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This little section comes in right after the Unforgivable Sinner section. In the real story, the conversation is going to change a bit, because I'm adding in a little part earlier in which they actually talk about what she's going through and stuff. So yeah. Enjoy!

My first thought upon waking was Gabe. Incoherent images floated around in my mind. Gabriel. The rooftop. A crowbar. A gun. Alyssa. I sat bolt upright as the image of her smiling at Gabriel, gun raised, flashed through my thoughts. The room began to spin and I fell back onto a soft cushion. Stars flashed before my eyes and my ears rang with white noise. As the stars dissipated and the ringing quieted, I began to sift through my dreams and the events of the previous night, carefully assigning each memory as fact or fiction.

As I was doing this, a terrifying realization dawned on me. This wasn’t just about me anymore. Anybody who was around me could be hurt at any moment because of me. Gabe was living, or perhaps no longer living, proof of that. The ‘perhaps’ sent a spasm of panic through my body. No, he couldn’t be dead. I reasoned. It was a leg wound, nowhere near lethal. But as I considered the implications of the events of the night before, I realized that no matter what, whether or not he was killed by the shot, he would need to be disposed of. With a stab of guilt, my mind told me exactly what I had been denying since I was pulled into this entire predicament. I wasn’t just risking my own life by being around. I was risking the lives of everyone who came into contact with me.

Before the implications of this revelation could cause the walls of my world to crumble in and bury me, I turned my mind to a challenging, trivial, and distracting task, surveying the room in which I had slept. It was dark, the only light in the room coming from a small pocket-sized reading light, lying on its side on a mahogany side table. I surveyed the remaining items on the desk, a bottle of water, opened but only a few sips missing. A small hand-gun, safety on, next to a clip of spare bullets that were being used as a temporary bookmark. The dog-eared book sat open, the weight of the clip keeping its worn yellow pages from closing. From my vantage point, it was impossible to tell what the book was called, but it was apparent that it was not a new and hot bestseller.

I moved on. As I stared at the ripples of cloth that I had earlier dismissed as a window shade, I realized that the entire room was encased in them. Curtains. I sat up, unsettled by the ache in my shoulders and my lower back. I squinted into the darkness, hoping to find any clue as to where I was and why I was here. My eyes caught sight of a metallic glint in the darkness. A series of machines stacked one on top of the other stood next to my bed. It looked like a colony of giant bugs, with wires sticking out this way and that, some wrapped into organized bunches, some dangling limply towards the ground. Several dark monitors were installed on the front face of the machines. With a jolt of recognition, I realized at once that I was in the infirmary, the machines beside me were patient monitoring and life support machines.

I was surprised that I had not recognized the smell of ultra-purified air earlier, so clean that it was almost nauseating to breathe. I was also surprised to realize that in my search, I had failed to register the figure slumped over in the single couch beside the side table. In the darkness, I couldn’t tell who it was, but I really didn’t care enough to stick around and find out. All I wanted was just a few more hours before I would have to come face-to-face with reality again.

I was relieved to find that I was in my own clothes, despite the fact that they were almost completely ruined. My red “Junior Pride” t-shirt had survived the night with only a torn sleeve, where a bullet had nicked my arm. I hadn’t noticed the cut until I examined the blood-crusted tear. It wasn’t very deep and was already scabbed over. I would survive.

The too-big nylon track pants that Rebecca had found earlier in the lost-and-found also survived the incident fine, with only a few tears running along the sides of my thighs, none of them bloodied in any way. But unlike my t-shirt, which had been protected from the pollution of the city during my fall, the track pants were crusted over with dust and debris. I was unsurprised to find that small shards of glass had embedded themselves in the fabric. The remainder of what I was wearing when I fell asleep was draped across the foot of the bed. I fetched my sweater, realizing that it too was in bad condition. Actually, bad was a complete and total understatement.

Besides a small patch of fabric in the center of the back, where the parachute pack had been located, the rest of the back of the sweater was riddled with holes and tears. On top of that, the entire front was in the same condition as my pants, dirty beyond recognition. I sighed, unless I was intending to freeze, it would have to do. I pulled my now ruined sweater over my head and slipped on my running shoes, ignoring my lack of socks. I slipped out of the room as quietly as I could, being careful not to wake whoever had been watching over me.

Once clear of the curtains, I began to fumble around in the darkness in a sad attempt to reach the door. As I fumbled around in the darkness, my hand knocked into something cold and hard, and I felt it begin to tip. Instinctively, I lurched forwards to try and catch it. Both the beaker, as I could now see, and me fell onto the ground with a dull thud. I froze and stopped breathing, praying that I hadn’t waked the person. After waiting for what seemed like eons, I exhaled and stood up, placing the beaker on the counter top. It took me a good two minutes to find the door handle, and I was extremely lucky that I didn’t break any fragile objects in my hasty search.

I turned the handle and slowly pushed open the door, happy to discover that it didn’t creak. Once I shut the door behind me with a quiet ‘click’, I walked towards the side exit of the building, trying to blend into the walls as much as possible. Of course, that wasn’t extremely practical, owing mostly to my attire. I got a couple sideways glances and even one full on stare, but soon enough, I made it out to the east garage. After looking up towards the lift system and making sure that all the green lights were on, I carefully crossed the entry area to the maintenance elevator. I was sure that there was a better entry way, but since I hadn’t really felt like exploring the building in the previous hours while I was trapped here, I knew of no other way to escape.

The elevator plummeted down and came to a stop in front of me. I opted for hopping the gate rather than opening it, largely due to the fact that I didn’t have a key. The elevator had only two entry/exit points, the top floor and the bottom. It didn’t take rocket science for me to figure out which button to hit. I was zooming up and an unimaginable rate. It wasn’t as terrifying as the ride down, but it was terrifying nonetheless. With only four waist high guard rails enclosing the lift, one wrong step and you could fall to your death below. I tried not to imagine myself doing that as the elevator continued to soar up what seemed like endless heights.
I was slightly disoriented when the elevator began to slow. Instead of the feeling of upward motion that my mind knew I was supposed to feel, I felt like I was plummeting downwards. I grabbed the side rail for support, afraid that I would lose my balance and slip. It wasn’t long before it was all over. The elevator came to a standstill, and again, I hopped over the gate. I reached over the railing and hit the “B” button, and watched as the elevator fell back into the ground. A fake panel of wood slid into place where the elevator had stood a second ago, concealing the square hole perfectly.

I was in the same equipment shack that I had entered through, I could tell from the musky smell of old sports equipment and molding wood. I grabbed a flashlight from the shelf I had noticed when we entered. The button clicked when I pushed it, and the room was flooded with light. Wow, talk about excessive power. I easily found my way to the door, and into the great outdoors.

I walked from the shack towards outfield, passing by third base on the way, but staying a good distance away, knowing what the real purpose of the base was. I walked to the middle of the wide field, clicked the flashlight shut, and folded myself onto the dew-laden grass. I was glad that my pants were waterproof. The ground was cold, but the grass was soft and made for a nice place to sit. The moon was out tonight, and the field was illuminated in an eerie pale glow. The entire field sparkled like a sea, the grass rippling and throwing sparkling dew drops with every gust of wind. It was beautiful, in a certain unrealistic and fantastical way, like a scene from someone else’s story. This is what my life was. What my life always was; someone else’s story.

I sat, curled up into a ball with my arms wrapped around my legs, flashlight on the ground beside me. I shifted my right leg further away from my left to balance myself a little better. As I moved, I felt an object in my right pocket fall to the ground. It made a barely audible thump as it landed. I reached over and picked it up, keeping my chin on my knees. I realized at once what the object was.

