Disclaimer : don't owe anything in this story. well, I don't own the characters, I made up the story though. duh. Okay, don't sue, etc.

A/N: I absolutely love the book 1984 by George Orwell. I think that man is a genius. Okay, yeah, so it's the best book ever (which is quite contestable), so I decided to write a little blurb about my favorite character in the book. He had a really small part and people probably wouldn't even remember who he was, but he was the best prisoner in the Ministry of Love.

Belonging

I guess you could say that human's greatest fault would be the fact that we are communal. that we desire almost more than anything else, to be accepted, to be a part of something, to call our own, to belong. I know that it's my greatest fault; this need to belong and to call my own. That's why I'm here today, in the Ministry of Love. The thought police has nothing on me, besides the fact that I have this need to help people with the secret hope that I will be accepted. Could they really blame me for that?

I guess I'm jumping the gun a bit. I'll start from the beginning. From the way I look, chinless, toothy, and pouch-y cheeks, you would never guess the life that I have led.

My childhood was like that of many of my peers, but the only difference is that I can clearly remember it. I can even remember facts that happened before I was even born. It was the lasting effect from my parents. They remembered every detail of their lives before the Party and Big Brother came. Yes, there was such a time. A time where it wasn't as hard. They often said that they took it for granted. It was a meager living for them, and when the Party came, I guess you could say life got better, but the lies just compounded. My parents were part of the Inner Party. How they achieved that great status is quite beyond me. My mother also tutored me at home. I was never good at being a Spy, but my mom taught me how to act and what to say and respond. I don't think the Party suspected anything. Because of this dual teaching, I began to think for myself. The Thought Police would have had a party if they ever saw into my brain.

That's a lie, too. The Thought Police was a sham. They couldn't read your mind. They could interpret your body language. It was simply that. I should know. In my early twenties, I was hand chosen to become a Thought Police member. I went through the training. I stated all the lies that they wanted me to state. I swallowed and threw back up those lies. I had to make them believe me completely, and they did. They never suspected anything. They never thought that through all my actions, through all the lessons they had taught me, I was a rebel. I was leading a rebellion against them. I was no Goldstein. He was false. He probably was working for the Party anyways. I am not sure if he ever existed. Even I questioned it sometimes.

The Thought Police isn't a squad. That wouldn't be too effective in spotting people. It would be the complete opposite of subtle, it would be offensively obvious. I was placed in the Outer Party. It wasn't a punishment, supposedly, but I know that they trusted me enough to let me go completely under cover. I even turned some people in to the Ministry of Love. however, of course, those people were those gullible ones, that if you even planted a small suggestion in their minds, they would think it true. So if I told them they were thinking thoughts against the Party, they immediately believed it to be true and grabbed onto that fact, and lost their lives for it. They were actually one of the few people who the Party would have made as models for us all.

I was demoted further, if you want to look at it in the social status kind of way. My job was the traverse the proles' living area and spot the Outer Party members that would get away to do. "things." I have seen things that Room 101 would not even compare to. These proles are filthy, and some acts should just not be watched. at all. ever. I didn't become a prole, not like "Mr. Charrington"; but I become one of those Outer Party members who needed to get "some." So, in this position as well, I took control of the situation.

In the meantime, I was able to take control of another situation. How was I going to lead this rebellion against the Party and still come out squeaky clean? Then it hit me; I was with the proles many times, and I knew places that Big Brother didn't know even existed. Now, I could smell a Thought Police miles away and I can see one from even farther, so I was never worried that a "Mr. Charrington" would infiltrate my plans. I set up a school for the proles under ground. My whole setup was underground. It was practically impossible to keep one over ground, so I did with what I had. I taught the proles how to read and write, but most importantly, I taught them history. I taught them justice and human rights. This was going to be movement that the likes of Big Brother had never seen. I called it the Brotherhood. It was mine. I called it my own.

A/N Sorry so short. and a little off, and not too exciting, but school just keeps getting in the way. hopefully, I'll write a better one, but the next chapter will be coming up. Hehe, maybe I should just double space it. ( really though, I feel bad cuz it's so short.

Please R/R