'll get caught here."

"Jem. Call me Tessa. Honestly," she says, settling upon the cold floor, "And don't worry. There are no guards in the halls tonight because of a meeting downstairs," she explains, her eyes twinkling in the night. "I have something that came for me."

"What?" I ask curiously, walking over to her, "From who?"

"My brother," she smiles lightly, all the innocence of her age clear in her face, "He sent me a letter."

"And?" I encourage, sitting down.

She pulls out a letter from a pocket in her nightgown, showing me the contents. In it, are crisp pieces of paper that are lined up neatly inside. I draw in a sharp breath. Money? Poking a finger inside the envelope, I stare at the numbers. It's not much, but to us, it's everything.

"Why would he do this?" I inquire and she just shrugs.

"I don't know, but this will help us, won't it?" she says, a true smile gracing her features, "I've been looking forward to getting out of here," she continues. I don't know if she realizes how hard it will be to escape, but I nod, brushing black hair from my eyes.

"This is definitely going to help." I say, my eyes traveling to under the bed where the gun and files lie, "And I'll map out where you and anyone who wants to come needs to go when I go to distract," I say. I can't let her spirits be dampened and I put a hand on her knee. "We're going to be free. I know it, Tessa."

She pauses and gives a small laugh. "You finally called me Tessa."

"Sorry. It slipped. Theresa."

"No. Tessa."

"I should call you by a proper name," I argue lightly.

"Tessa is a proper name. It's my name and you just have to accept that, okay?" she says, pursing her lips. I bite my lip and the edges of my mouth curl up slightly.

"Fine... Tessa," I finally agree and she sets the envelope on the floor.

"I want you to keep this safe," she says, standing up and brushing her fingers through her dark wavy hair, "You're good at keeping things safe. And I know we're going to be safe. Tomorrow you can tell me about where to go when we finally do... Run...Okay?"

I nod and part of me wants to grin at our fantastical idea. She just gives me a warm look and walks out, shutting the door behind her. The room grows silent again and I feel like a child against the vastness of the world. We have a chance. I know we do.

But beneath the wishes

And hope,

And determination,

And persistence,

I'm constantly trying to hide the feeling of dread.

A/N: If you didn't read my as authors note at the beginning, I'll give you the short version. Go to my fictionpress ScarlettColombianNeckties and check out my story Ignis et Aqua.