I wiped it against the side of my sweater, rubbing off the water it had collected from the grass. I held it up to the moonlight. The worn trigger glinted in the darkness. Bits and pieces of the previous day began to catch up to me. I felt so emotionally drained that when my emotional storm hit and threatened to drown me in its downpours, I was surprised by its tremendous power. I found myself fighting to breathe. If I had been indoors, I would’ve thought the walls were crumbling around me, but I was in the middle of a field, with nothing but air. Air was crushing me.

My eyes filled with tears, my breaths came in quick detached gasps. There was just so much to experience all at once, the anger, the hatred, the betrayal, the sadness, the overwhelming pain that came with everything. The emotions each had their turn, eating away at what little control I had. My mute tears became sniffles, and the sniffles became sobs. I cried and cried, occasionally shaking my head in hopes of dispelling the wave of emotions that took over my body and mind. Then denial had its turn, along with regret, and guilt. The desperation and despair that had been present since day one came crashing down on me with everything they had. Each emotion continued to eat away at me. The overwhelming need to do something, anything, whether it would sharpen the pain or dull it took over.

I felt like lashing out at something, but the realization that I was resorting to violence at a time like this brought on a whole new wave of guilt. Anger. Fear. And guilt again. It was a vicious cycle. Eventually, instincts won over logic, and my right hand reared up, ready to launch Ty’s gun at something, anything, even if it was just thin air. A warm hand caught my wrist, just as I was about to fling the gun.

I stopped short, my sobs temporarily quieted by shock. I turned around and looked into a too-close pair of beautiful and warm hazel eyes. The night air held perfectly still.

"Hey."

His breath blew into my face. It smelled faintly of peppermint Tic-Tacs. I blinked a few times before my brain registered the fact that he had spoken.

“Hey…Ty.” I replied, my weak voice cracking. I cleared my throat and rubbed at my eyes fiercely, trying to stem the flow of unrelenting tears. I had dropped the gun when he caught my wrist. He sat down beside me, pocketing the pistol, and arranged himself into a relaxed position, one leg laid out across the grass, the other acting as an armrest for his right shoulder. He was only wearing a thin sweater over a white collared shirt, but the cold didn’t seem to bug him one bit. He was surveying the night sky as he spoke.

“A lot has changed for you during these past few days hasn’t it?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak yet. There were so many words bubbling up on the surface that I knew I shouldn’t spill yet. Ty surprised me by wrapping his left arm around me, pulling me closer to him. It was a reassuring gesture, nothing that was meant to push the limits, and it did its job. I closed my eyes and let his warmth wash away all the bitterness that was coursing through my body. That sense of loneliness that had haunted me for the past few days, despite everyone around me, melted away. I felt like he was returning a little piece of me. One of the many pieces that I had lost since the fire. But all too soon, he released me.

“You don’t have to be so brave you know.” His words, too, surprised me. He didn’t bring up anything that might upset me. It was just a simple statement of facts. For him at least.

I stayed silent, curled up into my little ball. I didn’t realize that my eyes were still closed until they flew open from the feel of his skin against mine. He had slid his hand under my cheek and down to my chin, turning my face so that his eyes met mine. Again his face and his stunning eyes were closer than I expected. I was surprised by what I saw in his gaze. Mere curiosity, not a single trace of the frustration or anger that I had expected from him. I had almost gotten myself and an innocent civilian killed, along with having almost blown up the plan. Yet he wasn’t angry with me. He released me, pulling back to his original position. Eyes towards the sky again.

I followed his gaze upwards. What awaited me in the skies took my breath away. A million stars, invisible within the city, shone in the night sky here. Even the moon could not steal away from the brilliance of the stars. It was like a fibre-optics light show, with twinkling stars of every colour spread from horizon to horizon. I couldn’t help but stare at the magnificent beauty that never reached most human eyes.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” His voice startled me, although my body gave no signs of any such reaction. I nodded, my gaze never leaving the splendour of the heavens. Finally, I tore my eyes away from the stars and looked over at Tyler. He was looking at me, studying my face. After a moment, he spoke.

“What is it you want to know?” Wow. I didn’t know he could read minds. That thought must have been written all over my face because the next thing out of his mouth was, “You looked curious.”

I turned away again, resting my chin on my knees. I collected my thoughts and sifted through the thousands of questions for the most vital but least touchy question. He was waiting patiently when I looked up again.

“Why…” I began, only to have my voice break. I cleared my throat and tried again. The sound was still weak and broken, but it would do. “Why are you here?” He looked at me, not quite understanding my question.

“What I meant was,” I paused, trying to word the question so it wouldn’t be so sensitive. “How come you’re already a member of this group?”

Comprehension flickered through his eyes as he took in the emphasis in my question. He pulled into a slightly more formal position, sitting cross-legged, eyes downcast.

“Becoming a member of the group is generally an inherited opportunity. Children born into Garanzia families automatically take on the role of leading the next generation. It is a system that works well, but we are always looking to expand, and with that expansion comes some…” He paused, searching for the right word. “…special cases.” I waited patiently for him to continue.

“You asked because I’m obviously much younger than everyone else here, right?” He looked over at me. I nodded once. He turned away, playing with a piece of grass in his hands. I remained patient, knowing exactly how hard it could be to find the right words sometimes. When he began again, his voice was quieter, filled with grief that I hadn’t expected.

“Both my parents were murdered by the government when I was eight.” He heard my sudden intake of breath. “I wasn’t that much different from you. Except the murderers never found me. I stayed late for a detention after school that day.” I could knew exactly what it would’ve been like, coming home from school expecting a lecture from your parents about being a trouble-maker at school and instead finding them dead. An entire life, shattered in seconds.

“Both my parents were avid collectors.” He continued, sucking me out of my world and back into his. “They ran an antique trinket shop along the harbour district. Earlier that week, a man had sold them an ancient copy of a bible.” I could see where this story was heading. Two more innocents, eliminated by the government out of irrational fear.

“My parents had no clue what the contents of the book were, they had never opened it, but the fact that it existed in their hands made them a target. That Friday, they were both shot. By the time I returned home, the bodies had already been disposed of, and Talia and her team were waiting for me. Back then, she was only a squadron leader.”

Again, he paused, editing perhaps, for my sake. I didn’t object. There were some things I didn’t feel like bringing up.

“She took care of me, like her own child. She was alone, and liked the company. Eventually, I learned to accept her. She taught me, trained me. When I entered my teens, she handed me over to Rebecca. I’ve been a member of her team ever since.” He looked over at me when he finished the story, he looked like he was about to say something but thought better of it.

“Go on.” I whispered. He looked at me, surprised that I had actually spoken.

“Well,” he began, obviously phrasing his words carefully. “Talia can seem a little cold and detached sometimes, but that’s not who she really is. She just has to do what she has to do as the commanding officer. She’s responsible for the safety of the entire team. She has to be calculating, it’s part of her job. You have to understand that, Breanne.”

“You can call me, Brie.” I said, smiling at him. He seemed a little stunned, but he smiled back.

“Brie.” He said, trying it out. “I like that. Brie, you have to at least try to understand what it’s like from her perspective. She really cares about you, but a part of caring is not allowing you to get too attached until she can ensure that you are a hundred percent safe.”

I understood what he was saying. And I held nothing against Talia. It was just that being around her still intimidated me. I wasn’t ready to open up to her yet, not the way I was ready to open up to Ty.

That thought startled me. It was becoming obvious that I was beginning to trust Ty in a way I had thought was never possible, but I had never openly acknowledged it. The thought didn’t alarm me the way I thought it should have. Instead, it made me a little bit happier. As if another piece of me had been returned. Around him, I began to heal. Slowly, but surely. I wished I could explain to him how much his company meant to me. Especially now, but I wasn’t sure if I could find the right words.

“Thank you.” Wow. That was lame. I looked down, blushing a little, hoping that he wouldn’t notice in the darkness. To my surprise, he laughed, a carefree sound that made my heart flutter just a little. I looked up at him again. He was smiling.

