Preview!

I announced a couple of days ago that I wrote a book.

Shocker, right?

Well, I'm here to give a little preview.

The entire book will be available for purchase this week as an ebook. I'm still working out the details, but I will gladly post them as soon as I do.

The Acquisition tells the story of Emma Bauer, a young girl living in a dystopia America, who will soon be classified as either Endorsed or Sterile. The Endorsed are those pretty enough, smart enough, and strong enough to lead a privileged life in the Harvest. Those that aren't are classified as Sterile and will literally be sterilized on their eighteenth birthday to prevent their compromising genes from ever reproducing. How else can a perfect race be born? Emma's classification isn't shocking to her, but the life of lies, deceit, love, and murder that follows is. The beginning of her story is below.

Enjoy!

The Acquisition

Emily Mitchell

Copyright (c) 2012

Chapter 1: Last Day

            Today, I will lose everything.

            Today, I will say goodbye to the people I used to love. I don’t know if I will ever see them again, but I know they won’t miss me.

            Today, Emma Bauer will cease to exist.

Chapter 2: Preparation

            I slouched down further into the tub so the lukewarm water tickled the bottom of my ears. If I just slipped a few inches lower, and braved myself to stay below the surface, I could end it all. How it easy it would be.

            But of course I never would. Death was not the solution. I just didn’t know what the solution was.

            “Emma, you better be out of that tub in two minutes or else!” Margaret shouted forcefully while banging on the bathroom door.

            There was always an else. I never knew what it was, but the else was always the alternative. My life as I knew it was going to end today. The least she could do was let me soak in the tub a few more minutes. My toes weren’t even wrinkled.

            But that was my mother for you. Always a schedule to follow. Rules to abide by. Appearances to make. She may have given birth to me, but she was no longer my mother. She was Margaret, the woman I lived with.

            I didn’t always feel that way. In fact, for the first twelve years of my life, I loved that woman more than anyone in the world. She was my best friend. I never doubted she loved me. Then, I got sick. Really sick. And suddenly she didn’t seem to care. Neither did Benton, my father for all intents and purposes.

            I slowly slipped further into the bath until it was to my nose. My hair fanned out under the water, blanketing my freckled shoulders. I felt safe here. Nothing could get to me.

            “Emma, I swear on all that’s holy, I will beat this door down if I have to!”

            Except her.

            Fine. I wanted to scream. Did she not realize what was happening today? Did she not realize she’d probably never see me again? Or if she did see me again, that I wouldn’t be her daughter? She had to. She had to know what my fate was. The only conclusion I could come to was simple but utterly terrifying.

            My mother absolutely did not care.

            I hated her.

            I exaggerated standing up, splashing water around, making loud grunting noises as I stood. I wanted her to know I was obeying her command, like always, without saying a word. I yanked the stopper from the drain and felt the water level fall on my legs as I stared at my skeletal reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were sunken in, my clavicles were protruding from my shoulders, and my ribs could be seen without sucking in my non-existent gut.

            I was as pale as this white, sterile bathroom. I could relate to it. I would be sterile soon enough too.

            My body still hadn’t fully recovered from my illness. I hadn’t gained but a couple of pounds back, and my face still lacked some color. As far as I knew, I was cancer-free, even though I was still feeling the effects of the medicine. A cure for cancer had been found just in the last decade or so, but the treatment was severe. The doctors warned my parents and me that the treatment would work, but it would require months of rehabilitation. My body would need time to heal. It had been four months since I was first pronounced cancer-free, and I was still healing.

            Though, all things considered, I was a beauty queen compared to what I was then.

            When I was twelve, I fell out of a tree and hit my head on an exposed root. I don’t remember it bleeding much, but I do remember having a knot the size of a peach on the base of my skull. When the doctors did a head scan to look for internal swelling or bleeding, they found a tumor instead.

            As if that wasn’t devastating enough, that was the day my parents decided not to love me.

            Sure, they took me to my treatments, my appointments. They provided home-health care and designed a comfortable new bedroom to give me a place to escape. But I never got as much comfort from a silk blanket and top-of-the-line computer monitors as I would have from my parents’ company. I rarely saw them. They parented vicariously through other people – servants, nurses, teachers, or whoever else was there to do their job.

