Title:
BRANDED
Authors:
Abi Ketner & Missy Kalicicki
Genre:
Mature Young Adult - Dystopian
Release date: TBD
Description
Twenty years ago the Commander came into power and murdered all who opposed him.
In his warped mind, the seven deadly sins were the downfall of society. He
created the Hole where sinners are branded according to their sins and might
survive a few years. At best.
Now LUST wraps around my neck like blue fingers strangling me. I’ve been
accused of a crime I didn’t commit and now the Hole is my new home.
Darkness. Death. Violence. Pain.
Now every day is a fight for survival. But I won’t die. I won’t let them win.
The Hole can’t keep me. The Hole can’t break me.
I am more than my brand. I’m a fighter.
My name is Lexi Hamilton, and this is my story.
Biographies:
Abi Ketner
Is a registered nurse with a passion for novels, the beaches of St. John, and
her Philadelphia Phillies. A talented singer, Abi loves to go running and
spend lots of time with her family. She currently resides in Lancaster,
Pennsylvania with her husband, triplet daughters and two very spoiled dogs.
Melissa Kalicicki received her bachelor’s degree from Millersville University
in 2003. She married, had two boys and currently lives in Lancaster,
Pennsylvania. Aside from reading and writing, her interests include running and
mixed martial arts. She also remains an avid Cleveland sports fan.
Abi and Missy met in the summer of 1999 at college orientation and have been
best friends ever since. After college, they added jobs, husbands and kids to
their lives, but they still found time for their friendship. Instead of hanging
out on weekends, they went to dinner once a month and reviewed books. What
started out as an enjoyable hobby has now become an incredible adventure.
Where to find Abi and Missy
Enjoy this first chapter of BRANDED
Chapter
One
I’m
buried six feet under, and no one hears my screams.
The
rope chafes as I loop it around my neck. I pull down on it, making sure the
knot is secure. It seems sturdy enough.
My
legs shake. My heart beats heavy in my throat. Sweat pours down my back.
Death
and I glare at each other through my tears.
I
take one last look at the crystal chandelier, the foyer outlined with mirrors,
and the flawless decorations. No photographs adorn the walls. No happy memories
here.
I’m
ready to go. On the count of three.
I
inhale, preparing myself for the finality of it all. Dropping my hands, a
glimmer catches my eye. It’s my ring, the last precious gift my father gave me.
I twist it around to read the inscription. Picturing his face forces me to
reconsider my choice. He’d be heartbroken if he could see me now.
A
door slams in the hallway, almost causing me to lose my balance. My thoughts
already muddled, I stand, waiting with the rope around my neck. Voices I don’t
recognize creep through the walls.
Curiosity
overshadows my current thoughts. It’s late at night, and this is a secure
building in High Society. No one disturbs the peace here—ever. I tug on the
noose and pull it back over my head.
Peering
through the eyehole in our doorway, I see a large group of armed guards banging
on my neighbors’ door. A heated conversation ensues, and my neighbors point
toward my family’s home.
It
hits me. I’ve been accused and they’re here to arrest me.
My
father would want me to run, and in that split second, I decide to listen to
his voice within me. Flinging myself forward in fear, I scramble up the marble
staircase and into my brother’s old bedroom. The door is partially covered, but
it exists. Pushing his dresser aside, my fingers claw at the opening. Breathing
hard, I lodge myself against it. Nothing. I step back and kick it with all my
strength. The wood splinters open, and my foot gets caught. I wrench it
backward, scraping my calf, but adrenaline pushes me forward. The voices at the
front door shout my name.
On hands and knees, I squeeze through the
jagged opening. My brother left through this passage, and now it’s my escape
too. Cobwebs entangle my face, hands, and hair. At the end, I feel for the
knob, twisting it clockwise. It swings open, creaking from disuse. I sprint
into the hallway and smash through the large fire escape doors at the end. A
burst of cool air strikes me in the face as I jump down the ladder.
Reaching
the fifth floor, I knock on a friend’s window. The lights flicker on, and I see
the curtains move, but no one answers. I bang on the window harder.
“Let
me in! Please!” I say, but the lights darken. They know I’ve been accused and
refuse to help me. Fear and adrenaline rush through my veins as I keep running,
knocking on more windows along the way. No one has mercy. They all know what
happens to sinners.
Another
flight of stairs passes in a blur when I hear the guards’ heavy footfalls from
above. I can’t hide, but I don’t want to go without trying.
Help
me, Daddy. I need your strength now.
My previous
desolation evolves into a will to survive. I have to keep running, but I tremble and gasp for air. I
steel my nerves and force my body to keep moving. In a matter of minutes, my
legs cramp and my chest burns. I plunge to the ground, scraping my knee and
elbow. A moan escapes from my chest.
Gotta keep going.
“Stop!” Their voices bounce off the
buildings. “Lexi Hamilton, surrender yourself,” they command. They’re gaining
on me.
