People gasp around us, and Amell's hand finds my arm. Lowering his lips to my ear, he whispers, "We need to go."

He pulls my arm, but I yank it back. "Wait, I want to listen."

The woman on the screen takes in a breath and continues, "The group call themselves Generation One, and on Tuesday night, they and their sympathizers broke past the Second Generation border and invaded a First Generation home."

Amell looks around with a cold expression on his face. His body rigid, and his eyes don't hold a drop of the familiar warmth or softness I am accustomed to. To no surprise, his voice matches his demeanour, "We need to get back before panic breaks."

"I need to know what the panic is about," I whisper with the sharpness of a knife. "Generation One is a rebellion whose motives I understand. What they do and why they do it is important."

"The death toll includes four unidentified Second Generation guards who were stationed at the manor." The news lady brushes her hair aside and looks directly into the camera, bracing herself, "And Mr. Hugh Flem."

Amell shakes his head and flips his helmet on. I follow his lead as people gasp and begin to call others on their cellphones.

"The suspects are still at large, and it is advised that all citizens remain in your homes with all entries and exits locked." The woman says and places her stack of papers in front of her. "May you all be safe during these uncertain times."

The screen goes dark, and the previous program continues to play. People all stare at the door with a foreboding look on their faces. I follow Amell out the door, who effortlessly hops onto his bike and starts it up. I climb on behind him and watch as the citizens pour out of stores and businesses, racing to their homes and families. The street becomes clogged with honking cars while Amell flies between them, people yelling at us as we do.

We finally escape the city and speed back to the Sanders home, winding through the forest before I decide to say anything.

"Who is Hugh Flem?" I ask, peering over his shoulder.

"He's a man with a lot of power." Amell sounds reserved and distant as if he doesn't want to say anything.

I shift away from him, my grip barely becoming a light touch. He clearly doesn't want to talk about it. I shouldn't pry.

Amell sighs and slows the motorcycle down a little, "You probably haven't heard of him because he came into his position within the last six months."

"What position?"

"The Chief Executive Officer of the Prenatal Development Sector."

"Oh my god..." I whisper, "Generation One killed the man in charge of creating life?"

"Appears to be the case." Amell accelerates again, and we fall back into our taciturnity.

They're going for the people with influence and power in society... the families of the First Generation. Mr. Sanders is involved with the armed forces. That must be why a few of the newest DEU members are training in his house. That's why Zale is here... and still not talking to me.

When we return to the manor, everything and everyone is rushing to different places. It is dark, and most of their shifts have already ended, but they are frantically moving around. To describe the state of the household as a chaotic disaster would be putting it lightly.

Amell pulls into the garage, and we take off our helmets.

"How- how has this information eluded the Third Generation for so long?" I ask and set the helmet down.

"We are very good at suppressing matters." Amell looks away, his brows furrow in anger, but his eyes are sympathetic. "The authorities must've thought that they could stamp out the spark before it turned into a flame. Clearly, that didn't happen."

"This probably got them the recognition they wanted." I slide the jacket off and hide it underneath my sweater. "I wonder if they'll get more supporters since the Third Generation will know they exist."

"They definitely will." Amell turns away from the bike and glances at me, "Elysia, this must be an uncomfortable position for you to be in. One hand, you have people who are like you and are fighting for you, and on the other, it's the people who took you in."

"You're right, but don't worry. Even though I feel sympathy for the cause, I can't agree with the methods used." Amell remains quiet as I walk to the door, "Amell." He looks up, and I rest my hand on the doorknob, "You know you can trust me. Right?"

"Of course, and you can trust me."

I smile and open the door, "I knew that since the day you saved my life." Closing the door behind me, I rush to find Winnie and help with what I can.

Part of me wishes that One Generation will find me and take me under their wing. I'd finally belong, I wouldn't need to hide my identity, and I wouldn't have to worry about being good enough. A place where being imperfect made you welcome, not turned away from society.

But the other part of me has fallen victim to the whispers of desire. To belong among the rich, powerful and beautiful. I will always wish to be perfect, but that will never be the case. I will be hunted and forced to hide for the rest of my life.

I am a disaster because my parents couldn't wait and wanted to keep me. If only you loved me less than I could be worthy of more love. If you didn't love me, then maybe I'd be loved by others. Instead, I'm hated and despised. If you'd let die, you'd be alive, but you sacrificed yourselves for a Defect. For a monster. Why?

Pa, if only you were here to help me understand. I wish you told me who they were, then maybe I could understand why.

₪ ₪ ₪

"You'll start training tomorrow with Amell." Leila's thumb brushes my vein on the inside of my arm, "We will alternate training you each day. Amell will focus on the physical aspect, and I'll be working with you and your powers." She rolling the blue vein under her fingertip, and holds the vile up.

"Why are we doing this again?" I ask, turning away from her.

"We need to understand why you have the abilities you do. Defects aren't typically born with the ability to sap the life out of living things." Leila wraps a tube around my arm, cutting off the circulation, "Are you ready?"

I nod and shut my eyes. Please get this over with. I hate needles.

I feel a prick in my arm, and Leila's hand squeeze mine, which I squeeze back. I relax when the pressure of the band is released. My eyes open when Leila presses a piece of cotton on the pinprick.

"Who'll be testing it?" I ask, staring at the scarlet liquid.

"I will be," Leila smiles, "I'm actually an apprentice to a prodigious scientist named is Kristen Henderson."

"Kristen Handerson?" I ask agape, "She was a Second Generation but was upgraded to a First since she suggested a new and inexpensive way to alter the genetic makeup of a fetus."

"That's her," Leila puts the vile in a holder and helps me stand up, "she was the first person to ever be moved from the Second Generation to the First. She also works alongside the DEU with tracking down Defects. A truly incredible woman, I'm lucky to be working with her."

I adjust my seat and look away. How could you be lucky working for someone who helps kill the Defects your family tries to save?

Leila must've noticed my discomfort because she brushes a piece of hair from my face. "Hey, just because I want to be as successful as her doesn't mean I want to be like her."

"I'm glad to hear you don't want to kill me." I retort and keep my eyes averted from hers.

"Elysia." Leila's hand brushes my cheek, and I peer up at her. Her long brown, curled hair frames her face perfectly, as would the frame for Mona Lisa. Each detail made for a reason, to emphasize the beauty created by man. "I would do anything to protect you. I care about you very, very much."

I smile and touch her hand against my cheek, "Thank you."

"Just promise you won't betray me." Leila chuckles and drags her hand away from mine, loathing in her hesitancy. "I trust you'll take good care of my heart."

"And I trust you'll take care of mine." I allow myself to relax and hold Leila's gaze for a moment longer. The way she looks at me makes me feel special and gives me butterflies that sprout from my stomach and travel throughout my body. It's a nice feeling.