“Are you ready to go back, or shall we stay just a little longer?” He asked, making it clear that the choice was all mine.

“Just a little longer.” I replied, laying back and fanning my arms out, eyes set on the stars. If only time would stop for just this moment. I thought.

I have no idea where in the story this goes, next to the fact that it's in the middle somewhere! Enjoy this little bit, inspired by Lene Marlin's Unforgivable Sinner. (Just to warn you, this is really really long!)

I watched the others as I drifted higher and higher towards the clouds. The ground slipped away soundlessly, along with the city below. I could see the worried eyes of Rebecca and Ty below, carefully tracking the progress of the elevator. Slowly, the grey of Manetta transformed into the dark purple of the evening sky. On the horizon, a sliver of the sun could still been seen. The lift slowed to a halt. Below me, the city spanned from horizon to horizon. No longer could I make out the shapes of Rebecca or Ty, nor that of the surprisingly inconspicuous assault vehicle they had brought.

The mechanical doors of the lift slid open soundlessly, opening to a single long hallway with undecorated plain concrete walls. I assessed the surroundings. No doors lined the sides of the hallway, but at the end, about a hundred yards away, a single door stood. Closed. Two cameras were installed a few feet away from the elevator exit, both mounted to capture the entire length of the hallway. Otherwise, the walls were perfect, and undisturbed. It came as no surprise to me that Tori’s intel was flawless.

It seemed that the rest of her tips might also come in handy, not that I didn’t think they were completely unnecessary. I trusted Gabe with my life, but the Garanzia, especially Talia and Tori, obviously didn’t. I was told to prepare for the worst, and as Talia had put it, “better safe than sorry”. In an attempt to solace her fears, I had promised to stay alive, and had every intention of keeping that promise. A few precautions couldn’t possibly hurt. It didn’t mean that I didn’t trust Gabe, right? It only meant that I understood the severity of the situation I was now in.

Survival-wise, this hallway was a nightmare, but thanks to Tori and her team, I had a few tricks up my sleeve. I ran through the situation in my mind. Public entry into this level was only possible through the ground, second, and third floors, where the elementary school department was located. It would take exactly sixty-seven seconds for the lift to reach the third level, ample time for me to reach the roof, but if the government had any intention of deploying a few Soldats, they would most likely do so through one of two much quicker entry points, the first of which being the sixty-eighth floor, via the central security sector. It would take only twenty-three seconds for the lift to reach the central security sector, meaning I would have at least forty-six seconds to reach the door before danger could arrive through that route.

However, that wasn’t the only scenario. The quickest way would be through the door I now had to reach. If an ambush force was waiting just past those doors, I was doomed. The only way to stay alive would be to keep this elevator from going anywhere, leaving me both an escape route while preventing back up forces from arriving. I stepped off the elevator, keeping one hand firmly pressed against the door to ensure that it wouldn’t close. I pulled out the extendable crowbar that Ty had given to me, stretched it to three quarters of its full length, and jammed it in between the doors. Fairly low-tech, but it would do the job.

After patting the bar to make sure it was stable, I turned and faced my next daunting challenge: Reaching the door. It didn’t seem that difficult, but after the day of lectures, I was beginning to doubt the faith I had in my former best friend. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and began to walk.

At first, I sensed nothing out of the ordinary, just an increasing feeling of unease. I couldn’t place my finger on why, but my hand instinctively tightened against the grip and trigger of the stun pistol in my right pocket. I took another deep breath to calm myself and the nerves that were obviously getting the best of me. Then as the air began to sting my nostrils and burn my lungs, I realized why I felt so troubled. The smell.

The acidic smell of commercial cleaning fluids, used to keep dust from settling on surfaces where air circulation was poor, seemed to be rolling off every wall, filling the length of the hallway. The realization that no vents existed on this level of the building made the reality of my isolation hit home. There was nowhere to go. No one to run to. No help could reach me here. I was on my own. Attempting to clear my mind of the fresh flood of panic that threatened to immobilize me then and there, I pushed on towards the exit.

As I reached the door, I took a glance back to make sure that the elevator was still there, and would remain there, waiting for me. With my fears partially contained and nothing else to delay my visit, I braced myself against the solid iron door and pushed. To my extreme surprise, it opened without complaint. An empty staircase, the same colour as the walls I had just left opened up into the night sky. I looked up towards my final destination. My vantage point offered a beautifully clear view of the sky. It was almost complete dark outside. Faint traces of pink and purple trailing across the clouds were all that was left of the day’s light.

I climbed the stairs with my left hand gripped tightly around the support rail, my right hand still wound tightly against the pistol in my pocket. I wondered what I really intended to do with that. I had to hold onto the belief that my bullets were for the Soldats and the Soldats alone. I would not get Gabe involved in this, even if the others insisted that he already was.

I took the final step, out of the enclosed stairwell, and onto the rooftop. A solitary figure awaited me. I knew that I was anticipating the moment that I would see him again, but the relief that I felt was so great that it was as if I hadn’t seen him in decades, rather than a mere fifty-something hours. There he stood, like a beacon, living proof that normality still existed somewhere, if not for me, then for everyone else. I clung to that feeling. That image. That hope. Hope that had evaded me since this roller coaster ride had began.

I took a step forward, towards him. He took a step back. His eyes didn’t meet mine. Instead, they inspected the ground at his feet as if it was a task of vital importance. Hurt and betrayal stabbed through me, followed quickly by anger. I was the one who fought with her family, however new it may be, to be here. I was the one who was risking my life to see him. I was the one risking the lives of people whom I had just met to be here. I was the one standing in an impossible situation just for him. And yet he was the one who was afraid? What right did he have to be afraid when even I wasn’t?

I injected as much ice into my voice as I could.

“Gabriel.” I greeted.

He looked up, blatant shock crossing his face as he registered my tone and mood. I glared at him, waiting for the moment when he would either turn tail and run, or speak. At this point, I wasn’t sure what reaction I was hoping for, or even what reaction I should have been hoping for. He spoke.

“Breanne…?” His voice was meek. Quiet. But most importantly, confused. At that moment, I wished that I could explain everything to him. Why I was no longer around. Why I no longer trusted our world. Why I didn’t belong. And why even he didn’t belong. But I couldn’t. I clenched my teeth together and waited for him to continue.

“Alyssa told me not to come…” His voice drifted away. Alyssa. Another dilemma. Alyssa’s parents were both big players in the government. The fact that he had told Alyssa where he was now, more importantly where I was now, should’ve concerned me. But it didn’t. Alyssa was one of my friends, I refused to look at her as an enemy no matter what the circumstances were.

“You know why…” I answered, breaking away from his gaze, casting my eyes downward. Just like the coward that I was.

“No, Brie.” It was my turn to be surprised. His voice was stronger now, his tone resolute. “I don’t know why Brie. But I want to. I need to. Tell me, Breanne. Please."

All I could do was stare. His features were contorted into a mask of anger, confusion, and sorrow. He was pleading, begging me for answers that I couldn’t give. It was so wrong of me to hurt him like this, but what more could I do? I crossed the terrace, passing the swing sets that were installed years earlier to replace the indoor elementary playgrounds. Night had already engulfed the city. The swing chains rustled and clanged together in the darkness. Even the giant floodlights were unable to light the entirety of the rooftop.

I could see fear flash across his eyes as I approached. I pulled my hands out of my pockets, palms forward, to reassure him that I wasn’t armed. The cold night wind chilled the fingers. The gesture did its job. Gabe relaxed, melting into a much more natural stance. As I approached him, I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. He returned my embrace for a moment before pushing me away.

“Don’t be, Brie.” His voice was soft, gentle, but persistent. “Just explain. Please.”

I was afraid to answer. But looking up into his eyes, I could tell that he had no ulterior motive. I sighed, knowing that this was wrong, but unable to stop myself all the same.