I resist the urge to glance back, running
into what I assume is an alley. I’m far from our high-rise in High Society as I
plunge into a poorer section of the city where the streets all look the same
and the darkness prevents me from recognizing anything. I’m lost.
My
first instinct is to leap into a dumpster, but I retain enough sense to stay
still. I crouch and peek around it, watching them dash by. The abhorrent smell soon
leaves me vomiting until nothing remains in my stomach. Desperation overtakes
me, as I know my retching was anything but silent. My last few seconds tick
away before they find me. Everyone knows about their special means of tracking
sinners.
I push myself to my feet and look left,
right, and left again. Their batons click against their black, leather belts,
and their boots stomp the cement on both sides of me. I shrink into myself.
Their heavy steps mock my fear, growing closer and closer until I know I’m
trapped.
Never did I imagine they’d come for me.
Never did I imagine all those nights I heard them dragging someone else away
that I’d join them.
“You’re a sinner,” they say. “Time to
leave our society.”
I stand defiant. I refuse to bend or
break before them even as I shiver with fear.
“There’s no reason to make this
difficult. The more you cooperate, the smoother this will be for everyone,” a
guard says.
I cringe into the blackness along the
wall. I’m innocent, but they won’t believe me or care.
The next instant, my face slams into the
pavement as one guard plants a knee in my back and another handcuffs me. A warm
liquid trails into my mouth. Blood. Their fingers grip my arms like steel traps
as they peel me off the cement. The tops of my shoes scrape along the ground as
I’m dragged behind them until they discard me into the back of a black vehicle.
The doors slam in unison with one guard stationed on each side of me, my
shoulders digging into their arms. The handcuffs dig into my wrists, so I clasp
them together hard behind me and press my back into the seat, unwilling to
admit how much it hurts. My dignity is all I have left.
Swallowing hard, I stare ahead to avoid
their eyes.
Did they need so many guards to capture
me?
I’m not carrying any weapons, nor do I own
any. I don’t even know self-defense. High Society frowns on activities like
that.
The driver jerks the vehicle around and I
try to keep my bearings, but it’s dark and the scenery changes too fast. Hours
pass and the air grows warmer, more humid, the farther we drive. The landscape
mutates from city to rolling hills. They don’t bother blindfolding me because
they escort all the sinners to the same place—the Hole. Twenty-foot cement
walls encase the chaos within. There’s no way out and no way in unless they
transport you. They say the Hole is a prison with no rules. We learned about it
last year in twelfth grade.
To
the outside, I’m filth now. I’ll never be allowed to return to the life I knew.
No one ever does.
“All sinners go through a
transformation,” one of the guards says to me. His smirk infuriates me. “I’m
sure you’ve heard all kinds of stories.” I don’t respond. I don’t want to think
about the things I’ve been told.
“You won’t last too long, though. Young
girls like you get eaten alive.” He pulls a strand of my hair up to his face.
Get
your hands off me, you pig. I want to lash out, but resist. The punishment
for disobeying authority is severe, and I’m not positioned to defy him.
They’re
the Guards of the Commander. They’re chosen from a young age and trained in
combat. They keep the order of society by using violent methods of
intimidation. No one befriends a guard. Relationships with them are forbidden
inside the Hole.
Few have seen the commander. His identity
stays under lock and key. His own paranoia and desire to stay pure drove him to
live this way. He controls our depraved society and believes sinners make the
human race unforgivable. His power is a crushing fist, rendering all beneath
him helpless. So much so, even family members turn on each other when an
accusation surfaces. Just an accusation. No trial, no evidence, nothing but an
accusation.
I lose myself in thoughts of my father.
“Never show fear, Lexi,” my father said
to me before he was taken. “They’ll use it against you.” His compassionate eyes
filled with warning as he commanded me to be strong. That was many years ago,
but I remember it clearly. My father. My rock. The one person in my life who
provided unconditional love.
The vehicle stops, and I’m jerked back to
reality. “Get out,” the guard orders while pulling me to my feet. The doors
slide open and the two guards lift me up and out into the night. A windowless
cement building looms in front of us, looking barren in the darkness.
The coolness of
the air sends a shiver up my spine. This is really happening. I’ve been labeled
a sinner. My lip starts to quiver, but I bite it before anyone sees. They shove
me in line and I realize I’m not alone. Women and men stand with faces frozen
white in fear. A guard grabs my finger, pricks it, and dabs my blood on a tiny
microchip.
I
follow the man in front of me into the next room where we’re lined up facing
the wall. Glancing right, I see one of the men crying.
“Spread your legs,” one of the guards
says.
They remove my outer layers and their
hands roam up and down my body.
What do they think I could possibly be
hiding? I press my head
into the wall, trying to block out what they’re doing to me.
