INTERTWINED: EVERYTHING FALLS TOGETHER WHEN OUR DESTINIES INTERTWINE

By KATY MICHELLE

"A state of chaos, I know how that feels. The experiments doubled and went on longer than anyone would have thought. In a state formed strictly by classes, I got the brunt of the injustices. The only thing that keeps us going is the fear of the torture that'll be inflicted upon us if we stop.

Several years in the future a state

• Language: English
• Publisher: KATY MICHELLE
• Release date: Dec 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798869078506

Book preview

Chapter 1

Eveleigh

I pull my now bloody hands away from my face after shielding my eyes. Thick crimson blood oozes onto my shoes. My ears ring loudly, preventing me from understanding what people are yelling around me. A dead man is in front of me with a bullet lodged in his skull. The guard that shot him places his gun back in his gun holster.

My fingers touch the necklace I’ve worn for three years, pressing my trembling fingers against the ruby. I move my fingers to the silver wedding ring that hangs on the necklace, gently moving my finger along the inside of it.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe

This is what happens when you steal! The guard yells to the crowd with a smirk as if he’s proud of what he did. The new corpse on the ground didn’t steal. I had watched the whole thing. I even came out of the store right behind him.

The poor man bought a new jacket to replace the shredded cloth that looked like it was bought a lifetime ago. He paid for it without a receipt since the store was out of paper, as usual. Once he stepped outside, the guard stopped him.

He claimed the man stole the expensive jacket and took his gun out, threatening him with death. An innocent man and an angry guard with a gun, everyone should have expected what happened next. The man shoved the guard aside, trying to get to what I assume were his kids. The guard pulled the trigger just as I slapped my hands over my eyes.

There’s a crowd gathered, everyone visibly scared and shocked. His two children, barely in elementary, hold each other as they wail. They wail as I once did after watching my father being killed in front of me. My heart aches for the boy and girl who now don’t have a father.

Splatters of the dead man’s blood paint my body, drying as if I’m a canvas, and his blood is paint.

He didn’t steal. Tears threaten to fall as copper’s painful, miserable smell fills my nose. The guard tenses, looking at me as if I had just killed his mom. I pull my fingers away from my necklace, digging my nails into the palms of my hands.

You are calling me a liar? His icy blue eyes shoot daggers at me. I take a sharp inhale, glancing at the name on his badge, I’m telling you that you don’t know what actually happened, Ryan.

He looks taken aback. He didn’t expect this from a Third Class. He probably didn’t expect anyone from any class to say something so outrageous.

There are three classes in the state of Colorado. There’s the First Class, Second Class, and Third Class. Sadly for me, I’m a part of the Third Class—the poor fools who don’t have a chance. The Second Class is for people who make a decent amount of money—an average lifestyle. The first Class is for the rich; they have the most privileges out of all the classes.

Victor is the dictator of our hell. He has armed military forces all around the borders of the state. No one goes in or out. Disobey, and you’re dead.

My dad would probably be proud of me if he saw me at this moment. He would probably clap out of all the things to do. My mom, on the other hand, would scold me. I can’t pull this stuff after I turn eighteen; it’ll have me killed. My dad knew the charges for people over eighteen, but he still stood against the government.

My attention goes back to the man calling another guard over. My heart violently pounds against my chest as I watch Ryan and the second guard stalk toward me. A rabbit in a wolf’s line of sight, how dreadful that can be.

Within seconds Ryan’s hands are on both of my arms, his fingers prying into my skin. I wince at his painful grip as he stares into my eyes, trying to see into the depths of my soul.

What’s your name? He demands as he sees the unremovable bracelet on my wrist that indicates my Class. It tells the guards if you’re a Third, Second, or First Class by the number of Class engraved on it. I attempt to cover it up, hoping he will think I am a Second Class. Many have told me I would look like a Second Class if my tattered clothes didn’t ruin it.

Eveleigh Whitmen, I respond.

What is your age? The new guard asks. I look at the name on his badge, Brian.