            When I tried to ask them why they ignored me, they thought I was crazy. They said I was being selfish for asking them to be with me instead of going to dinner with their friends, attending seminars on the weekends, or whatever else they opted to do.

            Maybe if that was always how things were I wouldn’t have noticed their absence so much. Before I was diagnosed, I was a very happy child. My parents seemed to adore me. We always did things together – go to the park, make homemade ice cream, or play games. I loved my life. I would never have thought my parents capable of such treachery, especially within the walls of our home.

            But here’s the thing. My little brother Jackson? He’s fine. Wonderful. My parents love him, always have. He was always healthy. So what about my illness justified their betrayal?

            I asked myself that question every day. Three years after my diagnosis, I was just as clueless as I was then.

            I stepped out of the tub onto the white shag rug lying on the white marble floors. I wrapped the towel around my bony body and took one last look in the mirror.

            I knew my life was going to change forever today, and even though my life now was pitiful, I didn’t want to leave it. A known danger is better than an unknown, and once I walked out the door, I would never be myself again.

            In just a few hours, I would be judged in front of hundreds. I already knew they would classify me as Sterile, which meant I would be surgically altered so I couldn’t have children one day. Weak people, ugly people, dumb people – we weren’t allowed to live as the Harvest did. The Harvest was reserved for pretty people, strong people, smart people.

            And even if I was pretty, or strong, or smart, it wouldn’t matter. I had cancer. There was no way they would Endorse me. How could the Harvest create the perfect people if one of them had cancer?

            I knew in my heart I wouldn’t make it, but that didn’t make me any less scared.

My thoughts got the best of me. I fell to the ground and leaned against the door, sobs pouring from my eyes in thick streams, gasps sputtering from my heavy chest. I was terrified. What could I do to avoid this? Surely there had to be a way. But it was inevitable. I could try to run, but I didn’t know how to survive in the Outer Perimeter. I would get caught and thrown into prison. It was better to be in the Barren than in prison. Only an idiot would think otherwise.

            I heard a much softer knock on the door than I heard before. “Emma? Are you…” Margaret paused, as if debating what to say. I instantly quieted and wiped my tears away. I would not give her the satisfaction of sensing my immense fear. “You’re needed in the dressing room.”

            I could hear the click of her stilettos as she walked away. I wanted to believe I heard an ounce of remorse or regret in her tone, but I couldn’t afford to think I had. It would hurt far too much when I realized I hadn’t.

            I composed myself enough to walk to the dressing room. Margaret hired a stylist to help me prepare for the Acquisition, also known as judgment day.

            My hair, now partially dry, hung loosely against my back. Dull, stringy brown strands hung lifelessly below my shoulder blades. When Margaret told me she hired a stylist, I knew it was a waste of money. There was nothing the stylist could do to make myself presentable enough to be considered an Endorsed.  I would be classified as Sterile, so what was the point of this?

            “And you must be Miss Emma?” a high-pitched, rather annoying voice squealed as I walked in, my naked body still wrapped in nothing but a towel.

            “You’re the stylist?” She looked my age, dressed in a red and white polka dot mini skirt, black boots, and black turtleneck sweater. Her white-blonde hair was pulled high on top of her head in a straight ponytail. Her skin was as white as mine, as most Endorsed individuals were, colored with apple-red lipstick and black eyeliner.

            “One of the best. My name is Missy. Would you look at that bone structure?” She firmly grabbed my chin and roughly turned my head from side to side, examining every square inch of my face. “There’s no doubt in my mind you’ll be classified as Endorsed when I’m through with you. Here, take this.”

            She threw a robe, white of course, at me and pointed to a collapsible partition just behind her. I started for the partition, but apparently she didn’t realize there was a mirror in front of me. It made it possible for me to see her horrified expression at my bony shoulders and her frustrated eye roll at my lack of beauty. Even she knew I was an impossible case.

            “Emma? You’re here.”

            “Mrs. Bauer!” Missy’s voice rang octaves higher than I thought humanly possible. All dogs in the neighborhood probably had perked ears. “She’s just through here, putting on her robe. I know exactly what to do.”

