Free Chosen Ones by Tiffany Truitt

one bomb dropped, the men from overseas killed millions and destroyed the majority of our military. The majority died from the bomb itself. Others from radiation poisoning. Others from starvation. Our government took too long to bring supplies and relief to those living in the heartland. Our country fell apart.
    Fearing complete anarchy, people began to band together. Temporary, makeshift governments came into power. We were no longer a unified country, but rather a series of colonies fighting for a sense of safety. Some men thought it would be best to rebuild, form a newer, stronger government. There were countless meetings among the colonies, which never amounted to much. Some wanted to rebuild the government according to the doctrines that the United States was founded on. Others said the previous system was corrupted and we needed a new form of government. There was a lot of in-fighting and more violence.
    I wonder sometimes why my parents decided to bring me into such a world of chaos. And yet, I did the same to you.
    The only thing anyone could agree on was a need for stability. After years of talks and a few violent flare-ups between the warring factions of our country, a treaty was created. Our country would no longer pretend it could come together. Easterners. Westerners. The Middlelands were left to themselves. No one chose to settle there except those who wanted no government at all.
    Westerners like my parents understood the need for some sort of government, an agency meant to serve the people’s interests and band us together behind a common belief system. Except our government refused to be called a government. Instead, we were a council. Somehow the term made it seem less intrusive.
    Ironic, huh?
    My parents held strongly onto their faith in this new system. I wasn’t allowed to question. When the council took control over the media I remember asking why, and my father slapped me hard across the face. He got all red and mumbled something about me not knowing a damn thing about freedom or what happens when someone tries to take it from you.
    I can’t trust the council. Something inside won’t let me. Who am I supposed to despise more? The Easterners who attack our land? The Middlelanders who seek out the wild? Or my own government? I just feel a fight coming on. I think you feel it, too, Tess. And that scares the living hell out of me. Part of me wishes you were nothing like me.
    I did something stupid today. I volunteered to work at one of the new training centers for the chosen ones. It’s decent money, and the best job I could hope to get. Also, I want to know more about them, and what better way than to work there?
    Who knows if you will ever read this. I hope you never have a reason, but you probably will.
    I never wanted to be a father. Mostly because I somehow knew I wouldn’t be around for you. I’ve been waiting my whole life for a fight.
    ~ Dad

Chapter 9
    I was shaking. Somehow I could hear my father’s voice as I read his letter. Ten years later, I could still hear him. It was yet another reminder of all the things I kept locked away. I knew my people’s history, but sometimes it was easier to let the council rewrite it all.
    I couldn’t change the council or this life. My father was wrong—I wasn’t strong enough to be the kind of fighter he thought I was. The only thing I wanted to defeat was my own weak self. And I couldn’t even do that lately.
    I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. And then I waited for whatever was going to come next.
    When I sensed it was near morning, I crept out of the room and headed toward the showers. I hoped the rest of the compound would still be asleep. I needed just a little more time to myself.
    I turned the water as hot as I could get it. It burned, and I found comfort in the pain. It was strange that sitting in the shower, the blazing heat causing my naked skin to erupt in blotches of red, I thought of Emma. My sister. The girl my father said was