I turned seventeen seven months ago. I reply, If you kill me, then make it quick. I’ll be busy searching for your ancestors in the afterlife. To tell them that you two turned into fuckups.

Within seconds of saying that, I’m thrown to the side, my back slamming against the wall. I wince before staring them dead in the eye. Watch what you say to us, Third Class, Ryan grunts, placing his gun under my chin as the crowd gasps.

I’m closer to eighteen than I am to seventeen; I’m sure they’ll see that as justification for killing me early.

Woah Woah! What are you doing? You can’t just shoot someone whenever you please. An unfamiliar voice comments. Ryan lowers his gun, turning towards the stranger.

My savior’s jet-black hair makes his emerald-green eyes pop. His caramel skin has light freckles sprinkling his nose. He’s taller than me, the same height as the guards, around six feet.

Name, class, and age. Brian orders, displeased by this guy’s interruption. Calder Brooks, First Class, seventeen. Calder answers. Ryan pulls me away from the wall by my shoulder. I stand in front of Calder, looking up at him as if it’s no big deal to stand in front of a First Class.

This is a Third Class, Ryan shakes me, you don’t stand up for garbage.

If this were normal circumstances, I would’ve thanked Calder minutes ago. Sadly, this isn’t normal. I can’t speak to a First Class since I am a Third Class. The rules are that the Third Class can speak to the Second Class. The Second Class can speak to the Third and First. First can speak to Second Class.

You don’t have to act like I’m the dirt on your boot. I look at him before glancing at his boots covered in filth. He lets go of me, spinning me around to face him. I catch his cold gaze and mirror it back to him.

Only a little longer of this. I’ll be out of Colorado soon enough.

Did I ask for you to speak? He snaps at me, his hand rising above his head, about to strike me. Immediately, I place my hands in front of my face as his hand swoops down, inches away from hitting me. I wait for the impact, but it never comes; I lower my hands and look up. My eyes widen as I see Calder with his hand wrapped tightly around the guard’s wrist.

You don’t need to harm her. Why waste your energy on a Third Class that doesn’t know respect? Calder loosens his grip on the guard with an intense stare.

Ryan steps away from me and puts his hand around Calder’s neck, shoving him against the wall, You shouldn’t have done that, pretty boy.

My breath catches in my throat. My heart throbs in my chest. Am I going to have to witness another murder? I stand frozen as I watch Ryan. His grip tightens around Calder’s neck.

No, this can’t happen again. I can’t let someone else die for me.

Stop it! I scream at the guard, throwing myself into him. He grunts as he lets go of Calder, stumbling before catching himself. Within seconds, his gun is out again, pointing it in my face. I stare at the barrel, frozen in place for the second time.

Ryan, you need to stop. It’s not worth it. Brian puts his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. My whole body is so tense I could start shaking with muscle spasms.

Start moving before you piss me off. Ryan orders, putting his gun away. With that, Calder walks off, not saying another word.

Brian, take this little bitch to her house. He shoves me toward the guard. He catches and confronts me as Brian walks away.

Where is Rose Whitmen? Brian asks me as we stand in front of the door. I kick at the rugged doormat before answering him.

She isn’t home. I roll my eyes at Brian, who has his arm extended toward the door. I know this because her job works her half to death daily. She gets up at five in the morning and comes home when it’s dark outside. My mom is a hard-working woman, but of course, she wouldn’t get a second glance at higher-paying jobs because she’s a Third Class.

Just get inside. His tone of annoyance lets me know he is done talking to me. I yank my shoulder out of his strong grip, already expecting a bruise to form. I dig around in my pocket, pulling out my house key as he watches me. I place the key in the lock, twisting until I hear a click. I take it out, swinging the flimsy door open to reveal my poor living state.

You can see into the living room—an old couch with stains and a coffee table in front of it from the door. There’s a rickety table against the wall covered in dust. Our bookshelf is filled with so many books that it broke our old one. My late father’s picture sits in a frame on top of it.

