PAST

He told me to sit taller, look softer, keep my mouth shut, and smile.

Clearly, he forgot who his daughter was. I never shut the hell up. My mouth was a pistol, my tongue a silver bullet. I wasn’t particularly good at aimin, but I could aim just fine when backed into a corner.

It wasn’t the best trait to have, but it’d come in handy quite a few times.

I figured this’d be one of em.

“I’m not marryin this man.” I cut right into the conversation, no holds barred.

The room grew so quiet you could hear the leaves swaying on our golden wattle tree in the front yard. My ma shot me a warning look, which I ignored.

“Arlen,” Dad chastised.

“You told me she understood,” Rodrick, the groom in question, sighed.

“I understand just fine, Dick. I’m not marryin you. How about findin a woman closer to your own age?”

See, I thought this was a great suggestion. Dick didn’t. He scoffed, but couldn’t open his mouth to dispute me. At thirty-nine, Rodrick (Dick) was a fairly attractive man, with swoopy blonde hair and money green eyes.

He was also two decades older than me, and the furthest thing from my type. I didn’t really have a type, actually, but if I did, it wasn’t a man in a suit who ate garlic bread with a fork.

That wasn’t normal.

My ma rubbed her brow, diverting her gaze as if I’d just sat the weight of the whole damn world on her over-privileged shoulders.

“Why don’t we move this discussion into the den?” Dad was already standing to do just that before Rodrick could agree or disagree, shooting me a scathing glare that spoke volumes.

Dad didn’t hit; he used words. He told me I’d be no good to anyone bruised up and skittish, so he would break me in another way, like I was a damn colt or somethin. I could tell the last thing Dick wanted to do was go off and have a conversation with him, but he followed regardless.

They left behind their pipin hot lasagna. I wanted to yell after them that there were families who would (literally) strip the tanned flesh from their bodies for the same indulgence.

Hell, some families would eat it, too.

“Arlen, you cannot ruin this deal,” Ma hissed the second she heard the door click shut. I whipped back around and shook my head at her.

I studied her from across the table and frowned. She was always so put together. I didn’t understand how she could wear those long thin heels all hours of the day, every day. And she never let her hair down. I wish she laughed like she used to. She’d changed so much over the years. Her main goal was being the best wife–the best cook–and the best hostess.

She forgot how to be my mother.

The opinions of strangers held too much weight in this household. I learned to quit caring long ago. I didn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone thought of me. Ma had been like that once, but now she was stuck.

I could grab her by the shoulders and preach about old times till I was blue in the face; I knew it wouldn’t change a thing.

“You hear what you just said? A deal, Momma. You want my marriage to be a deal?”

“Sweetheart, she’s gone now, and it’s important to maintain a healthy working relationship between your father and Rodrick.”

“You mean Be—”

“You know you’re not to say that name,” she interjected.

“Beth. Her name is Beth, and she’s your daughter.”

“Was my daughter, until she brought shame on this family by running off like some hoodlum in the middle of the night. It’s only natural the responsibility move to you.

“Rodrick wants to ensure he has an in with the wealthiest family in Centriole before he agrees to your father’s terms. You know how hard he works to hold his position.”

I had to refrain from rollin my eyes. I’d heard the ‘dad works hard speech’ so many times I could recite it in my sleep.

What he did that was so strenuous was beyond my understanding.

Seemed to me he got dressed up every day just to sit on his ass and make phone calls so everyone else had to work for a livin.

Attempting to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, I grunted when I remembered it was already pinned back in some extra fancy hairdo Ma insisted on.

“Maybe you should tell me what this big deal is, if it’s that important.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

What was with all the secrecy?

“I’m not sure if this is the part where I say we’re ahead of such times, or times are chagin, since no one around here seems inclined to give me a history lesson.”

She sighed—dramatically, I might add—but I still didn’t get any real explanation. I never did.

“Dick’s meant to be marryin my sister. That’s probably why she left in the first place. It don’t matter now though, does it? Ya’ll won’t give me the option of makin my own choices”

When she let out her signature musical laugh, I knew exactly where this conversation was goin.

“Your choices have resulted in all those tattoos covering your body in a poor attempt to rebel, screwing the pool boy, and failing every aspect of etiquette—your speech, especially.”

There was no reasoning with this woman. I was tired of wastin my time trying to explain who I was to someone committed to misunderstanding me.

How many times did I have to tell her the ink on my body was art? That the pool boy had an actual name, and was my first of everything.

“You keep trying to change me into everything he hates.”

Her swallow was audible, and suddenly she had a bit of invisible lint on her skirt.