“MOVE!” a guard commands. So I shuffle
across the room, trying to cover up.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five of us sit in the holding room. One
by one, they pull people into the next room, forcing the rest of us to wonder
what torture we’ll endure. An agonizing amount of time passes. I lean my head
back and try to imagine a place far away. The door opens.
“Lexi Hamilton.”
A guard escorts me out of the room, and I
don’t have time to look back. As soon as the door closes, they pick me up and place
me on a table. It’s cold and my skin sticks to it slightly, like wet fingers on
an ice cube. Then, they exit in procession, and I lie on the table with a
doctor standing over me. His hands are busy as he speaks.
“Don’t move. This will only take a few minutes.
It’s time for you to be branded.”
A wet cloth that smells like rubbing
alcohol is used to clean my skin. Then he places a metal collar around my neck.
Click. Click. Click.
The collar locks into place, and I
struggle to breathe. The doctor loosens it some as I focus on the painted black
words above me.
The
Seven Deadly Sins:
Lust ¾
Blue
Gluttony ¾
Orange
Greed ¾
Yellow
Sloth ¾
Light Blue
Wrath ¾
Red
Envy ¾
Green
Pride ¾
Purple
“Memorize it. Might keep you alive longer if
you know who to stay away from.” He opens my mouth, placing a bit inside. “Bite
this.”
Within seconds, the collar heats from hot
to scorching. The smell of flesh sizzling makes my head spin. I bite down so
hard a tooth cracks.
“GRRRRRRRRR,” escapes from deep within my
chest. Just when I’m about to pass out, the temperature drops, and the doctor
loosens the collar.
He removes it and sits me up.
Excruciating pain rips through me and I’m on the verge of a mental and physical
breakdown. Focus. Don’t pass out.
Stainless steel counters and boring white
walls press in on me. A guard laughs at me from an observation room above and
yells, “Blue. It’s a great color for a pretty young thing like yourself.” His
eyes dance with suggestion. The others meander around like it’s business as usual.
I finally find my voice and turn to the
doctor.
“Are you going to give me clothes?” A
burning pain spreads like fire from my neck to my jaw, making me wince.
He points to a set of folded grey scrubs
on a chair. I cover myself as much as I can and scurry sideways.
Grabbing my new clothes, I pull the shirt over my head and try to avoid the raw
meat around my throat. I quickly knot the cord of my pants around my waist and
slide my feet into the hospital-issue slippers as the doctor observes. He hands
me a bag labeled with my name.
“Nothing is allowed through the door but
what we’ve given you,” he says.
I hide my right hand behind me, hoping no
one notices. A guard scans my body and opens his hand.
“Give it to me,” he says. “Don’t make me
rip off your finger.” He crouches down and I turn to stone. I don’t know what
to do, so I beg.
“My father gave this to me. Please, let me
keep it.” I smash my eyes shut and think of the moment my father handed the
golden ring to me.
“It
was my mother’s ring,” he’d said. “She’s the strongest woman I ever knew.” With
tears in his eyes, he reached for my hand. “Lexi, you’re exactly like her.
She’d want you to wear this. No matter how this world changes, you can
survive.” I turned the gold band over in my palm and read the engraving.
You can overcome anything… short of death.
“You’re going to take the one thing that
matters the most to me?” I say, glaring into the guard’s emotionless eyes.
“Isn’t it enough taking my life, dignity, and respect?”
A hard blow falls upon my back. As I
fall, my hands shoot out to stop me from smashing into the wall in front of me.
The guard bends down and grabs my chin with his meaty fist.
“Look at me,” he commands. I look up and he smiles with arrogance.
“What the hell?” He staggers a step backward.
“What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with your eyes?”
“Nothing,” I respond, confused.
“What color are they?”
“Turquoise.” I glower at him.
“Interesting,” he says, regaining his
composure. “Now those’ll get you in trouble.”
Reality slaps me across the face. I have
my father’s eyes. They can't take them from me. I twist the ring off my finger
and drop it in his hand.
“Take the damn ring,” I say. I walk to
the door. He swipes a card and the massive door slides open to the outside.
“You have to wear your hair back at all
times, so everyone knows what you are.” He hands me a tie, so I pull my frizzy
hair away from my face and secure it into a ponytail. My neck burns and itches
as my hand traces the scabs that have already begun to form. Squinting ahead into
the darkness, I almost run into a guard standing on the sidewalk.
“Watch where you’re going,” he says, shoving
me backward. His stiff figure stands tall and I cringe at the sharpness of his
voice.
“Cole, this is your new assignment, Lexi
Hamilton. See to it she feels welcome in her new home.” The guard departs with
a salute.
“Let’s move,” Cole says.
I
take two steps and collapse, my knees giving out. The unforgiving pavement
reopens the scrapes from earlier and I struggle to stand. A powerful arm
snatches me up, and I see his face for the first time.
Thanks for
visiting and always …
