Entanglement (YA Dystopian Romance) - By Dan Rix Page 0,53

he even had the chance to hold his breath, his face was plunged underwater.

***

Amber stuffed her hair straightener, skin lotion, and shampoo—the last of her essentials—into the duffel bag, and was all ready to run away. Except the zipper wouldn’t close. She took out her socks. She’d be better off without the useless things anyway.

She took one last look around her bedroom, and the hollow feeling in her stomach deepened. Tomorrow, Aaron would meet his half and forget all about her while she would be trapped forever with Clive.

Unless, of course, she was nowhere to be found.

Amber hauled her bag down the stairs. Her mother was waiting at the door.

“Amber, darling, where do you think you’re going?”

Her mother’s voice made her flinch. “Isn’t it like a hundred years past your bedtime?” said Amber, stopping right in front of her.

“André will be here at six.”

“In the morning?” said Amber.

“You do want to get ready before your wedding, don’t you?”

“Who says I’m going?”

Her mother ignored the comment, but her lower lip twitched. “Clive says he hasn’t been able to reach you.”

“That’s because I blocked his calls,” said Amber.

“You did what?”

”You heard me, mother.”

In one sudden movement, her mom slapped her across the cheek. Amber glared at her, though the sting made her eyes tear up.

“The potentate arranged this for you. It’s your duty. Now go to bed.”

As her mother walked away, Amber could see the tattoo under the deep v-back of her nightgown—the tattoo they carved into her nine days after she was born that said she belonged to Amber’s father.

Amber would get one too.

Defeated, Amber walked back upstairs and collapsed onto her bed. Her mother was right. The idea of running away from her half, from Clive, was almost laughable, like trying to escape from her own body. There was a part of him inside her—in a place she couldn’t reach, otherwise she would have torn it out already. Their bodies were linked. No matter where on the globe she fled, he could always track her.

And now that their channel was mature, prolonged separation would be agony. After a few months of evading him, her body would start to wither. After a few years, they would both die. Being with her half wasn’t a choice—it was a biological need.

Amber buried her head in her comforter and screamed. Why couldn’t she choose her own half? She wanted Aaron.

And she wanted to hear his voice. Right now.

Hands trembling, she dialed his number. Maybe she could sneak over to his house and feel his arms around her too. Maybe they could run away together, abandon their halves and live like outlaws for a few bittersweet months—

“Hello, Amber,” said a cruel, cold voice. Clive’s voice.

Her stomach shriveled into a knot.

“Where’s Aaron?” she said, her heart sputtering.

“Don’t you want to talk to me?” he said.

“Clive, where is he?” she repeated.

“He’s fine.”

“Then put him on.”

There was silence. “Why do you hate me?” he said.

“Why do you think?”

“But you love me too.”

“Can we talk about this later?” she said.

“Amber, we were chosen to be halves,” he said. “The potentate wanted us—”

Amber hung up the phone. Just like her mom said. The potentate arranged this for you.

What did it matter what the potentate arranged? She was Clive’s half because of her own bad luck, not because the potentate arranged it. Halves were born, not chosen—

Or could they be chosen?

Suddenly, what both Clive and her mother said made perfect sense—not chosen . . . faked. She scrambled off the bed and brushed her hair from her eyes. She had to get to Aaron before tomorrow, before it was all too late.

Then her skin prickled. She felt breathless, like cold water was closing around her lungs.

Aaron.

***

Aaron was twenty-five feet underground, trapped in a tunnel full of water. His lungs writhed for oxygen. He thrust his head back, struck concrete, and raked his scalp to shreds. He scratched the walls, terrified, but there were no air pockets.

The closest air was back in the well, minutes away.

Aaron opened his eyes underwater, felt the sting, and glared up the submerged tunnel—wondering only which thought would be most fitting for the last few seconds of his life.

He chose Amber, fixed his mind on her, and just for a second pretended they spent their lives together. He imagined finding out tomorrow, on their birthday, that they were halves, that they always had been, always would be, forever—a spasm in his chest jarred him back to the tunnel. He couldn’t hold his breath any longer, he had