While giving myself a little boost on the swing, a woman dressed in a black tank top and baggy pants approached me. Her black hair was tied high in a ponytail, and a white stick–shaped thing stuck out of her mouth. It was too thick to be a toothpick, and the end was ashy with a small red dot that was too small to be considered a fire.

  “What are you doing all alone?” She asked with the white thing still in her mouth.

  I didn’t answer her right away. I stared at her for some time. She seemed oddly familiar, almost as if I had recently met her.

  Oh… wait.

  “Are you… you’re with the guy from the convention line.”

  She nodded after taking the white stick out of her mouth with two fingers. Her exhale was followed by smoke, which was interesting.

  The reason she looked very familiar was that she was next to the same guy who was ahead of us in line.

  “Yep, that was me. So, what are you doing here all alone?”

  “Why did you follow me?”

  She sat on the swing next to me and brushed the bottom of her shoes on the wood chips. “You’re buddies were worried. They kept saying that you didn’t know your way around here and could get lost. I thought that was a load of baloney. Then I remembered we were at a convention where people celebrated the lives of outsiders. It can all be an act. You did know your way, and they just went with it. But then I looked at their faces. There was genuine panic behind their skin. Unless you all are pursuing a career in acting, it’s difficult to be that believable.”

  I swallowed a rough rock that scratched my throat. “Meaning?”

  She extended her arm with the white, cylinder stick with a brownish tip. “Do you want a little puff?”

  “N–No.”

  What was going on? Who was this woman, and what did she want with me? Why were my palms sweaty? I rubbed them against my pants. What was this tingle in my chest?

  Why did I feel afraid of what was to come?

  It was like my brain knew I was caught.

  “Jill, is it? I heard your buddies toss that name around and assumed it’s you.” Her breath smelled like lingering smoke. It wasn’t pleasant at all.

  I responded with a scrunched face. “Ya, that’s me.”

  She held the white thing up to my eyes. “What is this called?”

  I took a good look at it and had no idea. I knew it wasn’t the time to mess up.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Think. Was it something Roger showed or came home with?

  I dug through my brain for anything that seemed somewhat similar, but fell empty. I had to make up a lie or something to keep me afloat.

  “Uh—I—The name is slipping from me.”

  “Oh, no worries. It’s a smoke—moke.”

  I faked a small laugh and tapped my forehead. “Ah, of course. A smokemoke. I don’t know how that name slipped my mind.

  We shared a laugh while gently swinging. It was a good thing she believed me.

  Or so I thought…

  “Jill, this is a cigarette. But you would know if you were born here, obviously. Or… unless you’re acting, which I do not think you are.” She dropped the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it.

  “What do you want?”

  “The truth. You’re from the villages, right? You managed to sneak past SCAR’s border patrol and land your way here. Got to admit, that’s quite gutsy of you. I like a woman with a lot of guts.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about. What village? Did she view the outside world as one big village? I also had no clue what she meant by ‘border patrol.’ Never in my life had I heard that term.

  “Is being from the village an issue?” I wanted to know more about the village she mentioned and whether it's the outside world or not.

  “Absolutely not. I was going to offer you a place to stay. You and your squad.”

  “Huh?”

  I had nothing else to say. I didn’t know how I got here, but I did. It was almost like a miracle. A miracle that seemed too good to be true.

  “Yeah. I—As someone who has been in a certain business, it’s easy for me to tell when people are out of place. You are reeking with discomfort, so I figured I would offer a place for you to stay.”

  Yep, too good to be true.

  “Are you SCAR?” It was a straightforward question, and I knew no one would blurt it out. I didn’t care. I had to ask.

  She giggled at my question. “The complete opposite. I’m a casual citizen trying to become a better person. Which is why I am offering you and your squad to stay at my place.”

  I got off the swing and faced the woman’s direction. “Why are you trying to become a better person?”

  She probably wasn’t expecting that question. Her lips turned into a miniature frown, and her shoulders sank.

  “I worked for someone who turned me into a machine, almost. Whenever I looked into the mirror, darkness leaked through my eyes. I didn’t recognize my face in the mirror. I lost who I was. I hated myself. I did things that I am not proud of. That was two years ago. I left that business and started to live for myself and my two brothers, whom I love dearly. Thinking about my past disgusts me. That’s why, if I do a good deed like this, karma will have some mercy.” She got up by herself and took a step forward. “Please, let me help you live in the city. Grant me my selfish wish of salvation.”

  Her words reached my heart. I knew how she felt. The darkness overpowers your body until you can’t recognize yourself. Committing unspeakable acts that made me gag just by thinking of it. And for what?

  For the people that we love.

  For the beauty that we have.

  She desired salvation for her previous sins. The way she spoke made her sins seem significant. Her voice was weighed down by the darkness that carried within. The darkness in someone lessens, but it will never leave.

  It’s the cruel truth. A truth that I experienced recently.

  I told myself I shouldn’t expose my true identity. That I shouldn’t tell anyone I was an outsider. After talking to this woman for a bit, something changed inside of me. It was like I could empathize with her words. And for some reason, it felt necessary to tell her the truth.