Layne sat on the kitchen floor wet with alcohol and blood. A mobile phone in his hand, its screen lit with the emergency number in display, yet he hesitated to press the call button.

It was too late, anyway.

His father sat against the counter, one could have through that he had drunkenly fallen asleep, but Layne had already checked. Right next to him, his mother, with her own pocketknife still stuck in between her ribs. Her life had just faded away. If only her son would have been faster to call the ambulance, perhaps she could have been saved.

The phone's screen turned dark one more time. Layne didn't bother turning it on again. Instead, he threw it across the room into the tiled wall. The glass screen cracked in the process and the device tumbled into the bloody mess.

The main door opened with a bang, to which Layne flinched and pressed his knees closer to his chest. Something rumbled at the hall. What sounded like a pair of shoes were tossed away and some heavy bags dropped on the floor.

"Hey, hope you haven't-" Levi froze at the kitchen door. His face turned pale, he seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

"Levi," whispered his little brother and dug his forehead into his knees.

"Layne. What'd you do?"

"I don't know." He kept blinking, time from time – squeezing his eyes together tightly, trying to stop the tears. "I- I don't know."

Levi shook his head and took a step back. He grasped for the door, his look still fixated onto his brother. Then, he slammed it.

"Levi!" Layne jumped up just to fall back down again, staining his skin, hair and clothes in both liquids found on the floor. The injured foot stung with pain. "Levi, wait."

The lack of footsteps or any other sound indicated that Levi might have remained on the other side of the door. Layne crawled across the room and sat beside it.

"I messed up," he whispered. "So badly."

Even if his older brother was still around, he did not respond. The silence was making Layne shake in desperation.

"I didn't mean it- I didn't know it'd end like this."

Once again, he received no reply. He thought he could hear someone breathing rapidly outside the room. Sometimes – sobbing.

Their parents' corpses looked almost like a couple of dolls, dropped down in weird poses in the middle of a playtime. Layne saw them even when he closed his eyes. It appeared that he would never be able to remember those people in any other way. To think he's spent all those years avoiding them. It might have been for the better – if he would have kept doing that longer, perhaps they'd still be alive.

The time passed slower than ever before. Before, a hot summer day at the construction site with no available shade used to look like a nightmare. Now, Layne wished he could repeat every one of those just to avoid being in that kitchen. Behind the door, Levi whispered something. It was clear it wasn't meant for Layne.

"Levi?" Layne scooted closer to the door, trying to hear. "Levi, what are you doing?"

He kept on talking. Layne died down inside when he realised what was going on.

"It was an accident!" he yelled. "I didn't do it!"

He clutched down the door handle. Something was blocking the exit. Someone was blocking the exit. Layne forced it open with Levi jumping aside and putting his phone back into his pocket.

"You reported it."

Levi nodded. With those wide, red, horror filled eyes, he didn't look like the same person anymore. It crossed Layne's mind that he must have looked even worse. Like a murderer.

Injured, weighted with guilt and grief, Layne allowed himself to drop down on the floor one more time. His big brother followed him with his eyes before taking a few steps back. Neither of them said a word to each other. Layne did not know what was there left to say.

It didn't take long before a car pulled into the driveway. A doorbell shook the room and Layne's heartbeat accelerated. Levi faltered across the hall but stopped just as he was about to let the visitors in.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and opened the door.

There were three of them outside. All men, all in simple grey suits, each wearing an unsettling cold expression. Carriers, as they were unofficially called. They stepped inside one after another and looked around – all of their gazes stopping upon the man with blood stains all over, sitting on the floor.

"Good evening," one of them greeted, no emotion to be found in his voice. "We're from the RCI. We were reported of homicide in this address."

Levi nodded towards the kitchen door and one of the men walked over there. He examined the scene with the same expressionless face. It wasn't clear if that was because he has seen similar views a lot before or if he was just an emotionless dick. The other two men talked to Levi with hushed voices, time from time giving Layne a glare or two.

"What's your version?" The tallest of the Carriers addressed Layne.

"Mum always carried a knife with her. They got drunk. Started fighting. She killed him. Accidentally," he whispered with a pause after every other word.

"And what? She killed herself or something?"

Layne shook his head. "I tried to take away the knife. She was resisting and-"

"And, you killed her?"

He didn't respond. Just seeing the officers' faces it was clear that even if he tried to defend himself, Layne has already been condemned. He always knew that the law enforcement system was flawed in Eumain. Although the RCI denied it, everyone knew there were no trials nor investigations held for a very long time. The RCI didn't need those. They looked for every chance to get rid of those not good enough for their perfect nation.

"What's your name?"

"Layne Marks."

"Well, get up. Let's go talk someplace else."

"Can I get dressed?"

