Glow by Anya Monroe

mind remembers the way I fell asleep last night. Tears had spilled across my face as I realized my choice was stolen from me, how it was never mine to being with.
    We walk to the back of my domed house, where Charlie has tied up Lucky.
    “Want to ride together or…?”
    “Separate,” I say, firm.
    Charlie doesn’t say anything; if he thinks something, he keeps it to himself. He unties another horse, and after putting a saddle across his back hands me the reins.
    We both start riding away from where we came, and where the cowboys are now camped out.
    “Isn’t calling them cowboys kind of anti-feminist?” I ask as we ride stride in stride.
    “I suppose it is. No one’s ever really questioned it, with the end of the world thing happening, no one seemed too worried about being PC.” Charlie smiles looking over at me, and I remember the easy way it was with him, it feels good to not be on guard. “Anyways, cowboys or cowgirls, the whole thing is an outdated term my grandpa made up.”
    I try to come up with new names for the Cowboy Coalition. Rebel Army. Vigilante Vagrants. They sound silly, all of them.
      “You know, I guess it makes sense, you calling the name out like that. You’re all about women’s liberation, right? Not under the thumb of a man. I mean, you were like that,” Charlie says, shooting me a look that he has more to say on the matter.
    “What are you trying to say, Charlie?” I’m in no mood to be manipulated. I’ve had my fill the past twenty-four hours.
    “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Since the day I met you, freedom has been the one thing ringing in my ears when you speak.”
    I don’t argue. Freedom has been the single cry of my heart.
    “I just find it strange then,” Charlie continues. “How you leave for The Light and suddenly are promised to be Bound after only few weeks with my brother.”
    I can tell Charlie’s worked up and I’ve never seen him this way. Even when he shot those men in defense of my mom, he kept his cool. He’s never been so animated before. I don’t like it.
    “And then I leave after Perfection for one day, and I come back to this. You and Lukas declaring your freaking Rainbow Children theory.”
    I pull the horse I’m riding to a stop. I feel attacked, and it’s not what I need right now. He has no idea how the strumming inside of me feels off key. No idea how all of this doesn’t sit right with me, either. But he hasn’t even asked. He just accuses.
    “In one day, Lucy, you decide to forfeit everything you want. For what? For Lukas? You hardly even know the guy!”
    “Stop it, Charlie,” I plead. My spirit is in no place to be treated this way. I feel weak, and I want to feel strong. Beating me down isn’t going to help me, or him, or help anything. It just makes me feel fragile and broken and alone.
    “I didn’t forfeit anything,” I tell him. “My life wasn’t mine to begin with. I’m just a vessel for a bigger plan. And for the record, you know nothing about Lukas and me and what we have. If you spent half as much time talking as you have accusing you might learn a thing or two.”
    I pull the horse into a gallop and fly away from him.
    I hear him yell in the distance, but not for me. He yells because he’s spent his life with a liberty I’ve only read about in books.
    And as much as I wish it were different, it isn’t.
    We are too different to ever understand one another.
    His motives for freedom are different than mine.
    It’s the only way he knows, and for me, it’s the Pandora’s Box I’m desperate to open.
     

27.
     
    Charlie
     
    “Bullshit.” It’s a word Reagan always used. And it’s the first thing that comes to mind as Lukas rambles on about destiny, prophets, and fate. What about free freaking will?
    “It isn’t crazy, Charles. If you would just look at the book, you would understand what Junie’s been showing us. Don’t reject it without even trying to understand.” He sits down on the couch,