            She continued to rant to my mother about the supposed unbelievable transformation that was about to take place. I wanted to sneak a peek at Margaret’s face, but I was too scared of what I’d see. Probably pure satisfaction at knowing that today would be my last day under her roof.

            Despite three years of ignorance, I would still be crushed.

            I threw my wet towel on the floor, not caring if it got forgotten and left to mold, and slipped on the robe.

            “Her attire is in the dress bag. I thought ice blue would look ravishing. It is January after all, so nothing too warm, and with her brown hair and brown eyes, I thought it would be a nice contrast.”

            I stepped around the partition to meet my doom. I looked boldly at my mother. I didn’t want her to know what I was really feeling. She glanced back at me briefly before looking down at the floor. “Well, then. It sounds like you are all set. If you’ll excuse me.” She nodded at Missy and left.

            “Alright. Let’s get started.”

            An hour later, I sat awestruck in the chair. My hair was curled into tight ringlets and pinned back with diamond studded clips. My face was covered in expensive make-up, creating a lively, energetic look I hadn’t seen in years. I had rosy cheeks, baby blue eye shadow, and glitter in strategic places that made my face glow. My rose-colored lips smiled. I actually looked beautiful.

             My smile faded as I realized what, or rather who, I looked like. My mother.

            It was only a sad reminder of the person I would lose forever. Although, truth be told, I lost her a long time ago.

            “And now for the piece de resistance.” She unzipped the gray dress bag hanging on the wall. A soft blue gown shone through, sparkles catching the light, throwing rainbows in every direction.

            “That’s for me?”

            “Of course. I don’t do things half-way.”

            I stood still with my hands over my head as Missy slipped the dress on over my head. The dress was fitted at the waist and hung to my feet. It was high-necked, but it only had one strap, leaving my left shoulder bare for all to see my bony protrusions. Naturally, the bust was much too large.

            Sensing my despair, Missy continued. “Have no fear. Emma, meet your new best friends.” She held two rubber cups in her hands. It didn’t take long before I realized what she was going to do.

            “Are you serious?” I stepped back in response. She wasn’t going there.

            “Look, it’ll help the dress fit better.”

            “I’ll look like a freak. A twig with boobs. Nope. Not happening.”    

            “Yes, it is happening, so quit your belly-aching and get over here.”

            “Not on your life.” I backed up, searching the room for an excuse to leave. She guarded the door. I wasn’t going to get out no matter how hard I tried.

            “Listen, I get it. You want to be perfect just the way you are,” she started.

            No, that wasn’t it at all.

            “But if you want to be Endorsed, you have to make yourself perfect. They will be looking for every flaw, every negative thing about you. They are looking for reasons why you won’t be good enough. You can’t give them a single excuse, do you understand? Not one, as superficial as it is.”

            “So you admit I’m flawed. Gee, thanks.”

            “No, that’s not what I meant and you know it.” For such a peppy young blonde, she certainly was snarky.

            She sighed heavily and her face softened. “I don’t tell many people this, but I have a soft spot for contestants in the Acquisition. I was thirteen when my brother, my absolute best friend, was chosen to be sterilized. It was the worst day of my life. I actually wished I would be classified the same when my day came just so I could see him again. Obviously I wasn’t, but I’ll never forget how I felt that day. I don’t want you or your family to go through what I did.”

            I took a step forward without realizing it. “What happened to your brother?”

            She twisted her face at me, her eyes tormented, and then looked back at the comb in her hands. “I don’t know.”

            Little did she know, my parents were probably counting down the minutes until I left.

            “But I do know that it’s the suckiest feeling in the world. I vowed to do all I could to help people stay in the Harvest, to stay together as a family. That’s why I became a stylist. I could make people beautiful, so they could stay.”

            I knew she was right. To be Endorsed, I needed to be exactly what they wanted me to be, which was physically perfect. A fifteen, almost sixteen-year-old girl, should be more endowed in the chest region than I was, which was preferable for child-bearing. I knew that, but still.

            I caved. “At least let me put them in.”

            “That’s my girl.”

            I whipped my head back up. I was not her girl. I wasn’t anyone’s girl.