Ruin - By N.M. Martinez Page 0,3

he were taking in details about black suits around us. When I almost catch his eye again, I look ahead quickly.

The fence goes high up into the air. At the top are strands of barbed wire. Two guards stand at the entrance dressed in regular military uniforms. They watch us come up cautiously, each holding a large gun. On the other side of the fence, the ground is covered in brown plants and wild bushes. The grass is waist high for me except for a worn path which we follow with the guards next to us.

I walk between the two men while trying not to accidentally brush against them with my hand. The walk is uncomfortably quiet. No one says a word. I keep trying to glance up, but catching sight of either the gray eyes of the younger guy or the forearms of the older guy makes me nervous. My body is completely on autopilot, my brain blank, as I take steps further and further away from home and from my mother.

A hasty breath burns down my throat to my lungs. I suck on my lower lip, squeezing it tightly between my teeth. It's like when you lose someone and your brain refuses to accept it, but you know it's real. This isn't a dream; it's actually happening. But I can't help feeling like someone will say, "Just kidding," at the end of this walk and let me go back. I'm not a part of this. I don't even know these men.

There's a second gate, a larger wider one that is sterner than the simple wire one we first walked through. This one is supported by cinder blocks and tall towers where more uniforms stand with thin rifles. It's when I see the second fence that I worry I'm going to be sick. Automatically, my hand jumps to my mouth and it presses my lips against my teeth like I can stop that feeling.

On the other side of the fence lays The Wildlands. My first glimpse is sparse green hills that go off into the distance. There's a small road before us, and on that road there's an old car with rust strains all over its basic white paint.

"Go. Don't come back," the guard in the lead says. I can almost hear her smile.

My feet freeze. I'm stuck in my place watching the two men walk carefully over to the car with their eyes on the tower. The guard behind me gives me a shove towards them.

"You too."

The older man stops and looks back at us as the younger man walks around to the other side of the car. First he glares at the guard behind me, then his eyes fall on me. "C'mon," he says with that same expression he's worn since the judgment room.

I don't move. My body won't listen, every muscle is frozen. Behind me is my home, the last I'll ever see of it, and in front of me is the one place I never thought I'd go.

The younger man is already on the far side of the car when he pauses to take in the scene and then scowls. My body, still frozen, flinches when he starts towards me, but the only thing I can do is squeeze my eyes shut until he's on me. He wraps one hand around my upper arm, the other one ripping the duffel from my hands, and pulls me to the car,

I want to pull away. I don't want his hands on me. But he holds me securely, in a way that would be difficult to break. Fighting him would only annoy him more.

He tosses my bag into the back seat, then pushes me towards the car. I throw my hands up to stop my body from hitting the side, and then I hop in, scooting across the back seat before he grabs me to try his toss again.

I grab my duffel bag and hold onto it tightly.

The younger man doesn't look abashed under the glare of the older one. He only shrugs, then walks around the car to have a seat in front of me. The older man gets in, and starts the car without a word. As the car rolls down the broken road and into the Wildlands, my heart beats so hard in my chest that I can feel it hitting against the fabric of the duffel. My eyes sting, but I wipe them on the rough material, hoping that no one is looking at