Only a little bit longer of this. Only a little bit longer and I’ll be free.

Pulling me out of my trance is two hands on my back, shoving me inside my house. I stumble forward, barely stopping myself from falling on my face. I turn around to face Brian with my face twisted in disgust. It doesn’t affect him when he sees it.

Consider this a warning next time; we may not be so easy on you. He glares at me as if I’m a roach that’s eating his dinner. I wouldn’t say I like their disgusted look. Almost everyone above the Third Class has those eyes filled with revulsion. They act like it’s our fault we’re in this position. We were just born into a hopeless position with no way out. No Third Class has ever climbed up to The Second Class. No Second Class has ever dropped down to the Third Class, either.

I close my door, lock it, and take a step back, staring at the thin wood in front of me after seeing Brian walk down the road, not looking back. If anyone wanted to break it, they could; after all, it’s hollow on the inside. The lock would never be of help if someone desperately wanted to get in here.

My attention turns to the clock on the wall, telling me it’s only ten in the morning. I wasn’t even able to show up to school with all the commotion that had happened. Maybe I wouldn’t get a mark against me from the school if I had been directed home by the guard.

Breaking out of thought, I turn my attention towards the wall phone, desperately needing a distraction from the events of today. Autumn, a Third Class like me, wouldn’t have a mobile phone. She’s out of the question.

The Third Class isn’t allowed to have mobile phones; only the Second and the First Class have that privilege. My mind flips to Meelo, a Second Class. Meelo will be able to answer the mobile phone he so luckily has.

I walk over to our ten-year-old sofa, lift a cushion, and pull out a fifty-silver coin. I blame Victor for changing the money currency when I was three. I place the cushion back down and walk over to the wall phone beside the dusty table. I look through the list of numbers on the lined paper taped to the wall. As soon as I saw Meelo’s name, I dialed his number into the wall phone.

The phone rings out for a few moments until Meelo picks up the phone. Eve, I’m in school. His voice is low as he speaks.

Ok, but you never take it seriously. Can you sneak out and help me?

With? And how are you not in school?

I need a distraction, I tell him, fumbling with my tattered jeans. I guess I can skip it; it’s boring here anyways. Why are you not in school?

I didn’t make it to school. A guard killed an innocent man and then pulled his gun on me too.

Shit. I’ll be there soon. He replies, hanging up without saying anything else. Meelo and Autumn have been in my life for several years now. Autumn and I have been neighbors our whole life. I met Meelo in middle school by bumping into him in the halls. Ever since then, we have been a group of three. It would be impossible to find a group as amazing as ours.

Amazing in the way that we plan to escape this damned place somehow. Autumn’s parents are always gone, so she takes the time to watch the walls. She watches the shipments going in and out while Meelo and I plan on how to get out. I’m the one who originally came up with the idea after my dad’s murder several years ago. We haven’t been able to complete it since there hasn’t been any recent openings.

Escaping this place is a dream of many. It just takes the right group of people to make that dream a reality. It’s a rough plan, but if it gets us out of here, it’s worth the risks that it’ll come with.

I snap to reality, and I stuff the coin into my only unripped pocket. My clothes would have First Class running in disgust. A black tank top that stops at my belly button, with jeans that are so worn out, there’re rips all over. My back pockets have ripped at the bottom, making it impossible to place stuff in them.

My attention turns to my dad’s picture on the bookshelf. My hand goes back up to my necklace, my index finger lining the inside of the ring. He was never ok with how this experiment went. He dreamed about a better life for mom and me. Now, that is my dream. Pulling me out of my thoughts is the knock on the door. Meelo? I ask, refusing to open the door for anyone else.

No, I’m George Washington. I can feel his sarcastic eye roll through the door. I smile to myself as I unlock the door, opening it to reveal myself. His hair, which was once an afro, is now buzzed into a new fade, surprising me.

Let me get cleaned up. I was in a daze until now, My smile drops as I look at the splatters of blood on my body.