“None of this was my choice. You need to know that. Please understand, I didn’t want any of this.” My tone sounded absolutely pathetic. I took another quick glance at his expression, but nothing but innocent curiosity and seemingly endless patience resided there. I took a deep breath and collected my thoughts.

“My house…” My voice trailed off. So much for collected thoughts.

“Yes, I know.” He encouraged.

“The people who burned it down…” Another glance at his face. He waited. I continued. “They were out to get me.”

“You’ve told me that already. That was why you couldn’t be here. And yet here you are.” His tone was polite, but not at all formal or foreign. He waited.

“I shouldn’t be here. But I found away. The others aren’t happy about it…” My voice trailed off. After a moment, he stepped in.

“The others?” I cringed. I knew he didn’t mean to pry, but there were things that I couldn’t tell him. I looked at him, pleading, trying to communicate just how important this was to me to him. “Brie, I won’t hurt you. Ever. There’s nothing you can’t tell me. You know that.” I sighed again, exasperated, confused, unsure. He was wrong, but that little part of me that still ached for normalcy also wanted very much to believe his words.

“They’re different. They think differently from the rest of us.” I began.

“So you’re still one of us?” He interrupted, obviously pleased that I still considered myself a member of “us”.

“No, not really.” I tried to work out how to phrase this. “I still think like everyone else, but I was born one of them. There’s nothing that can change that. Their blood is in me.”

“But that doesn’t change who you are.” He reasoned.

“I know, Gabe. I know. But that’s not how the government sees it. They have to worry about protecting the entire infrastructure of the world. People like me are seen as threats. And threats…” My throat dried up, making it impossible to continue.

“Need to be eliminated.” Gabe continued, echoing my thoughts, a fierce note of regret rang in his voice. “It’s okay, Brie. I’ll protect you.” His arms wound around me this time, comforting me, shielding me, if only for the time being. How much my mind wanted to believe his words. To think that it was possible for me to be safe. To be home. It was an absurd notion, but still I wished for it with all my might.

“No, Gabe.” My denial was weak, my voice cracking as I said his name. “I can’t get you involved. If something were to happen to you…if you got hurt because of me…I can’t let that happen, Gabe. I can’t…”

He put his index finger to my lips, silencing my pleas. “Come back. Come home.”

“Gabe. Don’t. Please.”

“Enough.” Came a high, cold voice from behind Gabriel. He spun around, orienting himself between me and whatever stood on his other side. The wind whistled through the few trees that lined the perimeter of the rooftop playground. I peered around Gabe, eyes focusing on a silhouette against the chain-link fence that enclosed the rooftop. The petite figure stepped out of the shadows and into the dim light of the nearest floodlight. I let out a gasp.

“Alyssa?” Gabe asked, bewilderment colouring his tone. “Why…Why are you here?” He stammered.

“To take in the prisoner, obviously.” She sounded apathetic. She twirled a small object around in her hands. Only when she stopped the twirling and pointed it towards us did I recognize the object for what it was. A silver-plated gun, sights trained on me no doubt, were in Alyssa’s trained hands. I froze, looking into the barrel of my would-be killer. This was it.

Gabe felt me tense behind him, his gaze met mines for a fraction of a second and he saw the blatant fear that was present there. His eyes, however, appeared only confused. Alyssa began walking towards us, her strides exuding undeniable confidence and dominance.

“Gabriel, be a dear and step out of the way for me.” She asked in a polite but detached tone. Gabe did not so much as move an inch. Alyssa continued to approach us.

“Gabriel, please step aside.” Her voice became more impatient, obviously, she was questioning Gabriel’s mental capacity. Gabriel only followed her with his eyes. Alyssa was closing in quickly. About ten yards away, she stopped.

“Gabriel, I’m only going to ask one more time. Step away from the fugitive. She’s not the only one that the law claims.” Alyssa’s voice became apathetic again, but the warning behind her words were a hundred percent real. Gabe still did not move, instead, he spoke.

“How does the law claim me, Alyssa?” He asked, whether as a diversion or out of genuine curiosity I could not tell.

Alyssa laughed a care-free laugh. A laugh that belonged at our lunch table, not here, to a villain ready to take the lives of her two best friends.

“You have been communicating with a fugitive. On charges of obstruction of law, I am authorized to take you in, using force if need be. And it’s not so rare that a field agent slips up. Accidentally drives a bullet through a skull. A heart. You never know.” She laughed again, the sound became more menacing. “One more time Gabe, move aside. You know I don’t want to hurt you.”

No matter how much I wanted to refuse her words, I had to consider the possibility that she would open fire. Since Gabriel had no intention of leaving me to Alyssa, it was time to take matters into my own hands, but before I could side-step him, an ear-splitting bang scrambled my thoughts, followed by a piercing high scream. It was Gabriel. Alyssa had fired.

Gabe was in a heap on the ground, writhing in obvious agony as he cleared his lungs of all the air they could hold. His right pant leg, now soaked in blood, now bore a small precise bullet hole. I wanted so desperately to lean down, to help him, to touch him, but Alyssa eliminated any other option besides fighting for my own life.

I began to reach into my pocket for the stun pistol that Ty had so graciously equipped me with before I left his care. Alyssa’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Do not try to pull a weapon on me.” Her cool voice cautioned. “You’ll be dead before the safety’s off.” I didn’t doubt a single word she said. I dropped my hand.

“Good girl. Unlike that one, you know what’s good for you.” She laughed again, a slightly hysterical edge entering her tone. I refused to follow her gaze. I refused to look at Gabriel, squirming on the floor, his screams dulled to quiet moans. Shock would close over him soon, and he would no longer have to feel the pain that now plagued him. I stared into Alyssa’s ice cold eyes and wondered how she could’ve ever been my friend. Now, with Gabriel shot and her next target me, it was apparent that she was anything but my friend. I pushed past the pain of loss that, on top of everything else, threatened to overwhelm me, and instead focused on survival.

Alyssa turned back to me. She studied me quietly. I looked back, my gaze unwavering. I couldn’t give into sheer terror now.

“Your smart, Breanne.” She began. “If you chose to come with me, I could help defend you. Earn you a spot among our ranks. You’d do well with us. The others that you speak of, the Garanzia, as they call themselves, they’re only trying to use you. Why would you let them do that?”

I stayed silent. Every minute she spent talking was one more minute I would spend breathing.

“My parents and I would be able to ensure your safety, in exchange for some information.” She looked up, inspecting my expression. I kept my face free of all emotions. She seemed pleased.

“It’s your best chance of survival.” She continued. I would beg to differ, but said nothing about my opinion on the subject matter. “What do you say, Breanne?”

She looked up, expectant. I was careful as I responded.

“In exchange for info about the Garanzia,” I began, “you would be willing to keep me alive?”

She seemed pleased, pleased that she would be able to bring me to her leaders alive. It would please them too, no doubt.

“Yes, of course.” Was her reply.

“I…” My response was cut short by a moan coming from Gabe. It sounded like a mumbled “don’t” but I couldn’t tell, and I was not about to stay around to find out. The minute Alyssa turned her head to the distraction, I turned tail and fled. A hailstorm of bullets erupted behind me, but it was too late, I was already down the stairs and sprinting down the hallway that led to the single elevator. Alyssa, slower and less agile then me, made it through the iron door only when I was almost halfway down the corridor. The bullet storm began again, ripping chunks off the wall and careening into the glass windows that encased the elevator. A large pane gave way and broke, showering the floor with glass just as I tore through the doorway, ripping out the crowbar and hitting the “1” button, willing the doors to close quicker.

Once the elevator began to move, I had less than twenty-three seconds to react. In twenty-three seconds, the elevators would open to the sixty-eighth floor, which gave me twenty-three seconds to make sure I was no longer on the elevator. I hit the emergency stop button, the over-ride for that command, according to Tori, would take less than ten seconds to initiate if the ground crew reacted quickly. I knew I had little time to act.

