My name is Henley Lennox and I was born in Prospect One. Meaning I was born with the privilege that comes with having “Prospect One” stamped on your identification papers. The people of Prospect One have permission to roam freely through all five prospects because they control everything. They control the food supply, they control the jobs, and most importantly, they control the people.
I was so lucky to have been born in Prospect One because my father, Harrison Lennox, is the Overlord. Although my father’s official job title is “Overlord,” he doesn’t really do much; but no one else knows that. Only my father knows who controls the real government and soon I will too. The title of “Overlord” will be bestowed upon me in less than a year, when I am 18 years of age, and at that point I will be the new face of all five Prospects.
The jobs and responsibilities of each Prospect vary. All of the wealthy and posh people reside in Prospect One, so they don’t really do much to be honest. They just consume the goods made by the other Prospects and tell them what to do. The people of Prospect One instil fear into the rest of the population in order to convince them that their jobs are worth doing. In Prospect Two, the people are responsible for healthcare. In Prospect Three, the people tend to citywide maintenance and in Prospect Four, they maintain the transportation system, while Prospect Five is agriculture and food production.
The Prospects are organized in concentric rings surrounding Prospect One and at the very edge of Prospect Five there is a drop off - everyone calls it “The Edge.” My father told me that the world was laid out the way it was to protect us; that we would always be safe because anyone who would try to hurt our home would have to get over The Edge and through each Prospect before they would reach us, and by that point we would have had enough time to escape.
He was explaining all of this to me on the train. It was the first time I had left the security of my home and the first time I had left Prospect One. I must have been ten. I remember looking out the window as we rushed through Prospect Two. It looked very similar to Prospect One. The buildings were made of glass and steel, and the sky was filled with dark clouds that engulfed the tops of the tallest buildings. We went past a group of people who were huddled together in front of one of the tall buildings. They wore gray slacks and a pale blue polo. I thought it was funny that they were all dressed the same. I remember laughing and pointing at them through the window, asking my father why they looked like that. Little did I know, it was only going to get worse.
Prospect Three was darker. The air reeked of the vile scent of garbage and it somehow felt colder. Buildings were crumbling and there were people in the streets crying out in pain. I asked my father what was wrong, and he told me to stop looking. But I couldn’t. Their eyes were sunken into their skulls, mouths agape. Some were fully clothed while others were only in tattered pieces of fabric. They looked like they hadn’t eaten in days, let alone bathed. I felt a hot tear trickle down my face and quickly went to wipe it away before my father saw. I didn’t understand why we weren’t helping these people. I began to ask my father, but he stopped me.
“Henley!” his voice boomed. “I told you to stop asking me questions. These people are getting what they deserve. They are low-life pieces of trash, son. Our kind cannot associate with their kind. Why do you think we even have the borders? It’s to keep people like this out!”
“Yes Sir,” I answered. I nodded and pretended like I understood. But I didn’t then and I still don’t. From that day on, I have told myself that when I am Overlord, I will change things.
* * *
It all started when I was on an errand for my father. I had to travel into Prospect Three to deliver a message. Usually he didn’t let me leave our house, but after hours of begging him he decided that I was capable of adequately completing the job for him.
As I approached the border that led into Prospect Three, I saw him. His hair was jet black and styled away from his forehead. His pale skin brought out his dark blue eyes that were busy staring at the black combat boots attached to his long legs.  His dilapidated leather jacket hung loosely on his thin frame and opened up to a bleached white t-shirt that practically blended in with his ghastly complexion.
My heart fluttered and my feet stopped moving. I stared at the figure that was rapidly approaching the same border entrance I was standing at. As he got closer, he glanced up and met my prying eyes.
“Boy, state your number!”
We both jumped and turned to the voice that had interrupted our thoughts.
The boy abruptly turned away and bowed his head as he faced the guard.
“Yes Sir. 00782351,” he solemnly remarked.
“Go through.”
My attention was fixed on their interaction as my heart continued to flutter against my chest. I stared at the boy as he passed through the gate that led into Prospect Three, and made an incredibly rash decision to follow him. I scrambled to get my pass out of my blue jeans and shoved it in front of the guards face. Before he had time to protest, I rushed through the gate and glanced around looking for the boy with black hair and blue eyes.
I was standing in the middle of the street franticly searching for him when I felt an icy hand brush up against mine. I turned to face the owner of said hand and was met with the familiar sight of bold blue eyes and slicked-back black hair.
“Come with me,” he whispered into my ear. “But don’t follow too closely. It’s not safe.” He turned away and swiftly walked further into Prospect Three, quickly glancing over his shoulder to confirm that I was following him.
I started to run after him before remembering his instructions and halted to a stop; glancing at my non-existent watch, I pretended like I was doing something important. I then continued to follow him from a safer distance, keeping my eyes glued to the back of his head.
After walking for what felt like miles, he turned a final corner and stopped. We both stood facing each other. He roughly grabbed my face with his raw, calloused hands and I watched his eyes scan my face.
“Who are you?” he whispered, as if people were listening to us at this very moment.
“I should ask you the same thing. Why are you being so quiet anyway? I’m allowed to be here and- ,”
“Shh! Don’t you know?”
“Wh-what are you talking about?”
“They put people like us in prison. They starve and torture and kill people like us. How could you not know this?”
“I - I don’t know, nobody has ever told me,” I stammered. “Why would they do that?” My eyes burned. I felt the all too familiar feel of tears forming behind my eyelids as I struggled to blink them away.
“In school, the teachers tell us that hundreds of years ago, people like us, or as they call us, ‘people of sin’ had too much control or something, so they started killing us. They killed us because we were different, and because we were ‘choosing a life of sin,’ at least that’s what I’ve been told,” he shrugged.