He quietly follows me in, closing the door behind him. I walk to the kitchen, placing a rag under the running faucet that refuses to warm up no matter how long you run it. He watches me with questions filling his face as I scrub the dried specks off.

These jeans are my only clean ones. I sigh, suddenly feeling guilty that my jeans are the thing my mind is on. I should continue to be upset about that man and for his family. That’s what any normal person would do.

Maybe watching my dad slowly die is the reason why I ignore my lingering thoughts about what will become of his now-widowed wife and fatherless child.

You didn’t say anything about my hair yet. He runs his hand over his afro-less hair, trying to change the subject. Where’s your afro? I ask to amuse him, giving him an expressionless face. The guards said it was getting too big, so I had to cut it. He sighs, disappointed in the loss of his beloved hair.

Wow, that’s terrible, I say bluntly, plopping down on the couch as I take my family picture in my hand. I’m trying to distract you from sad things. Meelo gently takes the picture in his hand.

I was five in the picture, held by my once-happy mom as my dad smiled cheerfully at the camera. If only I hadn’t gotten him killed... maybe we would still be that happy.

I stand up, walk towards the window, and stare at the tree in my front yard. There’s a camera angled to look in my house. There are cameras everywhere, watching every move you make.

Anything the camera catches you doing can and will be used against you. Each day, I realize the state of Colorado is just a giant prison.

Taking me away from my thoughts is the scene of three guards a few blocks down the street; they look like they are chasing something. With any hope, it’s Autumn’s parents, ready to take them back into her house. She’s never had them around for longer than a few days at a time. Somehow, even in Colorado, drug addicts exist.

The defendant’s name is Braxton Cole; he is a Second Class who stole the diamond we’ve been looking for. I need all guards out looking for him. A guard talks into his walkie-talkie, his eyes searching around for anyone who seems suspicious. At least now that the guards have a different problem to deal with, they won’t be up my ass.

I glance up at Meelo, who is stopped beside me, his brows furrowing. I quietly ask if he is alright.

Braxton Cole, I go to class with him. He responds with his eyes not leaving the guard’s face. I’m only thankful that the guard isn’t looking our way. With the way Meelo stares, it could get us on some sort of hate charge.

I thin my lips, placing my hands on Meelo’s arm to avert his attention from his thoughts. Come on, lets keep going, I tell him. I imagine it’s hard for him, knowing one of his classmates will be sentenced to death for theft. There’s no doubt they will let that boy live, especially if he is over eighteen.

Chapter 2

Braxton

I pant as if I just ran a marathon; my legs ache as I crouch behind the bar counter. I take off my red jacket, throwing it to the ground beside me. If skipping school wouldn’t get you arrested, I would always do it. It’s a shame I must pick my skipping days wisely.

What the hell, Braxton? Why are you here again? Alisha brings her attention to me. Today is the third time this month I’ve hidden in her bar. If they find out I go here to hide, then it could put her in danger.

Your bar is the only place that has a broken camera, I explain as if she didn’t know. Everyone knows that a broken camera is heaven on earth. I bring myself to my feet, grabbing a water bottle off the counter. I scan through the customers in the bar as I unscrew the lid, gulping the water down.

Alisha snarls at my actions, grabbing my tattered jacket off the floor. She tosses it at me, and I’m barely able to grab it before I hang it over a chair.

There are people at this bar that come here daily, drinking themselves to death. No one blames them, either. That’s how I plan to go out. I place my water bottle back on the counter, wiping the stray drops from my chin.

The bar always smells like vanilla, which is Alisha’s favorite smell. Apparently, the smell of vanilla is inviting, which is good for business. The bar has to be inviting for people to come. It’s not easy owning a business in Second Class. Several people come after her bar, trying to get her to leave.

As if I’m being called to, my eyes go down to a familiar cabinet on the counter. I crouch, opening the untouched cabinet. My eyes land on a too-familiar diamond ring. The beautiful jewelry was swiped from a First Class a week ago. The one who stole it is me. Instead of sitting in a jewelry box on a wooden shelf, it’s sitting by dusty wine glasses.

