The Feral Sentence (Book 1, Part 2) (9 page)

Maybe—just
maybe—this inevitable war could be delayed just long enough for me
to finish out my sentence. Attacks were unavoidable, but it wasn’t
unrealistic of me to hope for long gaps in between each attack. I
didn’t want to be a part of the merciless bloodshed. I just wanted
to go home.

“
Ellie?”
I asked.

Her eyes lit
up, and she waited in silence.

“
How
long do you have left to serve?”

I suddenly
felt as though I’d offended her. The happy-go-lucky way about her
faded, and what remained was unease and masked depression.

“
Why’re
you asking me that?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I
just… I’m just wondering… How do you know when your time is up? I
mean, do you count the days? Does the government keep track of it?
Where do you get picked up? When will I know when my sentence is
up?”

And she just
stared at me as would a child being explained the actual meaning of
death for the first time. She parted her lips to speak, but nothing
came out. I’d been about to ask her to answer me, but something
told me I already knew the answer.

I felt a
sickening nausea overwhelm me. No one was coming back for me—not in
three years, not ever.

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