“Is that why all of this started,” I said. “ and why everyone is segregated and afraid?”
“I guess so,” he sighed.
“I just don’t understand,” I murmured, as the tears that I had been holding back slowly started making their way down my face. The boy looked at me, his eyes now a darker shade of cobalt, were filled with pain. He placed his rough hand into mine for a brief moment, then released it. He swiftly glanced around before leaning in, closer to my face. I felt his warm breath against my neck, and his frigid hand against my cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed into my ear. “You shouldn’t have had to find out like that.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m glad I know now, I just wish I could change something.”
“Me too,” he sighed. As he slowly backed up, his hand lingered on my face for just a few moments. I leaned into it, remembering the rough, calloused texture that somehow brought me comfort.
“I have to go now,” he muttered.
“Wait, can we meet again? I promise no one will find out.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. “I really want to but- ,”
“Please,” I interrupted. “We won’t get caught. If someone sees us talking, we’ll just tell them that we are friends from school of something.”
“Fine. But I’m making the plans. I know of a lot of good hideouts around here. Just meet me at the border in three days. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, sounds good,” I smiled. As he began to turn away I grabbed his elbow and pulled him closer to me. “You never told me your name,” I coaxed, hoping he wouldn’t be upset by my statement.
“It’s Acer; I don’t believe you ever told me yours either,” he said, leaning in to my hold.
“It’s Henley,” I spoke, smiling at his gesture.
“I’ll see you in three days,” Acer grinned as he turned away, leaving me by myself with a dumbstruck expression on my face.
* * *
Acer and I have been meeting at different locations in Prospect Three for five months now. I had to sneak out of my room late at night to meet him at because my father stopped letting me leave the house.
Tonight was no different then than the past nights. I shoved a blanket, half a loaf of bread, and a small wheel of cheese into my knapsack and started to descend the trellis that was attached to the wall below my window.
Once I reached the ground, I began to walk briskly to the train tracks that were less than a mile from my house. The leaves crunched beneath my feet and the chilling wind caused my teeth to chatter. There was a snapping sound behind me and I swiveled around to face the noise, but all I saw was darkness. I shrugged and continued to walk to towards the tracks.
I arrived to the tracks just in time to hop on the train that would take me directly to the border between Prospect Two and Three. I had done this for three months now, so I pretty much had the scheduling down: The walk from my house to the tracks took about five minutes, and the train took about twenty minutes to get to the border. By the time I got to the border it was 9:30 and Acer was always patiently awaiting my arrival.
I had a weird feeling during this trip though. I felt like I was being watched, but every time I turned around, there was nothing there. I shrugged it off and blamed it on my excitement to see Acer, if only I had known.
My heart began rapidly beating, as it always did, as I saw the familiar figure in the distance. I practically ran to the guard station and waved my pass in front of his face. He bowed to me and let me pass; I stopped just inside the gate and kneeled down against the hard cobble and tied my shoe while I waited for Acer to pass through the gate. As soon as he was through the gate, I got up and followed him. We had a rotation of fifteen different meeting places, so I never knew which one we were going to. Acer told me this was for our protection.
During our trek this night, I continued to feel like we were being watched. I would  glance over my shoulder, only to see the decrepit city we were leaving behind. Again, I shrugged it off and continued to follow Acer.
We walked in between the towering buildings until we made it to one of our spots. Acer took us to spot number three this time - it was my favorite. We called it the courtyard. The unkempt buildings that surrounded us, acted as a barrier to the outside world. The sallow moonlight streamed in through the gaps between the buildings and illuminated the space just enough to see the shadows of faces. I spread my blanket out over the mossy stone that acted as groundcover, and we laid down on our backs and stared at the stars. Our hands would remain intertwined as we talked. Acer started the conversation discussing his day at work. He absentmindedly ran his thumb over the back of my hand as he talked.
Suddenly we heard leaves rustle and twigs snap. A bird screamed in the distance. My eyes shot back and forth between each sound. Then there was a blinding light and a familiar booming voice.  
“You faggot!” he roared. “Get the f*** away from that low-life,” he screamed as he grabbed my ear and yanked me up off of the ground, out of Acer’s comforting grip.
“Let go of me!” I cried. “Acer, run.”
“No son of mine is going to be a damn faggot,” my father ranted. “I raised you better than this. I gave you everything and this is how you repay me? I should just kill you now. You’re never going to be Overlord after this little stunt.”
My eyes stung with unshed tears and my heart pounded against my chest. My father’s grip tightened on my ear and I heard the swift slashing sound of a knife opening. I felt the icy blade against my neck and sharp prick. I cried out in pain and writhed under my father’s hold, I couldn’t see straight anymore and started to fall against his chest, my legs suddenly weak.
“Acer,” I gasped, my breath shaky. “Acer, run.”
“Shut up faggot!” he demanded, his hands tightening their grip. “You’re dead to me.”
I saw Acer reach behind his back and pull out a gun. His hands were shaking. He looked me in the eye and I could see the horror he felt. I started screaming and kicking, trying to loosen the hold my father had on me, but before I knew what was happening, I heard an earth shattering explosion right next to my face and was practically pushed against the jagged earth. My head was pounding and my vision got blurry. I remember Acer rushing to my side and placing his cold hands on my face. He was whispering something that I couldn’t quite make out. My surroundings were suddenly encompassed with darkness and my eyelids slowly shut.
* * *
Now we were running. Running as fast as our feet would carry us, hand in hand. Acer’s taking us to our freedom. We are leaving together; all we have left to do is make it over The Edge. Then we’ll be free.