I Am Mustafin

My name is Alaki Bea Miller—or in the world above: Alaki Bea X.

That is what us, the inferior, are referred to: X.

You think you understand until you’re living it. You don’t get just how little they think of you until you’re kneeling before them, beaten and battered.

The cold, unforgiving marble of the courtroom floor bites into my knees, sending shivers up my spine. The harsh fluorescent lights beat down on me, making me feel exposed, vulnerable. Five pairs of eyes bore into me from above, each set belonging to a Ringleader—the masters of our fractured world.

The air in the courtroom is stifling, thick with tension and the cloying scent of expensive cologne—a luxury reserved for the elite. My throat is dry, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth as I try to swallow my fear. The taste of copper lingers—remnants of the beating I endured before being dragged here.

After the third war, the governments collapsed. Countries occupied by millions of human beings were bombed, destroyed, leaving unseen forces that forbid us from ever stepping onto another land apart from the only one saved, the only one not destroyed: Serenity.

But Serenity is anything but serene for those of us who don’t belong.

Five million humans remained and were divided into five Rings, each human classified by their physical attributes. The pure-bloods became the superior and the forbidden children, conceived by two of different races, were seen as inferior—an abomination that threatens their fragile system.

Diallo, Santos, Talos, Wen, and Mustafin: the five Rings that dictate our fates.

I am no leader and I am no special kind of half-blood—as they call us. I am but a mere human being…just like the rest of us. But here, on my knees, I am less than human. I am a subject that needs to be controlled, a thing that needs disposing of.

The Arbiter’s voice cuts through the tense silence of the courtroom, each word hammering nails in my coffin. “Gentlemen, we’ve reached a decision. Subject Alaki Bea X will be taken under the sole custody of Ringleader Mustafin to be kept as property.”

Property.

The word echoes in my mind, each repetition a fresh blow to my already battered spirit.

How did I get here..?

My mind races, trying to piece together the events that led to this moment, to the choices that landed me here.

| I Am Mustafin |

The heel of my combat boots clicks against the echoey tunnels, the musty scent of damp earth filling my nostrils. Cool air sends a shiver down my spine as I walk deeper into our underground sanctuary.

Dim bulbs flicker overhead, casting long shadows on the weed-covered walls. Ahead, I can see my friends, Antonio and Miya, approaching with an uneasy look on their faces.

“What's going on?” I ask, my voice steady despite the tension in the air.

Maya’s dark eyes meet mine, a slight tremor in her voice. “Someone tried to get in…”

“We just got back from above,” Antonio adds, his broad shoulders tense. “There’s evidence of digging on the other side.”

Miya parts her lips to speak again, an urgent look on her face, when a husky voice interrupts from behind. “Well, whoever it was, they’re gone now.” I turn to see Jeremy moving toward us, his calm demeanor almost reassuring.

This is why he’s part of the leadership—a sound voice in the midst of our inevitable demise.

Miya hands Jeremy a pack of needles, her worried smile a reminder of the worry looming over us all: Briannah’s recovery.

“Is she going to be okay?” Miya asks softly.

“Don’t you worry about that now,” Jeremy’s voice is soft, steady. He offers her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, shooting an all-too familiar look at Antonio.

She’s getting worse.

Antonio recognizes it, and lets out a heavy sigh, moving to Miya where he throws his arm around her. “Alrighty,” he ushers her down the tunnel, his voice all faux nonchalance, “let's get going.”

I shoot them a small smile as they take off, leaving me standing alone with the weed covered walls and a well composed Jeremy. I have to give him credit for his impeccable ability to remain calm and hopeful through all of this.

Briannah’s his girlfriend, for four years now.

“I have arranged a meeting for later today,” Jeremy states abruptly.

“Oh?” I muse.

I’m not sure why he’s bringing this up with me—I’m not part of the leadership group.

He sighs with an irritable look on his face, crossing his arms just beneath his chest. “I would like for you to attend this time.”

Don’t you always?

“I told you,” I breathe out in exasperation, shaking my head, “I’m not interested.”

His hazel-green eyes look at me once-over, lingering on my curly hair and navy blue t-shirt. “You already carry yourself like a leader. Why are you so keen on being just like everybody else?”

The truth is that I don’t want to be responsible for anyone. Yes, I do—from time to time—go out of my way to do more than I have to, but that is because I want to. Agreeing to take on that kind of responsibility means being held accountable when things go south.

Yeah…no, thanks.

“I’m just not interested, Jeremy,” I say finally, my tone brooking no argument. With that, I turn to look down the dead end of the tunnel, studying it. I’m more interested in whoever attempted to find their way in.

Jeremy seems to understand that, and a moment later, I hear his footsteps receding. I linger on the spot a while longer, just briefly turning my head to eye the ten-foot-high and five-foot-wide hole that Antonio and Miya used to return into the tunnels.

I guess it really works.

I slip my hands into my pockets following behind Jeremy silently, lost in thought. These tunnels, our refuge, run twenty miles long, connecting to each sector above ground. It’s not easy finding your way in here, but once you do, it’s hard to forget.

I reach the center market, watching families go about their day. It’s a happy place, where we offer what we can and help where we’re needed. A form of capitalism, as they called it in the old world.

Finally, I reach my destination: Briannah’s cob house. I come to a stop at the doorless entrance, my knuckles rapping against the hard clay. After a moment, I peek my head inside, hearing the familiar voice of Doctor Caleb echo, “Come in.”

