I turn to see Finn screaming at a prisoner, a young woman, probably about the same age as me. Her skin is very pale, and her red hair is matted. It looks like it was once curly and buoyant. Even now, as he torments her, it tries to bounce while she flinches.
I start feeling some sort of attachment to this girl. She reminds me of myself a little too much and I need to get away from here, away from the camp. Finn is horribly frightening when he’s a general. When he’s a lover, not some much. At least, I’ve never thought of it that way before, but I am now.
He slaps her tear stained cheek. I have no idea why she’s been singled her out. There must be a reason, though. Finn is not one to hurt complete innocents. I start to imagine me in her place, a prisoner myself. I have been one before and I went through far worse treatment than she’s receiving now, but that doesn’t matter either. Finn has never physically hurt me. In fact, he’s protected me more times than could be counted on two sets of fingers, but he’s hurting this girl and for some reason that I don’t know, I feel her pain.
I consider speaking up, telling him that he’s needed somewhere or making up an excuse to get him away from her, because, frankly, he’s only getting angrier. He keeps hitting her, but it’s not my place to step in. I am simply a visitor. Finn is a general, and this woman is a prisoner. Even if he were to listen to me, it wouldn’t change the camp or how it’s run. It might only temporarily change this girl and what’s happening to her. It’s not worth Finn getting mad at me.
I try to disappear into the officer’s house, but not before I see what happens next. Finn turns away from her, leaving her on her side, clutching her stomach. Another officer approaches him, and they speak with one another for a few moments. Then the man barks an order to two soldiers. I can’t make out what he says, but it’s not hard to figure out. They grasp her by her hair, pulling her to her feet and twisting her broken body as they do so. She gasps for air between her shrieks, and Finn does nothing. I do nothing as they drag her through the doors to the Pit.
Finn has already started to focus on something else. He talks to an officer on the side. All the while, the prisoners continue to march, and cough, and bleed, conducted by Finn and this man’s subordinates.
I feel suddenly sick. My arms quiver with each step and I wouldn’t even be able to sign my name if I had to – my hands shake too much. I pull them up into my sleeves just enough to conceal them from prying eyes, of which there are many. Prisoners passing by on the march look at me like I’m from Neptune. I know this is because I’m female. One of the rarest things in Junen is to see a woman in a military uniform. And this seems especially true in the camps. I’m the only female here who isn’t a victim. Now I see why Finn was so hesitant about letting me come yesterday, why Skinner tried to forbid me from being here. I’m not strong enough to take it. I can kill an entire city and sleep like a baby, so long as I never have to leave the comfort of a safe, sterile strategy room. This is what Finn does for a living. This is what I do for a living. We’re in the business of killing people.
The prisoners’ eyes don’t just stare, they speak. Each set has a story, a horror story. The children’s eyes look weary and afraid of me. The adult’s eyes look angry, ravaged. They look like animals’ eyes. Beaten, starving animals.
I leap up the front steps of the house, shove open the main door, and hold back a deluge of tears and rage as I run upstairs. The only person around to see is some captain, coming down the staircase, who says upon seeing me in my craze, “Are you alright, miss?” He’s another killer like me. I want him away from me.
I get to the top floor of the three story house, the floor with the room I slept in last night. Every door in the intimidating hallway looks identical. One of them is my room, but I can’t remember which. I do know which one is the door to a bathroom, and I claw at the doorknob until I’m able to fling it open, then slam it shut.
What have I done? How could I have done this? My reflection in the mirror pounds back at me. Tears stream down my cheeks. I’m a messy piece of professionalism, with my hair perfectly done and my makeup just starting to run. I rip out the braid I had done this morning and continue to weep. This is the first time I’ve cried in a long time, and this is the last time I want to cry for a long time. I feel weak and vulnerable, like a human drifting on a raft on open water, waiting for the beating sun to take me and the sea to claim me.
I clutch the edge of the countertop for dear life. The sun won’t get me, nor shall the sea, nor shall the voice inside my head telling me to get away from Junen, and fast. I’ll finish what I started. I’ll win this war for Junen, even if that means I have to stay in this camp another night.
These people, these very prisoners themselves, have hurt me, have hurt Junen. They are, without a doubt, a threat. This is self-defense, right? But it troubles me. We aren’t defending Junen, at least not the people of it. We’re defending the empire, the idea of it, and the theory of its strength. And for what? I thought everything came down to people - every government, every organization. There must be something more, besides that. There has to be something I don’t know about. Because Hage isn’t an idiot, and he wouldn’t dedicate everything to nothing. He must know what this thing is. Kelly probably knows too. Maybe even Finn knows. I’m too afraid of what the answer may be to ask him. Besides, I don’t think he would tell me. I will likely never know. The question becomes whether or not I’m okay with that.
