Blood thrummed through my veins. My heart was pumping fast; my breathing rapid. I had to warn them. They were coming. Stumbling into the broken-down warehouse, I vocalized my concern.

"They're coming! The Projects!" I leaned over to catch my breath.

Placing my hands on my knees I willed the air into my lungs. It was quite the distance to sprint for someone in their thirties.

Finally, I managed to say, "They will come here first. We have to go into hiding," I paused to look at the face of my beautiful red-headed daughter, "The resistance has to live on."

After my urgent cries, the concourse dispersed. In a frenzy, we were packing our belongings as we prepared to leave the place we would no longer call home. The Project Purge Initiative had already claimed my husband. I could not let the same thing happen to my daughter.

"Hope, you and Atlas need to run. Now," I reached for my daughter's arms urgently, "They will take him before they take you. Keep each other safe." I was holding back the waterfall behind my eyes. I watched as my daughter nodded confidently. She hugged my neck tightly and I squeezed back, too scared to release. We parted reluctantly and she ran to Atlas. My blistering eyes met his icy blue ones. He gave me a stern nod. No words were spoken as they made their departure, but no words had to be said.

That nod was a silent promise: I will protect your daughter

After their forms disappeared through the back entrance, I broke down. All of the frustration and sadness flooded through my body. My heart ached as I thought of my husband's face. The uncertainty of our future and my child's loomed over my body. It was a weight pressing on me, crushing me, as I let my tears flow.

I never let myself go like this. I was always the strong one. I was the leader of the Resistance, after all. My voice was one to be heard. That wouldn't stop now. I dried my tears and picked myself up. It was time to fight. I readied my self for battle. Our young and our men were sent away and our formation was assumed. The front line of the Resistance was going to be tested.

Just as we prepped for the inevitable attack, the doors caved inward. They were here. Before we could charge into the hoard of black-clad PI guards, our ranks were brought to their knees by canisters of gas. It was sleeping gas. Only now could I see the gas masks on the guards' sour faces.

A single tear slipped from my eye. It was not a tear of loss, but a tear of joy. It wasn't over. The truth was out there. Hope was free. My vision began to fade and I let four simple words leave my lips. It was the truth and it would taunt the guards' thoughts.

"The Resistance lives on."