Chapter 1

Upon being asked the question “How did the revolution begin?” I have always responded with “When teenagers began to think for themselves.” In all seriousness though, I suppose there isn’t one single event that we could pin point, after all teenagers have been around for millenniums. It was always destined to happen at some point or another. At least that’s what I’ve been taught. If it had to begin with a certain point in time, which all stories must, I would say that it was when the council was formed. The four. In 2016 when J, 9, C and Blink met.
J was in his first fifteen year when the stated out. A genius. Without him, nothing would have happened (although, it is then that I wonder, whether we should curse him for it) The boy had everything that a boy of this age could possibly want, a brain so highly advanced that he could solve equations almost as fast as a calculator, great looks that girls would fall for, an incredible body, and of course wisdom and experience. What he didn’t have was friends or family. His parents constantly neglected him, and so did the majority of the kids around him. This was probably due to the fact that as he seemed like the perfect person, others were intimidated and scared of J and his abilities. Being completely alone until meeting my brother, he began to experiment, I still have no idea what his original idea was but that is unimportant, for with a slip of the formula, he came up with the Antidote. A concoction so powerful and unique that it kept your physical body in it’s same state for at least 20 years.
9 was in her first year of sixteen. Her parents had sent her off to join the militia for a 3 year intensive when she was 14. No wall could hold 9, and a year and a half later she escaped. Not because she wasn’t strong enough for the camp but, in my opinion because it wasn’t strong enough for her.
C was the mute one. His history was probably the saddest out of all of the council, which is why he never spoke. Though he never spoke, he had to be one of the most helpful of the four. He was organized and most of the basic ideas came from him. When you spoke, he had such an intent look, as though you were the most important thing to him and there was nothing else he’d rather be doing then listen to you.
Blink was 17. He wasn’t the appointed leader, but because his views were so well expressed, he automatically came off as the leader. He was brave, good-looking, trustworthy, but most importantly my brother.

My life started off as normal as the next person. My family was normal. We had our differences but they were resolved through unconditional love and patience. My father was a doctor and my mother was a teacher. My older brother was almost 3 years older then I, and although we had our differences, in many ways we shared them. He never hid anything from me. That is until I turned eleven, that’s when everything changed…
One summer day around mid-July, upon passing my brother’s bedroom I heard him shuffling around behind the closed door. As all little sisters are, I was filled with curiosity and decided it was at that moment that I needed to find out was he was up to. The door was slightly opened so my tiny hands pushed the rest of the door open silently so that my brother wouldn’t notice my coming in. Upon opening the door all I found, to my dismay was that I held a black garbage bag in his hands and was putting in a few odds and ends such as lead pencils and spiral notebooks. The bag was already half full with more things that, at the time, I automatically assumed was garbage.
“What are you doing?” I asked, watching my brother jump in alarm.
“Nothing.” He mumbled “Just tiding up my room a bit.” He got up and began pushing me out his bedroom door. I didn’t understand why he would be throwing our perfectly fine pencils but of course I didn’t question it, being only eleven and having other concerns on my mind.
Despite the fact, that I didn’t really care enough to ask about it again, nor tell anyone about the moment, I think that I remembered this moment because it was around this time that my family’s life style became very different. My brother had changed almost instantly, emotionally scaring my parents at every opportunity he had. Constantly yelling at my mother and father, telling them that they had no say in his personal life, and that their lack of interest in his life was disgusting. Constantly telling them that I was in their favor and not he. Even now I wonder if he knew how badly it hurt them.
Sometimes my father dismissed it as a “teenage phase” my brother was going through.
“He’ll get over it soon enough.” He would say over confidently to my mother but there never was a change. My parents tried to do everything they could to change his attitude, but there was something about his mind set, that wouldn’t listen to anything that they had to say. Eventually we would see less and less of my brother. He would be gone for a weekend, and then one week he never came over, claiming that he was at a friend’s house. It was at that point where even my dad had to put his foot down. My brother was punished a number of times, not that any of the retributions actually worked, but the point that I’m trying to emphasize is that my parents tried their best to be good parents. Never had I seen my family so unhappy. There were days when I’d go to bed, trying my best to remember a time when my family was happy. When I couldn’t remember, I’d fall asleep to the sound of tears rolling down my face.

Two years and three months later, October 11th 2020, was the night that I was woken up by my brother and his dream.