Putting all my remaining energy into the swing, I rammed the crowbar into the glass elevator casing, shattering the glass and exposing me to the outside world. Without hesitating, I followed Tori’s instructions, stepping over the guard rail and free-falling into the darkness of the night. I counted very carefully in my head.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. I was rushing. Slow down. If you’re not close enough to the ground on release, they’ll get you from the air.

 Six. Five. Four. Three. The ground was coming up fast. Too fast. I closed my eyes.

Two. One. I pushed a cord that Tori had fashioned onto my belt and prayed that this would work. Several mini-parachutes flew out of a pack attached to my shoulders like a small backpack, designed especially for cramped quarters between buildings. The chutes billowed in the air, trying to find the right orientation in the narrow space provided.  As they settled, they slowed my fall dramatically, but it wasn’t enough. Terrified, I looked up and realized that I wasn’t going to make it. The canvas of the parachutes were riddled with small holes. Perfect, round bullet holes. There wasn’t enough time for me to scream.

Everything happened very quickly. The ground was coming up fast, ready to engulf me and shatter me into little bite-sized bits. The roar of the wind picked up as one of the chutes gave out, and I careened towards a nearby building. And then a sharp, painful tug on my shoulders before I came to an abrupt halt. For a half-second, everything went quiet. I looked down to see Tyler running towards where I dangled, Rebecca twenty-feet away, gun aimed at…me?

Bang. Bang. I was falling again. I swallowed the scream that almost surfaced along with the contents of my dinner. Moments later, I was in Ty’s arms being rushed into the safety of the SUV. Darkness began closing in on me. Near-death experiences sure take a lot out of you. I thought. I welcomed sleep then, dozing off in the arms of my saviour.

I have yet to name this, so help is deeply appreciated! <3 Part One of the Unnamed.

There was a reason I hated the city. This city to be exact. The grey. It was everywhere. It was infectious. And it was disgusting. I routinely took the Sky-Rise service after school to return home, and every day it seemed the monotonous city would grow more and more…well, monotonous. The grey walled buildings would stretch as far as the eye could see in all directions, up included. The grey clouds would push down on the city, suffocating the plants that refused to grow and turned grey in the wake of all that grey. The windows acted as mirrors, reflecting the lifeless streets and sky, doubling the horror and gloom. Even the people seemed grey; city-goers dressed grey for the office, everyone walking the streets seemed to be greying, even the children looked grey and devoid of emotions, infected no doubt by the mad rage of this grey city.

I sighed as I took stepped into a Sky-Rise vehicle and began queuing for departure. The Manetta Sky-Rise service was an intricate system of raised highways that spanned the entirety of the city, including the suburbs, where I lived. The actual transportation system consisted of dome shaped vehicles that really should have belonged on a Ferris wheel, each seating up to six people, powered by magnets running along concrete tracks, guided electronically. All the passenger has to do, is swipe a card. A dull, boring, grey card might I add. I fished my card out of my pocket and slid it through the reading device located to the right of me.

“Welcome to the Manetta Sky-Train service.” An overly excited and polite mechanical voice said. “Please select your destination.”

“1584 Maple Woods Ave. Eastern Residential District.” I replied, sounding extremely bored compared to the tone the machine. Not even bothering to hide my irritation, now that I was alone in a private space, I threw my school bag aside and glared out the window at the grey haze.

The machine beeped twice and repeated the destination to me in the same excessively cheery and polite voice. I scowled and confirmed the destination, annoyed at how slow the machine was running. Of course, it was like this everyday, my mood on this particular day just didn’t help anyone. Or anything, in this case.

A couple of dull mechanical thuds later, we were on our way, flying through the city at breakneck speed. Not that I noticed this. It got pretty much routine after, oh, ten years. In a sad attempt to shut out the grey of the city, I pulled down the shades on the windows…but since they were also grey, I ended up pushing them back up. The day’s worth of irritation was really starting to catch up to me.

I pulled my hoodie and music player, the newest generation Mixter, out of my bag, yanking so roughly that my headphone jack popped right out. I sighed, pausing a moment to contemplate whether it was worth bending down and fishing through my bag for the palm-sized contraption. Given the options of doing as my mood dictated an ignoring the setback in exchange for a painfully silent half-hour ride verses inconveniencing myself for two seconds in exchange for a good half-hours worth of distraction, I chose the latter.

After rummaging through my bag, rather violently might I add, I pulled out my Mixter and set it on the empty seat beside me, along with my headphones. After I tugged my old faded school sweater over my head, I reached back over and picked up my music player, jamming the headphone jack back in with an almost imperceptible click that seemed to defy my efforts with its quietness. Having popped in my earbuds, I flipped through the menu on my Mixter, finding the familiar playlist that I had conveniently named “Screw Off”. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the windows, trying, unsuccessfully might I add, to not survey the haze of grey that was Manetta.

I let the day’s worth of events catch up to me, including the distressing fact that this city seemed to have a fetish for delusional idiots. Marina’s name seemed to flash in big fluorescent lights in my mind as I recalled that fact. Marina. Marina. Marina. What was I going to do about her? Seriously, female freshman nutcases I could deal with. Female freshman nutcases who practically stalked you in order to get involved with your best friend? That was a completely different story.

Marina Becker defined delusional idiot. She came from a small city in the south, where people apparently enjoyed nothing more than hearing themselves talk. About themselves. Unlike the rest of this bland city, Marina was always excessively colourful and cheery. It was a nice contrast to everyone else at first and I was okay with the little girl tagging around wherever I went. But then she met my best friend, Gabriel Torrens. Then things got a little complicated…

Actually, complicated did not even begin to cover it. It was only her second week in school, and she was already drooling over my best friend, stalking me for “backstage access” as she had put it. My retort was something along the lines of, “Access to what? His pants?” Crude, but I’m pretty sure it hit the mark. Apparently, that was crossing the line, and the female freshman nutcase had now become a homicidal female freshman nutcase. There had to be a way to throw her off my case, but all my mind was doing was drawing up a blank. I sighed.
 
A disembodied mechanical voice snapped me out of my reverie, with a cheery, “We are now entering the Cross County Interchange, please fasten your seatbelts.”

I glared at the machine for a good two or three minutes, frustrated by the fact that my mood just wasn’t infectious enough. I settled for staring vacantly out of the windows. I watched as the city flew by, not bothering to focus my eyes, making everything appear as lines of varying shades of grey. It wasn’t long before we were out of the city’s developmental zone limits. But even away from the hustle and bustle of the city centre, the colour, or lack thereof, didn’t change.

We were zooming past the city harbour now, a popular tourist attraction, although I couldn’t fathom why. It was just a boring old harbour, with greying retired military boats docked along one side, new but equally grey military boats along the other, and rusty faded fisherman’s wharfs filling the remaining nooks and crannies.

Along the eastern end, the side that housed the newer military projects, a crowd, tourists I guessed, was gathering. On any given day, the harbour would play host to about five-hundred of these tourists, strolling along the boardwalk, gawking at the monster ships that the harbour housed. It wasn’t rare for crowds to gather, but as the Sky-Rise car pulled nearer, I realized that this was no ordinary crowd.

Instead of the usual loose semicircle of tourists trying to get a good look at whatever the tour guides were talking about, this crowd was shaped like a donut. Everyone was pushing and shoving impatiently, trying to get a better look at whatever was in the clearing, but despite all this commotion, the centre remained parted. I then realized that a group of people in the centre were facing outwards, men in uniforms. The Manetta Police Force. That meant trouble.

As I was attempting to figure out what kind of trouble could have occurred in a well-run and uncharacteristically safe city like Manetta, I passed right overtop of the crowd, giving me a perfect view of the answer. A bloodied man, limbs broken and body strewn awkwardly across the artificial wood of the boardwalk, eyes wide open in blatant terror. Horrified and slightly nauseated, I turned away and rubbed my eyes in an attempt to remove the image that had just stamped itself onto my retinas. 

