“Emotions create greed and chaos. Imagine a world where everyone feels the same. One where no one is saddened or feels inferior to others.” Those words of the Warden echoed in my mind like a knife piercing through my chest. She’s the leader of this world, the one who overlooks every movement, every breath, every silent expression. She could feel every grin, hear every sob, and through her drones, she could strike swiftly and mercilessly. It wasn’t just about control, it was about erasing feelings.
I learned early on how to suppress my thoughts. My mother would press her lips together whenever I’d show any emotion, her eyes narrowing like a hawk. But after my father’s death, her obsession grew. “The Surgery,” she called it, as if the words themselves were a prayer. The Surgery would strip away your ability to cry, laugh, and ultimately, to be yourself.
One night, my father went out with his friends. The other night, he was gone. He had a few drinks and laughed for a mere second. That’s all it took. One emotion, and the drones came—swift as shadows. By the time the sun set that evening, he was nothing but a memory. At least I knew he died, fulfilling his greatest wish—to feel. Just like me, he was against the Warden’s tyranny. I remember his words, “Would you rather live a life emotionless, or die with your heart fulfilled?” He never even met my little brother, who was still in the womb when he got killed.
I hated the thought of it. Hated it more than the way my mother’s eyes grew dull with fear when a tear threatened to escape my eyes. I hated it more than the drones that hovered outside our house, their metallic eyes stalking our every move. I hated the Warden. No. I feared her.
But sometimes, not everything goes the way you planned it to be. A cry shattered the stillness of the house, sharp and piercing. It was my brother. I pushed myself up, the wood creaking beneath me as I made my way up the stairs. My feet staggered, mirroring my anxiety. My stomach seemed to drop.
It was at this moment that I knew I had to silence him. If I don’t, he’s going to die. I can’t let that happen.
I entered my brother’s room, the light from the window casting long shadows on the walls. There he was—barely a year old, face wrinkled with discomfort as he whined in frustration. I looked out and realized he was agitated by a drone outside, hovering like a hungry stray dog. “Shh,” I begged quietly, though I could feel his anxiety seeping into me. “You’re safe.” But my voice quivered, betraying my own uncertainty. Oh my god, how could I make him stop?
For a moment, I simply watched this innocent life who had no idea what was at stake. No idea that every sound that came from him could be his last. I remembered how mom had shown me tricks to calm him—how to rock him, how to sing softly—but none of it felt like it would work. Not today. Not now.
Then it hit me. My mother always said the same thing when I was upset: toys will make you feel better. Maybe, just maybe, if I could make him feel something, he would stop crying.
“Here’s a teddy bear ,” I said, trying to make my voice as soothing as possible. I gently placed the toy next to his crib. At first, he didn’t respond. But then, something changed. His little eyes grew wide with recognition. Suddenly…
A smile. Something I’ve never seen on his face before. A rare expression.
The sight was so pure, so rare and so innocent, that for a second, I forgot where I was. I felt my chest tighten. For a split second, I had forgotten how to fear. And that was when it hit me—my mistake. Damn it. This was supposed to calm him down, not make him laugh.
The smile—the happy, innocent expression—was like a signal. The Warden’s drones didn’t need much. An outburst of emotion in a silent room, and they would come.
My heart slammed against my chest. The room appeared to swallow my body. No—
Too late.
Buzz…
The whir of the drones reached my ears, like the sound of unnatural, mechanical wings. I froze. The walls seemed to close in. Don’t do this…
The drones were faster than I thought. Before I could even reach for my brother, a beam of laser pierced straight through his torso. There was a loud crack, like the snap of a finger, and his smile turned into a desperate cry that was abruptly cut short. Blood trickled down his lifeless fragile body. I froze.
The silence that followed was worse than anything I’d ever experienced. My brother laid in his crib lifeless, eyes rolled back against his skull and blood gushing out of him. All of a sudden, a chilling voice rang in the corner of the room.
“You think you can hide?” The Warden’s voice was smooth, like a brand new machete. “You think you can get away with this?” I turned, and in the doorway stood a tall figure— cloaked in shadow. A faint smirk tugged the corners of bold red lips. Her drones hovered right behind her, their red eyes fixed on me.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to sob. I wanted to ask her why. But I did neither. Not yet.
“Let’s see how long you can contain your emotions,” she taunted, and her smirk widened. And then, despite everything—despite the horror, the terror that filled the room, I couldn’t stop myself.
I chuckled.
It was a quiet, life-changing sound, escaping my lips before I could even contain it.
A laugh. A secret.
And in that laugh… I felt it.
Freedom…
Not because of the pain. Not because of the horror. But because, for the first time, I felt alive.