The nightmare and reminder of what happened when I was twelve made returning to sleep impossible. Why can't all my traumatic events be forgotten and only the happy ones remain? Life would be a lot easier if all my memories were of enjoyable times only.

My hand drifts across the shelves of books and settles on a small grey cover. I pull it out and run my hands along the silver letters then flick through the pages as I'm reminded of a special night from not so long ago. A night full of enjoyable firsts which when remembered should fill me with excitement but instead stabs me in the gut like a sharp knife.

"Good choice you've made. It may not be a classic but what makes it special is the fact it was compiled, printed and distributed under the rule of The State not so long along. Have you read it before?" Imani's voice startles me from the doorway. Holding a cup of tea, she walks over to her desk and sits down in the seat.

"Some one I knew read me one of the poems," I say quietly.

"Take it. I have plenty of contraband books, one less is hardly a bad thing." Imani waves her hands towards the book I'm holding.

My fingers caress the cover one last time before placing it back on the shelf. I need to start letting go. "Thanks, but I'm not a big reader."

"'A person who won't read has no advantage over one who can't read', a quote by Mark Twain. He was a writer in the late eighteen hundreds."

"It's nice to know I'm not inferior to people who refuse to read then, literary speaking anyway," I say turning to face her.

Imani splutters, liquid spills over the rim of her cup onto her hand and she hisses in pain.

"Sorry, I didn't realise," She says placing the cup on the desk. She wipes at the wet patch across the front of her robe. "Is there a reason why you can't read?"

"I was never taught." Gesturing at the room which is comprised of four walls filled from the floor to ceiling books, I ask, "So how much of this is contraband?"

"Depends how you look at it. In The State's eyes approximately a half. In my eyes I would say about a three quarters."

"How does that work?" I ask intrigued.

"Well the half is comprised of old and new literature which The State has banned, so it's definitely contraband. The extra quarter which I would include was produced for The State, by people like me, which on face value is acceptable reading but if you dissect it a little more, you'll see the underlining morals and values taught go against The State." Imani walks over to a shelf and pulls out a slim book. "For example 'The Paws.'"

She waves the book in my direction, sits back at her desk and gestures for me to join her. "It's a series of books about a family of dogs. On face value, each one is based around one of The State's key ideas and Fundamentals but look a little closer and you'll see they also oppose them."

I perch on the edge of the desk as she opens the book out. "For example, we never refer to the parents as mother and father or he and she, we gave them unisex names so they could be the same sex, different sex. They are always kind to others even those which are different to them and so on. It's all little things which are hardly noticeable but slowly they filter into the psyche and ensure we're not complete machines being feed only The State's narrow minded version of how we should be."

I flick through the pages, briefly looking at the pictures. It's true, without any context I wouldn't know whether they're male or female. In fact, based on only the pictures I don't really understand what the moral of this book is. I close the book and push it back towards her.

"There's lots of books like this, children and adult. Some I've written but there are a lot by others," Imani says, returning the book to it's correct place and sitting back at her desk. "My form of resistance is not as risky or as obvious as what some do, but I'm trying to make what difference I can. Lots of people are trying to make a change in their own way."

"There are so many people who are secretly against The State, I'm starting to wonder how they've managed to stay in power for so long," I say.

Imani smiles. "There are many who question certain aspects of The State but that does not mean they don't also support much of what they do. We may not agree with the execution of their aim but many still agree with what they are trying to achieve. I for one think the idea of a society which is pure and honest, free from deceit and worry is a beautiful concept in theory."

"Yes, it's fantastic living in fear of being punished for doing something wrong," I retort sarcastically

"The State would argue they only use fear as a method of control whilst the corrupt and immoral still exist, and that once these people have been eliminated, the use of punishments and hangings would also cease. We will then have reached the perfect society." Imani tilts back her chair to look up at me and I know she's assessing me, trying to figure me out.

"Are you sure you've chosen the correct side? You sound more like an advocate for The State than someone who wants to see them destroyed."

Imani laughs. "Just because I agree with elements of State ideology does not mean I wish them to continue in power. I agree, for example, on their emphasis on the family. I believe both parents should share responsibility of the house and the childcare. I don't believe both parents must be of the opposite sex and I don't believe people should continue to stay together if they are no longer happy in their marriage. I believe people should respect their bodies and should wait til they are ready before engaging in sexual activities yet I don't believe you must be married and I don't think you should force marriage on people by a certain age."

Imani takes a large gulp of her drink. "That's the problem; being good, moral and pure are subjective. My approach to what is wholesome and virtuous will be different to your version which will be different to the next. You can't force people to act how you believe they should. People should aspire and be encouraged to be better, to act better but that desire needs to partly come from us and not simply because we have been forced into it. Can someone really claim to be truly pure and virtuous if their only drive is fear of being punished?"

Imani smiles. "And sometimes what The State are trying to achieve goes against our human nature. We get angry, sad, jealous, sensual and bored. Some of us experience these emotions intensely, others not so. We should be taught how to deal with them, not be punished for them. We should have some freedom to make mistakes, to experience happiness, love and loss."

"I could do without the loss part to be honest." I shrug.

"It's hard but it builds you as a person. The loss you've experienced has made you who you are. You should be proud of what you've become. You are doing something big and not because you think you'll be rewarded at some later point but because you are simply willing to sacrifice yourself for the benefit of others, out of a sense of what is right."

I shake my head. "I think you've got me confused with one of your fictional characters from your books."

"No. I can see how much you care. You protect those around you, try to prevent harm being inflicted. I've seen it most in the way you deal with Max but also the way you treat the others. You thrive when you feel needed, your survival is linked to those around you who depend on you."

"I sound a bit pathetic when you say it like that," I joke.

"No, not at all. But you need to prepare yourself for once the fight to destroy The State is over. Because at the end of this, no matter what the outcome is, there's a strong possibility all those who you are currently living for and fighting for may no longer be around."

"What makes you think I'll survive?"

"You may or may not. Just make sure you don't not survive because no one you care for has." Imani picks a pair of spectacles up and puts them on, shuffling the papers in front of her she says, "I should get on. This is the time I produce my best work. There's something about the dead of night which makes me more daring, it's when I get my best ideas of books or as my husband would refer to them, my reckless ideas."

"Can I sit on the couch? I'll be quiet," I say, not wanting to return upstairs. Something about this room makes me feel comfortable almost safe.

"Of course. Help yourself to a blanket and and get comfortable. While you are here, my house is your house." Imani waves her hands without looking up.

I lay down on the couch, listening to the scribble of her pen against paper, her low rhythmic murmuring as she talks to herself and I start to think about a future where The State aren't in control. I try to imagine a different way of life in which I no longer have to hide. Is this what hope feels like?

Authors notes
I'm pumped up on coffee so rushing through these chapters. If there are any mistakes I apologise and please let me know! I'm writing this all on my phone Xx