The remainder of the ride home flew by. As I exited the vehicle at the Remington Road Station, I internally cursed the construction work that left me two blocks further from my home than usual. The increased walking distance and the unfamiliarity of the neighbourhood set me on edge, and the fear and anxiety that now replaced the irritation and frustration made me walk twice as fast as I usually would.

The image of the dead man, splattered across the pavement like a squashed fly, never left my mind. As I tried to push the image out of my mind, I found myself suppressing the instinct to break into an all out sprint. Considering the situation, that impulse made no sense, but then again, impulses rarely did. I couldn’t help but look over my shoulders every other second. Fear had my hands clenched into tight fists, arms locked against my sides. Logic told me that there was no reason to get all wound up over a single murder, instinct told me otherwise.

I continued down the street, surveying the unfamiliar houses around me. Looking for some sign that someone, or something, was after me. The flutter of a curtain. A rustle in the bushes. The sound of pursuing footsteps. There was nothing. As I turned down the road that would lead to my house, my eyes focused on something in the distance, high in the sky. I froze.

A plume of smoke, rising almost eighty feet into the sky, had blotted out the sun.

I broke into a headlong sprint, trying to determine the source of the smoke. I was sure it was a fire, but where? As I approached the source of the fire, a mailbox, yet to be engulfed in the flames, confirmed my fears. The world swayed, dipping in and out of focus. My breaths came in short bursts. I could see the grey of the pavement getting ever nearer to me. Then blackness.

Yes. This story will be very anti-climatic compared to the title. No. You shouldn't read it. (But I know you will!) XD So here it is anyways, Episode Two of the HKIS Meet 2008 Tributes!

The crowd goes wild.

I’m standing behind the blocks, watching the girl in the purple cap finish her last twenty-five, well ahead of the pack. It takes me a moment to register that my hands are shaking. I drop my goggles. There’s no way I’m gonna get through this. I take a deep breath, looking towards the coach’s entrance. I catch the eye of a friend from ISB. She flashes me a thumbs-up. I just stare. I knew this moment would come eventually. After a failure of a first event, who was I trying to kid? If this was a team sport, I’d have someone to fall back on. Here, I was alone. Facing off against yourself can be so much scarier than facing off against a competitor.

“Swimmers, clear the pool.”

I can feel autopilot instincts starting to kick in. I hand the timer my disgusting bright pink time card. I swear, the ugliness of the colour is burning my eyes. I slide my goggles securely into place, giving them an extra pat on the eye pieces just in case.

The whistle blows.

It’s now or never. I step onto the block, lining my left foot up with the edge of the block, curling my toes around the edge. Placing my right foot at the back of the block, I realize two things: I’ve never started a race stutter-footed before, and the blocks are uncomfortably tiny. I force my mind back to the task at hand.

“Swimmers, take your marks.”

I bend down, gripping the edge of the block with one hand on either side of my foot. Arching my back high, I take a deep breath, feeling my suit tighten in complaint. I close my eyes, and my mind clears. I wait…

BEEP!

We’re off. For a split second, I’m airborne. It takes me a minute to get used to the sensation. The exhilaration of my plunge from the blocks into the near zero-gravity water is still pulsing through my veins. I take in every sensation; the pressure from my arms, pushed up tightly against my ears. The water rushing by me, as my legs guided the waves with smooth, controlled kicks. The tension against my finger tips, slicing through the water. The perfection of the moment was complete. I was a bullet. A bullet driven through the water. No one was going to stop me.

I’m ahead.

My right elbow breaks the surface first. My lungs are heaving in my chest, willing me to lift my head and take a breath. Three more strokes. I say to myself. Two. One. My head breaks the surface, just enough for me to take a nice lungful of air before the rotation of my arms pushes my head back down again. I’m flying. Against the backdrop of the most beautiful blue rivulets in my world. My arms are my wings. The waves are my wind. 

There she was.

Lane Four. The fastest of our heat. I can see her out of the corner of my eye, a blue and white blur. Dammit. The girl was seeded faster than my goal time. I turn my focus back to the wall.

I’m almost at the T.

This girl isn’t about to distract me from what I have to do.

I pass the T.

I know I should be thinking about my turn, but that girl just keeps getting in the way. Picturing the turn just isn’t the same as doing it…Heading into the wall, I pull into the tightest ball I can make. I’m off it the minute my feet touch it. Then I’m gliding. I know I can’t look. I know I shouldn’t look. But I do...

She’s right there. I hold my breath and pray. Don’t glide, don’t glide, don’t glide…She does. My lungs are burning. They’re fighting me every step of the way, but I can’t just give in now. We’re neck to neck, and I kick and kick and kick and kick and I know that I can’t kick any further when my left calf begins to seize. I’m break the surface, barely a foot ahead of her, and remind myself that I can’t breath on my first stroke. Whoops! Too late. Already did.

Focus!

On the wall. Not on the girl. This is between you, and that wall. I’m still going at a fifty-sprint pace. I know I can’t hold this pace, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try. We head into the second turn. An awkward twist of my left knee, and I know I’ve lost the lead. Coming off the wall, I see the girl about a half a body length ahead.

She’s leading.

But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up. Every single part of me is fighting. The exhaustion is winning over my technique. My arms are dragging. My head is too high. I’m no longer rotating. What first was a fight against myself, is now a fight against the water. I close my eyes. This is so wrong. I let loose a little, relaxing my neck, lengthening my strokes, rolling my hips, pointing my toes, guiding the water, letting it do the work. I’m back in control.

The final turn.

I see the wall. I’m almost there. But my mind’s panicking. I take my last stroke before the turn. I close my eyes. And let my body work for itself. Consciously, I know everything that happening. My legs tuck in tight for a split second…then thrust out hard against the wall. My arms are at my side, balancing the turn…then tight against my ears in my streamline. But subconsciously, I don’t care. Not about the girl. Not about my time. Not about anything. My glide is total release. All my doubts are being left behind with the waves I’m creating. I remember that this is why I swim, and for the first time since my injury, I’m no longer waging a war against the water, I’m at peace with it.

The serenity doesn’t last long.

I break the surface, and the need for air consumes all else. Still, I can’t afford to take a breath now. I keep my strokes smooth. Gliding. Careful not to create extra drag for any reason. I take my last breath about ten metres from the wall, where everything becomes a blur.

My right hand hits the wall.

A lungful of air. Then I feel every part of me crumble. Crumbling’s good. I think. I’m gripping onto the lane rope with everything I have, and yet my hand still slips. The Lane Four girl reaches over for a high five. After a race, high fives are barely an inch above water and pretty anti-climatic. We’re both out of breath and exhausted. I pull off my goggles and my cap, barely managing a congratulatory smile before sinking under the water.

“Swimmers, clear the pool.”

Not as easy as it sounds. Somehow, I drag myself out and collapse on the deck. Lane Four girl follows suit, and takes a red ribbon from the volunteer. My coach finds me within seconds.

“1:11.22”

I cannot believe my ears. The personal best is a total bonus, but my true win today, was my win against myself and the water. I can’t wait to get back in…I think as I walk away. My legs buckle under me, and I grab my coach for support. But only after a lot of chocolate…I add.

I'm not even sure where most of this comes from or what it was, but I wrote things...and so I'm posting them! (I found them in a binder under my bookshelf.) They're dated, I think they are just little story intro's, but maybe one day I'll decide to do something with them. I can't really figure out if the paragraphs are even connected, so just bear with me here. Thanks!