The he in question was another subject I was not to discuss—a lesson drilled into my skull from the time I was nine years old.

“You could be happy,” she solemnly deflected.

I huffed in defeat. We always ended up back at this, forever talking in circles.

“Where are you going?” she asked as I pushed away from the table and stood up.

“Goin to wash this gunk off my face, and then I’m goin to bed.”

“Your father will want to speak with you.”

She knew full well I wasn’t going to wait around for that conversation.

I made my way to my room and, once inside, immediately headed for the bathroom.

I laughed at my reflection the second I saw it. I looked like a walking scuff mark.

Ma had wanted to hide some of my tattoos and lathered me in some sort of cover up. It was a hot mess, and extra pointless.

I’d been the subject of gossip and ridicule for years. Everyone in this judgmental city knew I was inked.

I removed the pins from my hair and ran my fingers through the long wavy strands to give it back some life. The few lighter highlights I’d been permitted to have boldly contrasted with the natural dark brown.

Letting the hideously dull teacup dress billow to the bathroom floor, I took a quick shower, and threw on my plaid pajama shorts and an old metal t-shirt, instantly feeling much more like myself.

After shutting the lights off, I turned the lever on the window to let some fresh air in, and settled beneath my abstract comforter. I rolled onto my side, and stared out at the pretty night sky, where the moon sat by her lonesome.

Our backyard seemed to stretch on forever, ending where a solid brick wall wrapped around Centriole as a whole began.

I felt trapped here in every way. I knew Ma loved me, and I liked to imagine Dad did too, but they would never accept me as I was.

It hurt that I couldn’t be what they needed, and it hurt I couldn’t be what I wanted. I was fed and watered daily, but something told me there was more to life than this. My cage may have had bars of gleaming gold, but it was still a cage.

Many referred to this place as The Kingdom, a utopia of sorts. I could understand why, but that’s not how I saw it.

Our grass was lime green, the water was a shimmering blue, our stores were stocked with food, and people could safely go for walks in the middle of the night, knowing the wall was constantly being patrolled. You could even score some happy pills, if that was your thing.

On the other side of the wall was the affront to my morbid curiosity.

The Badlands: a prettied up hostile desert wasteland.

The pinkish plains were home to various gangs of undesirables and an enclave of cannibals.

I suppose that was the purpose of the wall in the first place: to keep ‘them’ out. The deviants and outliers: people deemed not good enough to live among us. Outcasts. Those rejected by society.

I couldn’t help wonderin how vastly different their lives was from mine, reckoning I was the only person in the whole city who wanted to know what life would be like outside that eyesore of a damn wall. It wasn’t like I’d never asked someone these questions neither. I had—many times. No one ever gave me a real answer. Just like ma wouldn’t share any knowledge of history with me.

Thinkin of the loaded up duffel bag stowed beneath my bed, I knew I’d be leavin this place behind sooner than later, and Ma and dad ain’t have the slightest clue. Nobody did but the man that shared my secret with me.

My reputation has never preceded me.

To anyone outside looking in, I was Arlen Prosner—spoiled rich bitch that did everything her daddy told her.

None of that was remotely true.

That girl would have never considered her uncle’s whispered offer to leave The Kingdom in two weeks time.

I knew once we left, we wasn’t goin ever return. Coming back meant going through a lengthy process, and most were immediately shot or turned away. There were two ways in and out of the city, both heavily guarded. No one was forced to stay in, but once you got beyond a certain point…that was it.

There were even signs posted; I’d memorized them by heart.

Warning: Beyond this fence is no longer the territory of Centriole. Thereafter no person within the territory beyond this fence is a resident of our city or shall be acknowledged, recognized, or protected by the governing body therein.

You are now entering the Badlands.

Good luck.

It was debatable if the ‘good luck’ was genuine or not, but I had questions, a wayward sister, burnin curiosity, and an itch to break free.

Even knowing what was out there, how dangerous and foolish the choice would seem to anyone else, I was goin.

When I looked at the Badlands from the comfort of my bedroom, I didn’t see mutilated bodies or a war brewin between two powerful men.

What I saw was the lack of a wall, freedom from a life of being a Stepford wife, and popping out babies for a man twice my age.

I didn’t see how damn naïve I was.

I didn’t see myself befriending a tiny blonde who was a full blown psycho beneath her flawless exterior. I never foresaw the path my life would take from that day forward.

I made a life changin decision, and I ain’t have the foresight to see how drastic it would be.

I could have never foreseen all the ways I was goin to suffer on a precipice of insanity, before death finally gave me peace.