But for now, it’s just one more night. I can handle one more night here. I’ve handled many more at far worse places.

I don’t leave the house for the rest of the evening. After I’ve calmed down, I can think more rationally, and I hide myself away. If I go out, Finn will be able to tell that I’ve been crying, no matter how long I wash my face for. I go to his room, not mine, because mine overlooks the marching grounds, whereas his faces the back of the camp and has closable curtains on every window. I put on the television and try to block out the sounds that penetrate though the walls anyway. Screams. Someone on the stairs. Gun shots. Soft music from the room next door. I drift off to this disturbing pattern and dream of better things.
Finn coming in around midnight wakes me up. I think I move a little bit, but he doesn’t notice. He just smirks upon seeing me sleeping on his bed. I see, in the light that sneaks in through the rendezvous of the curtains and the glow from the television, him taking off his jacket and setting it down on the back of a chair. He flips off the T.V. and leaves us virtually in complete darkness, until he turns on the bathroom light.
“Hi,” I say, before he closes the door to the bathroom.
“Hey, you’re awake,” he says with a smile.
“I am now.” I stretch and yawn simultaneously, which only seems like the fitting thing to do after waking from a nap. I fell asleep in my uniform, except for my own jacket, which I left balled up on the floor by my boots. The sheets and comforter are twisted around me.
“Why didn’t you join us for dinner?” he says, untucking and taking off his button-down shirt to reveal his white undershirt.
“I just had a headache. I think it’s the air here or something,” I lie, sitting myself up.
“You’re okay now?” he asks.
“Of course I am. I needed rest, that’s all.”
He sighs and appears to be contemplating, staring towards me, but not really at me.
“Severna,” he begins. Uh-oh. Whenever he uses my full first name, something is up. “I don’t know what you saw today, but everything is okay.”
“Of course it is,” I say. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You know, Severna.” He drops my name again and I get even more uneasy. He knows. He must know, or else he wouldn’t be playing therapist right now. “When I first came to Dolor, I was upset too. So, don’t feel badly.”
“You were not.”
“Alright, fair enough. I wasn’t, but you are.”
“I am not!” I shout.
“Shh! Do want to wake every person in the building?” he says.
“Finn, what the hell is wrong with you?” I demand. “You care that your officers are well rested, but you kill people weaker than you? You kill children and teenage girls? Do you see any hypocrisy at all about that?”
“Okay, obviously you’re a little worked up. Why don’t we talk about this in the morning, because I don’t like dealing with you when you get like this.”
“No! I want to talk about this now! I want to know how you could condemn these people to death, Finn. Would you sentence me to death if I looked at you the wrong way, or said something you didn’t particularly care for, or did whatever they do to deserve that in your eyes?”
“Enough!” he shouts. “Maybe Skinner was right. Maybe you can’t handle it here.” He undoes his tie, all the while shaking his head and mumbling something under his breath as he turns to see himself in the mirror above the sink.
I fall back onto the pillow. The air that was trapped in it poufs when my head hits it. The ceiling is immaculately white, and it annoys me. I feel like I’m in an asylum cell, screaming and screaming with only the nurses to hear me, and they’ve been instructed to ignore me because I’m just a lunatic.
“You could change it,” I say softly. “You’re a good person, Finn. I know you are.”
“What makes you think I’m good?”
“Maybe you’re not, but you’re as good as I am.”
“You’re the one who put these people here,” he breathes under his breath. I bolt up, and immediately he looks apologetic, but it’s too late.
“What?” I demand. “You’re blaming me now? You’re blaming me for this?”
“All I’m saying, is that this isn’t my fault. At least, not entirely. This isn’t any individual’s fault.”
“But you’ll admit it is a fault.”
“I can’t legally admit that, and neither can you.” He washes his hands, probably trying to wipe all the blood away.
“This room-” I begin, about to ask if it’s bugged.
“No,” he cuts me off. “But Hage has ears everywhere.”
“Tell me about it,” I mumble. I roll onto my stomach and burrow my face into the sheets.
The faucet stops. The bathroom light flicks off, and it’s dark. I hear Finn crossing the room.
“Please,” I say, “just tell me you’re not okay with this.”

“I’m not okay with this.” He sits on the edge of the bed, and, before I can stop myself, I wrap both my arms around him from behind. He wears no shirt, something I’m not expecting, but I don’t care. It is such a relief to hear him say that.
“Why did you let that officer have that woman put to death today?” I ask, pressing the side of my head into his shoulder. He touches my cheek with just his fingertips.
“You saw that, huh?”
“I saw that.”
“I let him, for the same reason you let him.”
“Fear?” I say.
“If that was your reason,” he says.
I kiss his cheek, his neck, his shoulder. I wasn’t lying when I said he was a good person. At least, he’s as good a person as I am, whatever that means. He takes my chin in his fingers and brings my lips to his.