    "Leave them!" Alana screamed, feeling her arms fighting the strong hands that held her. Even as she watched the village, her village, burn to her feet, there was little she could do. As her own father pulled  her away, she heard him say, "I'm proud of you." In her heart, she was questioning those words, asking him, "Proud because I'm a murdered?"    She had done it. Even days later, the foul smell of her mother's burning land stayed with her. If she could've, she would've said she accused her because he forced her to. But the truth still remained, she had done it to see him smile.    But what did it mean now? She no longer had a home, just a prison; a prison full of porcelain figurines that could fill your heart with lies and still keep their perfect faces smiling.

It just kind of ends there...What does it mean? I don't know...but eventually, I'll figure it out....Hopefully. XD

Next One!

    She was a beautiful little one; stunning blue eyes, beautiful brown locks, but the fear ruined it. The fear always ruined it. I could see it on her face. To me, her emotions were like an opened book, you just have to know hot to read the words. As her eye flickered to the bottom left corner of her vision range, I wondered what memory she could have been recalling. How many bad memories could an 8-year-old hold?     Then, sighing, she bit her lip and looked up into the heavens. Good, she has no choice. She has to believe. And with that, I rose out of the shadows. It was time.

Uh, I think the narrator in this one is death...but again, I'm not really sure...

The first one was dated the 8th of January, 2007. The second one wasn't dated...but I think I wrote it sometime in the latter half of 2006.

No, I haven't actually thought of a title for this yet...

I stood with my head resting against the cool glass mirror. The tap was still running. From somewhere in the depths of my subconscious mind, I realized that I should turn it off. I made no move to do so. All I could think about were the numbers that I repeated to myself again and again, one twenty-six sixteen…one twenty-six sixteen…one twenty-six sixteen…like a mantra. Somehow, I realized that my injured leg isn’t going to hold out for much longer. Still, I didn’t budge. The pain of the loss burned out every other pain. The pain of the practices. The pain of the soreness that remained long after them. The pain of the injury that just won’t seem to heal. None of it could compare to the pain of having to face reality. The reality that no matter how hard I worked, this was it. This was all it was going to be.  

I thought and thought and thought about those numbers until, finally, the tears brimmed over. Between my broken sobs, I could still hear the words, still see the race, still feel the water. I grabbed my phone and dashed out of the room, ignoring the stares that I know I’m receiving. I don’t stop when I round the corner. I don’t stop as I fly down flight after flight of stairs. I don’t stop when the stairs end, opening up into a wide stage, surrounded by stone steps. I don’t stop until my legs buckle, and I’m thrown to the ground. I pulled myself upright, and walked into the protection of the shadows. There was no point in doing that; the stage was completely secluded and empty, but even then, I was self-conscious.

Barely seeing through the haze of tears, I slid open my phone and punched in the eleven-digit number that would connect me to him. To hope. To faith. To love. I hit the call button and immediately regretted my decision. I snapped the phone shut before the second ring. He didn’t need to hear me like this. He shouldn’t have to always be the one to put me back together. That was my job. That was my job. Forget the numbers. Forget the words. Take the good, leave the bad. There’s a whole meet still ahead of you.  

I stood up slowly, faintly registering the raw ache that tore down my left leg. Hastily drying the newly sprung tears from my eyes, I made my way back towards the pool level. With every step, my mind cleared a little, and I made the adjustments I’d need to make if I expected to be able to talk to anyone coherently. By the time I had reached my destination, I was ready to face the day ahead. Success is a journey, not a destination. I smiled as I remembered how he would always tell me that. This is just the beginning of your journey. I stepped into the crowded gymnasium, feeling my confidence return. And no matter where this journey takes you, enjoy every minute of it. Don’t do it for me, or anyone else. Do it for you. I dropped my phone onto my bag and pulled out my cap and goggles. I stared, undecided.  

He's right. I then thought, tucking them neatly into my pocket. This is about me. And for me. And every minute of every moment is mine, no matter what.  

                             C’est ma vie.

    There was a lake up by the cottage where I had spent countless summers at. At the time of my earliest memories, it was probably 1994, I was barely three years old, and everything about that cottage was pure magic to me. My dad had taken me sailing out on that lake, and I was infatuated by the tiny streams of silver that would flash out of the corner of my eye as we made our way out to the middle of the lake. I found out years later, that they were fish, jumping out of the water for god knows what reason, but at the time of those memories, I saw them as angels. Little angels gliding about the water, disappearing, running, hiding, every time I turned to track them down with my eyes, but always there to protect us from the monsters hiding in the depths of the deceivingly calm waters.

    The crash of distant thunder woke Cassidy from her daydream. She was sprawled across the grass, limbs fanning out at awkward angles. The grass was surprisingly dry where she lay. Despite the days of rainfall that had plagued the city before now, the grass was free of the smallest dew drops. She appreciated that. As she lay, she imagined the feeling of running her fingers through the grass, strand by strand, and she pretended that she could. Sliding her hand across the surface of the grass with her new-found grace. She giggled as a strand slid through her finger, the tip tickling her hand.

    The shockingly sharp feeling of a boot crushing through her mid-section broke her from her reverie. The feeling lifted almost as quickly as it had come. She looked up to see a group of teenagers storming out onto the field, hissing threats at each other as two clearly opposing teams were formed. Cassidy looked up from their shoes to their uniforms, quickly recognizing the yellow and blue jerseys of Elmwood High, and the green and silver of Joan Decartes Collegiate Institute. A flying object caught her attention, and her eyes traced the ball as it drew a perfect arc in the air and landed in the hold of a blue-jerseyed boy. A stab of pain shook through her as she looked up from the number on the jersey to the beautiful untroubled face that she had seen all too many times, yet never enough. Cassidy was on her feet in seconds, bounding away from the field so quickly that, although her feet never moved, the city passing by her was just a blur. She fled, leaving behind all her thoughts, memories, and troubles. She fled, until daylight itself had fled the city. She fled, swearing not to turn back. She fled.

    Carmen was the strangest kid I had ever met. She came to my school in grade two, and she was Ms. Bartleby’s absolute favourite. She was, to most adults, the perfect example of a private school bred kid; cute, gentle, polite, and kind. There wasn’t a single teacher in the school who didn’t adore her, with her perfect little porcelain face and her honey-soft voice. But that wasn’t the Carmen I knew.

    I had never talked to Carmen, until the rainy Tuesday afternoon in ‘97 that would make our worlds collide and intertwine until they were inseparable. It was an indoor recess, the kind of recess the elementary schoolers hated the most. After an entire day of being cooped up inside, you could almost taste the agitation in the air. Mr. Mason, my teacher, had left the room for an emergency stand-up staff meeting. It was then that Carmen had walked into our room.

    I never did find out what she intended that day when she pushed that blonde, angel-faced kid into our room. He was a quiet kid that kept to himself mostly, and no one held anything against him, but Carmen slapped him and slapped him until his cheeks turned purple and his lips bled, and to this day,  I’ll never forget the look on her face when she walked into our room with the boy in tow. Never in my life had I thought it would be possible for a child to be filled with such pure hatred and rage, but one look in Carmen’s eyes had me frozen on the spot. The room watched silently as, again and again, Carmen beat the beautiful face of the child, the blows drowning out his cries, marring his perfect features. And when she finally ran from the room, every pair of eyes trailed her through the door. As all of my classmates ran up and surrounded the poor child, some comforting him, some calling out for help. Me? I walked to the door, following the trail of tears that Carmen had left and wondered, for the first time ever, whether or not someone could be happier dead.

    She had stopped running at a cliff. A sheer cliff overlooking the ocean. The view was something that was engraved into Cassidy’s memory, and she imagined how perfect it would be now, after a fresh storm, the waves battling the on-coming tides. But in the darkness of the night, she saw nothing. As silent tears drifted down her cheeks, disappearing the moment the rolled off her chin, Cassidy slowly rolled onto the balls of her feet. She turned her face up to the stars, closed her eyes, and, with outstretched arms, dove.

