The rich smell of earth fills my nostrils and all I hear is the roaring sound of white noise in the distance. My skin is clammy but everytime I breathe in its as if there's a desert in my lungs. The occasional drop of liquid enters my mouth and if not for the stinging metallic taste I wouldn't even recognize it as blood.

Placing my fingers over my lip I find the trail leads to a small gash on my forehead and I wince as my fingers brush grime into the wound. Small pebbles and other debris are nestled into my hair and as I comb it out with my other hand I feel loose scraps of paper clenched in my fist.

I don't remember how the paper  got there but as if opening a small door within my mind the memory becomes as apparent as if it belonged to me. The scraps of paper were torn from a small book which is now buried underneath an avalanche of boulders blocking the entrance from which I came. I'm not surprised though because it was intentional, after all I was the one who caused it. How I know this I don't quite get but I know that it was necessary. Just as it's necessary to escape from this dark cavern by placing one foot in front of another.

The air gets clearer as I get further away from my initial start point and as my ears start to build pressure I can tell that I'm ascending. Holding onto what I can only guess is a wall, I balance myself as I tread across the uneven terrain in a fog of grayness. I trust this body, after all it seems it knows where it's going. I continue on at a steady pace, not casual but at a brisk enough speed to finish my task in time even with the risks calculated.

I feel taller. It's a strange observation and is probably an illusion drawn from the speed of my accent but out of the semi confusion that has bubbled my mind it is something I can feel happy about. My legs take relatively longer strides than I'm used to and as the ground beneath my feet plateaus I feel almost as if I'm flying. Flying has its limitations too though because the more I climb to the surface the brighter the cavern becomes until I have to shield my eyes from the blinding light.

My hands eventually reach a rounded edge and my adjust to the new light intensity. I feel my body freeze momentarily as I marvel at the daybreak. The sun casts its warming glow across the land before me, welcoming me into a field of placid roses. I take a hesitant step forward but withdraw as I realize the bodies mingled among the orchards are stiller than the flowers skirting along with the wind. From afar the scene looks picturesque; a warm start to the day refreshed by a gentle breeze wafting the wonderful aroma of flowers to vitalize your morning. That would be the case if only the aroma was anything other than putrid.

A stench of what my mind seems to call 'death'. The word seems foreign to me yet provides more accuracy than any other word I can think of. Nonetheless, it holds more power than the illusion before me as it easily dispels the twisted euphemism. Fear locks my legs in place and for a fleeting moment I wish to return to my safe haven but that's not an option. Fear locks me in place but it also drives me. A fear of anyone else dying for the sake of a revolution would mean we are no better than them. As long as people have the will to make things better than our revolution will never cease to exist. It may not happen today but it is better to live and fight for another day than to die in vain.

Shaking my head in regret I run past the lifeless bodies scattered carelessly against. If only I had stayed then this wouldn't have happened but as long as I do this I can attempt to make it right. My legs move on autopilot sprinting and hiding intermittently whenever I hear the loud combustion's which threatens to unleash horrors of my past. My mind appears numb to the malevolence around me, fixated on a single goal and motivated by a constant nagging in my head 'We must stop Small Sister. We are the revolution. We are Big Brother'.

Continuing the pattern, the bangs gradually get louder helping to mask the pattern of my shoes as I near the eye of the massacre. How many times have I hidden so far? How many lives have been sacrificed? I feel my heart pound against my chest and it almost erupts from my throat as I slip in a ruby puddle causing me to skid on the floor halting right before a junction. Quickly scrabbling to my feet, I press my body against the wall of a corner shop scanning the sidewalk for any threats. When there are none I crouch on the ground minimizing by body area awaiting the next signal to run.

In a moment of bravery I look around the corner and am met by a pair of desperate eyes. The woman who they belong to doesn't say anything - she doesn't need to, the expression on her face says it all and with a sound that nearly bursts my eardrums my suspicions are proven correct. I resist the urge to gag and make a quick prayer for the woman's soul. A prayer to who I don't know exactly which is laughable considering my undercover position is one of a preacher or so I believe judging by the what was once white clothing. Nonetheless whether the omnipotent being(s) exist or not I do know that whoever it is it won't be the sorry excuse of indoctrination that Small Sister call 'The Worm'.

Gritting my teeth I make a quick dash around the corner. Mytopia may be a brainwashed utopia to a point but even though it has all the basic needs and wants of a society, which I admit to sparingly, it's efficiency of other options is its weak point due to heavy reliance that nothing will ever go wrong. The same arrogance though means that the weapons used have a long cool down time which will give me enough leeway to sprint past the imminent threat towards the only route to my destination.

I run past the woman on the floor avoiding any more blood than I have to and try my best to shoot daggers a the gaping man in black as he frantically reloads his weapon. For a split second I swear I saw a young boy out of the corner of my eye wedged between the woman and the man in black but that would be impossible. I make a quick glance backwards to be sure and sure enough a young boy around the age of 16 stands there star struck before deciding to start chasing me. I stumble slightly in fear as my mind instantly expects the worst case scenario but from his body language I can tell that he isn't a threat and a part of me seems to recognize him more than I can tell. His frightened eyes are framed between flecks of fresh crimson blood and the goblets stream down his face as if being spattered by scarlet rain. His expression is as familiar as if I was staring into a mirror but with a blink he's disappeared like a ghost from past. Under normal circumstances I would have been dumbstruck but even if cows started jumping over the moon now I probably wouldn't be surprised. I just will my legs to run faster, fast enough to accomplish my goal at hand.

Quicker than expected I feel someone hot on my trail and this time it isn't a ghost. Knowing how well the men in black have been trained I didn't want to be pursued at all or at least until I've completed my task but if they're chasing me then it means they can't kill anyone else. Luckily I've been stationed in Mytopia since inception and I know these street better than anyone else, after all, I am the oldest here since I've managed to evade the age limit for more than a couple of years. Small Sister's arrogance also means that the neighborhood that I grew up in hasn't changed a great deal except for slight renovations which will allow me to shake off my pursuers if only for a couple of minutes. Improvising hasn't ever really been a great strength of mine but the new location where I can complete my task is a good a place as any.

Zigzagging between junctions and crossroads I manage to lose the first few pursuers. Jumping fences and beelining through small alleyways lose a few more but I am quickly running out of neighborhood. If I'm going to finish my task then I need to do it ASAP and thankfully the old tree with the hidden hollow is still there right where I need it.

Diving into the enlarged rabbit hole it feels a lot more cramped than when I was younger and that was when we could fit two of us in here. The men in black won't be tricked for long and when I'm sure that they're far enough I squeeze myself out of the tree and head straight towards my Upbringing. I dash up the stairs and into my previous dorm making sure to close the door behind me. It will hardly buy me a few seconds but old habits are hard to break. Thankfully the wardrobe is exactly where I want it to be and I would smile in nostalgia if the circumstances had been different. I would like nothing more than to relive my childhood here; getting scolded for having late night chats, pretending to be an archeologist as I would scramble through the bottom bonanza and even eat the disgusting goop that is regulated for your own personal nutrients even though they're fully capable of doing that whilst making it taste good.

I can't help but feel a lump in my throat as I wander down memory lane. Sounds outside signal my time is up and I take in last deep breathe of the past before they steal this away from me as they do everything else. I place my hand to my temple and...