Her screams cut through the night- desperate and terrified- begging for her father. Hiram couldn’t shake the memory or the haunting sound that rang through his head every night.

“Dad!” Myra struggled against the Enforcers holding her down, “Dad, help me!”

Hiram’s heart pounded against his ribs as he found his way through the crowd. Behind him, Roderick bit at his heels, hands stretched out to stop him. Every clumsy step felt like he was trudging through mud, every step too slow.

_That’s my duaghter. _His throat choked on the words; instead they came out as a jumbled cry._ Please, you can’t take her._

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“Dad!” Another scream rang through the crowd but her voice was muffled. __

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“Hiram,” Roderick yanked him backward, “they’ll kill you before you even reach the stage.”

Myra’s breath’s came more ragid and shallow.

_They’re stealing her oxygen. _

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Hiram struggled against Roderick, hot, fiery tears stinging his eyes. Myra ripped her clasped hands from the group of Enforcers. She rose to her feet, shaking and stumbling with wild eyes as her mask hissed and sealed against her mouth and nose. Her hands clawed at the metal machine, her nails ripping at the tubes conected. Two Enforcer’s ripped her back into her restraints.

“I can’t breathe!” She screamed as the mask wheezed.

Hiram’s heart shattered and he let out a strangled cry, “That’s my baby girl.”

Roderick slapped a hand over Hiram’s mouth and forced his gaze to meet his. “Stop,” he hissed, voice harsh and urgent, “or else they’ll kill you too.”

“That’s my baby,” he repeats, his voice like a broken record, weak and repeating the same sad melody. His stomach lurched and snot clogged his nose. He couldn’t bring himself to breathe, as if the mask were on him instead of Myra.

Beside Myra, one of the older Rebels doubled over, his body convulsing as he threw up. Trapped inside the mask, the vomit had nowhere to go- he choked on it. The stench engulfed the crowd as his desperate gasps turned into wet sloshes. He thrashed against his restraints. The crowd tensed as the man stilled, leaving only Myra and one more rebel alive. Roderick’s hands tightened around Hiram’s arms.

The other rebel stood with her head held high. Her back arched and hands clasped around nothing but air. Her nails cut through layers of skin. Blood dripped down the women’s hands as the mask sucked the last bit of life from her. Even in the women’s last moments, she didn’t show her fear. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

“Dad…” Myra’s voice was a raspy whisper as her body trembled. Her eyes- the same eyes that reminded Hiram of her mother, rolled to the back of her head as the last breath was ripped from her lungs.