The action of Alisha dropping a glass catches my attention as it shatters on the ground. Glass shards fly around us as the liquid soaks into the flooring.

Are you ok? What happened? I ask her, going to my knees as I start picking up the glass.

Is that the ring that was stolen a week ago? Her face shows fear as she responds. This is the first time I have seen her break something. She has always been careful in the bar, never messing anything up.

When was your birthday? She asks me, her eyes glazed over as she looks at the ring. It’s painfully obvious she knows I stole it.

A week ago, I respond truthfully, knowing what the outcome will be. The day I turned eighteen put a target on my back for Victor. Once you turn eighteen, any crime you commit can lead you to death. Skipping school can potentially lead you to death. The skipping will not get me killed this time. The ring is the item that will bring me to death.

You’re eighteen? She yells at me, pushing me onto my back and grabbing me by my shirt. Her face is disoriented; she’s infuriated with me. Her grip tightens on my shirt collar as she brings her face closer to mine.

You need to calm down. I try to shush her, knowing that customers are looking this way.

Are you stealing and skipping because you WANT to die?

My heart starts to pound, wanting to slap my hand over her mouth from her loudness. I know the other customers know what’s going on. They aren’t stupid or deaf.

The stealing is to help you keep the bar. This isn’t a lie, either. She doesn’t know that I know about all the money she has to pay for the bar. At this rate, they’ll take it from her.

Your parents entrusted your life to me. Me! You can’t steal anymore. Tears form in her eyes as she yells at me. I open my mouth to speak, but my voice refuses to cooperate. I lay here dumbfounded with a woman only fifteen years older than me yelling in my face.

You’re acting like a child! I tell her, sitting up to push her off of me. She lands on her butt in front of me; her frown line seems to have gone deeper. My face heats up as I realize the scene we have made. That isn’t something good for business.

My heart drops as I see a woman with her phone up to her ear. What shocks me is that she’s a regular. Margeret Wisen. It’s clear from her expression that she called the guards on us. I feel frustrated and defeated, my stare attempting to strangle her.

You stupid bitch! Alisha screams at her, picking up a beer bottle. I don’t care to stop her as she hurls it toward Margeret. It misses her by an inch, shattering on the ground behind her. Beer seeps into the floor as Alisha slams her fists on the counter in anger.

Everyone but Margeret stays in their seats as if nothing has occurred. These people drink their lives away; they don’t care. Every night, they sit down, glued to their seats, drinking away until they have to go home.

No one cares enough but Margeret. She only cares about the money she can get from catching me. Someone who has stolen such an expensive item. She probably thinks that if she reports them, if she commits another crime, she will be pardoned. Sadly, that’s now how this fucked system works.

You would’ve done the same thing for the reward. She scrambles to her feet and dodges the second bottle that is chucked at her. The reward for catching a thief is extra coins every payday, which is what she was after instead of the pardoned rumor on crimes.

I could’ve done it if I wanted to, but I actually have a heart, Alisha yells back, admitting she could’ve turned in the child she raised. I glare at her, knowing she didn’t mean what she said but still feeling my mood drop.

It only takes a few simple moments for everything to change. The seconds on the clock tick as the girls scream at each other. Alcohol seeps into the floor as I breathe slowly, not knowing if I should run to get a head start on the guards.

Before I’m able to make my choice, the glass doors are shoved open by the guards. My breath hitches in my throat as I feel doom weigh in the building.

I’ll never understand how they appear so quickly.

Margeret extends her arm, pointing towards Alisha and me as she tells the guards we are the thieves. My heart pounds on my chest as Alisha and I slowly raise our hands as the guards scream at us. I try to keep my breathing steady to keep my nervousness low. They could shoot me right now if they wanted to.