Doctor Caleb, the sweet middle aged man with the brain of a genius. He’s one of the rare few that were born and raised above ground and was later sentenced to death for his unforgivable crime: he fornicated with a woman of a different Ring.

With cautious steps, I silently enter the well-kept home, moving until I meet Briannah’s bedroom.

My arms are crossed just beneath my chest as I lean my shoulder against the wall, catching the gaze of the red-haired man who glances back at me. While he tends to a now bed-bound Briannah, I notice Jeremy out of the corner of my eye. He stands on the far left side of the room with a bleak look on his face.

Though he likes to pretend as if he isn’t worried in the slightest, I know better than anyone that this is killing him inside.

Briannah’s cough breaks the silence, blood staining the white towel Caleb holds to her mouth. My heart races as I watch, helpless.

“It’s alright,” Caleb says softly, bringing a cup of water to her lips. “Get some rest,” he tells her as he carefully positions her head back on the pillow. With this, he quickly gathers his tools and nods for the exit, motioning for Jeremy and me to follow.

“What’s wrong with her, Caleb?” Jeremy asks, his voice rough like gravel.

Caleb sighs as he turns to the both of us, a thoughtful look on his hard features. “The good news is that she is going to be okay,” he reassures and almost instantly, a wave of relief washes over us.

“However,” he adds as he hands Jeremy a hand-written piece of paper, “she is going to need medicine. What has been causing her headaches, fever, and the coughing of blood is a sinus infection.”

At the mere mention of medicine, Jeremy and I turn to look at each other, knowing that the responsibility is going to fall on one of us.

“One of you will have to make the trip.” Caleb shoots Jeremy and I one last look before he walks away, leaving us to decide amongst ourselves.

Although it’s true that from time to time some of us take the risk of leaving these walls to get a breath of fresh air or hunt for food other than the vegetables and fruit that grow in the large greenhouse back in old Phil's place, it’s dangerous.

I have only been out of the tunnels a few times in my life but I have never gone out with the intention to go into town, much less for a purchase at a crowded store. Jobs like that are typically left to the others who live here and hardly look like half-bloods or aren’t half-bloods at all.

Unfortunately, a job like this calls for someone who is willing to put their life on the line for someone they care about. And for Briannah, it’s me or Jeremy.

“I’ll go,” Jeremy decides without hesitation.

I scoff, arguing, “No, you won’t.”

His brows furrow as I snatch the paper from his hand. “You have a meeting to attend,” I mutter before he can protest, and as I turn away from him, he grips my upper-arm, pulling me back.

At first, I expect him to fight me for it. But to my surprise, he doesn’t seem to want to. Instead his voice trails off as he says, “Alaki, don’t go alone. If you get caught…”

“I know, Jeremy,” I breathe out, pulling out of his grip. “I know.”

I know his reasons for backing down. He has far more to lose than I do. But beyond that, if anyone were in a situation where they were caught, I would be the perfect subject: I know exactly what and what not to do.

With that, I make my way to my next stop: Old Morris’ place, across the market center.

“Morris?” I call as I approach the Jade keeper stand, my eyes briefly scanning the nearly empty grounds as families retire for the evening.

“Alaki!” Morris greets as he stands from the large rock he had been sitting, approaching the wooden counter. His large blue eyes meet my own, kindly asking, “What can I getcha?”

I smile at the sight of the wholehearted old man. I’ve known him all of my life and it almost seems as if he never changes—inside and out. The same old gray hair covers his chin and jawline, and not a single bald spot serves to ruin that perfectly fully-haired head of his.

“I need to go buy medicine for Briannah,” I explain.

“How is she?”

If there is anyone who knows everyone, it’s Morris. He runs the underground diamond mine and sells the product across Serenity. He’s known for being the largest producer of gems across all Sectors. He’s one of the few who were born and raised above ground, like Doctor Caleb. The only difference is that Morris isn’t wanted for a crime. He’s just a lot like a mafia boss—selling illegally mined gems in exchange for seemingly unlimited currency, minus the violence.

“She’s going to be okay,” I say softly. “Caleb says she has a sinus infection?”

“Ah, yes…” Morris nods. “Those can get pretty nasty.”

He reaches for a small crossbody burlap bag and draws his hand into the large box beneath the counter. He draws a couple of Jade bills and slips them into the bag, offering me a smile as he hands it to me.

“Here you are. Threw in a little extra in case you get hungry.”

Yeah…that’s not gonna happen.

I thank him kindly, securing the strap across my torso, the bag hanging right at my hip

“It is always my pleasure, sweetie.”

With that, I begin my way out of the market. But before I’m too far gone, I hear Morris call.

“Eh! You got anyone to go with you?”

I halt in my tracks, my breath caught in my lungs. When I turn around, I find him standing next to a dark-skinned teenage boy. His head clean-shaven, he could easily pass as a valid Ring member, if it wasn't for those damning hazel-green eyes.

“This is Marcus,” Morris introduces. “He’s a good kid and hasn’t been out in years. He should help you blend right in.”

As if on cue, Marcus slips on a pair of shades. Contemplating, I study him, his composure, his clothing. Between the combat boots, the black cargo pants, and the white t-shirt, the shades seal the deal.

Well, he’s not wrong.

“Alright,” I say. “Let’s go.”