They exchanged glances and nodded in agreement. Layne forced himself to stand up, and flinched when the pain shot through his foot again. Not thinking too much, he slipped into his shoes and grabbed his father's bomber jacket. It was too big for him in every way but rolling up the sleeves somewhat made it work.

Layne complied with a deep breath when he was cuffed. Didn't resist when put in the car – just as grey as the suits the men were wearing. His brother walked outside and through the vehicle's window, they exchanged meaningless looks.

One of the RCI men used a phone – presumably to call someone else to the scene. Layne didn't care about any of that anymore. Everything from losing his job to his parents' corpses on the floor looked like nothing more than a bad dream.

No way everything could have happened to him. He was, after all, just an ordinary person. Something like that could be found in the news. It doesn't actually happen to you.

The car drove along the empty roads, electricity powered engine working without a sound. Perfect environment to think, which was what Layne hated about it the most. He did his best to focus on anything else but the events that just took place. Staring through the window helped, even if just a little.

There was always a peculiar charm about this neighbourhood Layne grew up in. The narrow streets, houses painted in colourful pastels, the peace and quiet. Places like that were a treasure of Eumain, especially as there were so little of them left. Layne glanced blankly from one streetlamp to another, yet counting them did not nothing to soothe the nerves.

The small suburban houses transitioned into menacing high-rises. Bustling traffic, lights on every corner, neon signs and billboards. That was the environment Layne had lived in for the past few years. He was almost glad this was likely the last time he'd be there.

They stopped at the inner parking lot of one of the most modern buildings around. On top of it, the words "Rejection Carrying Institution" glowed in big neon letters. As if that was a bar or a supermarket or some sort of tourist attraction. Layne had always thought that the RCI just wanted to remind the people of the fate of the Rejected in any means possible. Day and night. Whenever they come close to this heavily hated building.

"Out you go." One of the Carriers opened the car door and pulled Layne out before he grasped it.

"Impolite," Layne noted in a formal intonation.

Instead of an answer, he was pushed roughly in his back. The men rushed him into the building, nudging his shoulders whenever he slowed down, humouring his aching foot.

To Layne's surprise, the inside of the building was bright and smelled of coffee. Soft corporate music played in the background, people in grey suits strolled around with document folders or just steaming paper cups. Layne had imagined something that would resemble a torture dungeon instead.

Two of the RCI officers went off alone. The last one pushed Layne's back. He reacted in a displeased stare, but obliged the obvious command. Upon leading him to another busy hall, he pointed to a white plastic chair.

"Sit," he said.

Layne did exactly that, happy to be able to take the pressure off his wound. The officer left, still, the man knew he was being watched by all the people coming in and out of the many doors. The whole situation reminded him of waiting for the doctor's appointment, down from the white and grey walls to the rising heartbeat and limbs growing numb.

Soon enough, an elderly man stopped beside one of the close-by doors. "Marks?"

Layne nodded.

The man unlocked the door and opened it wide. "Come in."

The coffee scent intensified as Layne stepped through the door. A quick glance around only revealed a dull desk and a bunch of filing cabinets. That was the first office Layne had seen that didn't have any personal belongings nor decoration of the person working there.

"Please, sit down." The RCI employee motioned to a chair before sitting down on the other side of the desk. "My name's Davis Rivers."

Layne slumped onto the chair and interlocked his fingers. He studied Rivers' face which appeared just as cold as all those grey-suited men he saw before. However, Davis then let out a slight, encouraging smile.

"So why don't you tell me what happened?" he inquired.

Layne turned his eyes away from him and scoffed.

"Not a very talkative one, are you?"

"I just saw my parents die," Layne snapped.

"Yeah, that's what I've been told," Rivers continued, unfazed. "Are you not going to defend yourself?"

Layne narrowed his eyes. The man's calm voice was infuriating him. The question – even more so. He was aware of how little defending himself would help him. After all, there was a reason no one was there to tell the tale of almost being rejected.

"It's alright," said Rivers. "Only makes my job easier."

"I bet."

Davis took out a form from a drawer and started filling it in. "Don't have anything else you want to talk about while I finish with this?"

"Yeah, sure." Layne shrugged. "Since I'm here already, you could like, finally tell me what do you guys do with the Rejects."

"I can only tell you as much as the public knows."

"What, that 'the Rejects are not being executed and have a chance at survival'? You know how much bullshit that is?" His voice rose. "What's the point of such secrecy, anyway? Are you scared of something?"

"No."

"'No'? That is all you're gonna say?"

"Yes."

"Seriously?" Layne jumped up just to drop back down once his wound stung from the sudden pressure.

"Please control yourself."

"Fuck you and all you've said right now. Doing who-knows-what with people and not even being honest about it."

"Done ranting?"

"Yeah."

"Great. I'm just about done here, too."