Regret fills every inch of my body and soul as the guards shove their guns in the customers’ faces. If the screaming wasn’t good for business, then this certainly isn’t. Anger builds in my body as I watch the customers being forced to lie on the ground. Some of the customers are drunk, and some of them are sober, but all of them lie face down on the ground.

My eyes widen as I see a guard make his way toward Alisha and me. I want to take her hand and run, but I don’t know if that’s the best option for this moment. They have guns, we would be target practice for them, and I doubt they miss.

Go out through the back. Alisha’s voice trembles as she whispers, her gaze switching between me and the guards. I can see the fear in her tense face.

My body stayed in place before they put their hands on me, shoving my 6’2 body onto the ground. The knees of the guards go into our spines, making me grunt with discomfort. I’d prefer not to have a bruise in the most awkward place on my back.

We’re on the ground for a moment until they bring us back to our feet. The question fills my head about why they brought us back up so quickly, only having us on the ground for a few minutes.

Barely after I finish my thoughts, Alisha shoves her elbow into the guard’s stomach. Her actions take me by surprise as he doubles over. Going right after her, I do the same to the guard behind me; the guards let go for a split second before taking their guns out. My eyes lock with one of the guards, and a shaky breath leaving my lips.

GO! Alisha screams at me, shoving me towards the kitchen door with both of her hands. Within seconds of her screaming, I am pumping my legs towards the kitchen, shoving it open as a bullet flies towards me. It merely misses me as I hurl towards the ground, slamming the doors closed behind me. I immediately lock it, preventing them from coming in.

I rush past the cooks, who have no idea what’s happening yet. My legs move on instinct, carrying the rest of me towards a door that will take me outside.

The doors swing open, exposing me to an alleyway. I take a deep breath before immediately sprinting between buildings. Every sharp turn takes me further away from the life I once knew.

I know what will happen to Alisha. They will kill her. They will kill me.

I can’t ever go back.

I glance over and stop, catching myself before I turn towards a metal ladder leading up to the top of a building. Without thinking my plan through, I begin climbing. Bullets fly at my feet before I’m able to get onto the roof of the building. A gust of wind blows through my hair, and I realize I have no place to go. I’ve trapped myself on a roof.

With my heart pounding in my throat and the guards climbing up the ladder, I take a running start toward another building. The drop, if I don’t make it to the next roof, wouldn’t be so damaging. All I have to do is make it into that window. My foot leaves the ledge, I’m flying through the air. I extend my arms as I feel my body falling.

My body hits straight through the window of the second-story apartment. Glass shards cut my face and cut through my shirt. My body lands roughly on a wooden table before I end up rolling off. My body rolls a few more times on the wooden floor. There’s a woman screaming bloody murder as I lift my head to look at her.

Glass remains all around me, I stopped right in front of her couch, almost hitting it with my body. Her coffee table was also smashed in the process. It doesn’t take me more than a few seconds before I’m on my feet again, running towards her front door.

I swing the door open and step out, immediately starting down the hall. A few Second-Class shout at me as I push past them. I don’t have time to kiss up today. Flying down the stairs was the easiest thing until I met the bottom. My body wasn’t ready for regular ground, so I slammed into the wall with my shoulder.

Eyes. Eyes are on me. All around me. They know I’m a criminal. They know I’m running from something.

Are you o-

I cut the woman off as I began sprinting towards the door, shoving it open. The warm sun hits my skin again, and for a moment, I’m able to breathe.

The guards haven’t caught up to me yet, which is surprising. I feel a sense of relief fill my veins as I realize I’m on the edge of the town. I turn to my right, where the start of the woods is. On the other side of these many trees is the border, which is why no one goes into the trees.

As soon as I’m in the woods, I’m jumping over logs and around trees. There are no cameras in the forest, it’s the only place that’s safe from the dictators’ eyes.

A call for another human rings in my ears, and my legs stop. I collapse onto the grass; the damp dirt soaks into my jeans. I lean down, my forearms resting in the grass as I breathe harshly.

My throat is the driest it’s ever been, and I don’t have anything to ease the pain of