    For the first time in her existence, the dive didn’t offer the solace that she needed. No longer did the feeling of being weightless, powerful, yet in control of nothing, comfort her. They were just words now, words devoid of meaning, for she no longer felt them. Whoosh. She did feel the water. It was cold and menacing, flooding through her with startling speed. The feeling was surreal; unlike the quick sharp slice of the dives she had taken before, the water swept through her like chills down her spine, filling every crevice in her body with unimaginable cold. She looked towards the surface of the water, towards the streams of light made by the sun finally throwing off the sheets of darkness from the night, and thought, How many tears did God shed in order to make these seas?

    Carmen was suspended for a week. The word was that she may have been facing expulsion. I didn’t buy it. The teachers loved her too much. What’s one slip up for a kid her age? Surely she didn’t realize what she was doing! Bullshit. Carmen might be the strangest kid I knew, but she was also the most clear-headed. She knew exactly what happened that day, and although she’ll never admit it, there was a reason.

    That Sunday, I saw Carmen near the convenience store down the block from my house. My dad had promised to get me five-cent candies there, and I wasn’t about to stop nagging until he did. So he took me. A stray kitten had side-tracked me on my journey to the store, and I had followed it to an alley off the side of the street between the store and the library. She looked like a bundle of clothes from where I was standing, the shadows holding onto her, protecting her, reluctant to let go, even as I approached.

    She looked up, having heard the rustle of my pants, the tears on her face barely discernable through the darkness. I made my way towards her on shaky legs, stopping before taking the step that would put me under the cover of the shadows. I could feel her cold eyes on me, although I didn’t see them. I could hear her shallow breathing, although her body betrayed no signs of such. And I could smell the blood. Her blood, the smell emanating from deep in the folds of the clothes that obviously did not belong to her. I searched for some sign of it on the ground or on her person, but found nothing, her small frame drowning in the abundance of over-sized fabric leaving only her face exposed. I swallowed, and took one last step forwards, giving myself over to the darkness.

    It was almost midday when Cassidy had gathered enough strength to haul herself out of the water and back to the city. She felt herself slipping out of the stone cold of the ocean and into the warmth of the sun, like a child falling happily into the arms of a waiting parent…or a girl…falling into the arms of someone who…She made herself think the words, loves her. She bit back the wave of emotions that threatened to drown her once again, and was surprised by how fresh the emotions still felt. In death, all of her emotions had taken the back seat to her newly sharpened senses. Having found her emotions now, she desperately wished that those senses would go away. Maybe then she would have an excuse never to return, but she pushed back the thoughts and began walking.

    She made her way back to the town slowly, taking in the scents of the forests, letting her mind flow freely to her past…

These were some works that my friends and I made on our trip to France this year. Most of it's pretty random...Okay, extremely random. But nevertheless, it's worth reading (yeah, it's a long post. Don't worry, we'll get through it). Enjoy! (By the way, spelling errors are being left as is, because that's the way we wrote it and it will be the only way you get the authentic effect of the language! XD)

Story One

Once upon a time, there was a pretty little princess who was locked up in a tower covered with green vines. Then this fairy came and took her to REAL LIFE (not fairy tale). So this pretty little princess ended up inside a sewer in New York city. But THEN, the princess got run over. She was miraculously saved by a fireman and took up skydiving. While parachuting, she was blown off course and landed in the shore of Cannes. She landed amidst a bunch of poles. One pierced her through the heart. Then a dog came. And it peed on her. Yes, in the water. Julianna then tried to save her. But she couldn’t. There was no prince charming for this little princess. She died, in a harbour, alone, covered in dog pee. The End.

Story Two

There is a girl and there is her dog. There was her house and there was a chair. On the chair there was a Russian cookbook. On the cookbook there was a Barbie doll. It was a princess Barbie doll. Unfortunately, everyone hated the Barbie doll cause she was so plastic and perfect and fake and slutty. So they burned her. Yes. They burned her. Even though she had a pretty tutu and ballerina shoes, along with a petticoat and a bonnet on her head. Before they burned her, the dog chewed her and slobbered all over her bright blonde hair. The dog was going to die when the Barbie was burned but then he found a four leaf clover!!! So he didn’t. He quickly ran outside the house with his Russian cookbook and found a little girl licking her lollipop. But the flames that burned the Barbie princess doll began to spread in the house of the little girl and consumed the entire house! Oh noes! No more house. That explains the switch in tenses at the beginning! OH EM GEE. Aside from the girl and her dog, there was also Max the turtle, Julianna the banana, Natchar the cow, Jessica the toothbrush, and Helen the baboon with the bright red butt. Fin. (Ooh, pro French skills.)

Story Three

Once upon a goat and cheese, there was a land of cucumbers and dressing. One of the cucumbers was named Larry. He had red shoes and liked his red cap. He was also a cannibal. All the other cucumbers were scared of him. They never asked him for sugar or pillows or toilet paper, so he was sad. One day, Larry went to the pharmacy and overdosed on drugs. All the other cucumbers were happy, except for one girl cucumber, who secretly loved Larry. Her name was Gary. Gary’s full name was Garrietta aka Latifa. She was the queen of Cucumber land. She employed the Defiblirator!!! Sadly, Larry’s heart hadn’t stopped, so when gary used the D thing, Larry died!!! Oh noes again! Gary called the cucumber hospital. They said they were going to cure him but instead put him in a sack and threw him in a river. He woke up in Egypt and met a tomato. They fell in love. They got married and had marshmallow babies. Queen Latifa sent a pickle assassin to kill Larry’s family. He failed (there are conflicting reports (too squishy marshmallows). Larry’s family was saved!!! But then he ate them all. The End. *munch*

Intermission

Once upon a time… Natchar wrote a story.
Then she died.
The End. :] 

Banananananananananananananna llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllamamamammamamama!!!
Figgaloooooooooooooooooooooo, mushroom….
Wo shi yi ge bo cai, lai lai lai lai lai lai.

Story Four

Back from that short intermission:

Once Upon ago, there was a girl named Sally. Who lived in a valley. She liked cheese and goats and goat cheese… wait, aren’t those the same thing? Who cares? She like cucumber cheese, too! One afternoon, Sally set herself on fire. A rabbit took advantage of the situation and stole her bicycle keys. Sally didn’t own a bicycle. Then she jumped into a river to avoid third degree burns. She found out it was Jello. PLOP. She ate it all, and became obese. Then she squished all the people in the world with her big fat bum. Yes, it was almost as large as Juls’s J Just kidding. ABOUT KIDDING XD. Then someone stabbed her. And she exploded. KABBOOOOOOM. (notice the sound effects) Her fat became all the vegetables in the world. That’s why vegetables taste like… Jello? What the heck. This is retarded. ANYWHO.            

ONCE UPON A TIME: there was a can of coke. His name was Jimmy. He was so sick and tired of people drinking out of him. So he became a vampire. He liked to suck blood out of kids (meaning humans and goats). Jimmy, one day sucked the blood out of a girl named Jessica Hao but he didn’t like it because it was too fatty. He decided from then on that he’d only eat out of people who drank skimmed milk! But that was extremely hard to find, considering how nobody liked to drink skimmed milk because skimmed milk was made out of skimmed goats (also Jimmy knew what it was like to be drunk out of). So instead, Jimmy resorted to TUNA, the fish that kills the dolphins. Stupid tuna. You see, Jimmy ate so muh tuna that he turned into a big, fat, obese, blubbery, jiggly, puffy hippo J. Then the hippos thought that he was a very hot hippo and all started to flirt with him. Note: the next section is too graphic to be publicly displayed in a children’s novel, however, we can say that quite a few months later, quite a few beautiful hippos were then born…But then they became MOSQUITO BABIES because they were bitten by mosquito werewolves. Then the mosquitoes became coke addicts. And they drank COKE and BLOOD!!! And the circle of life was completed.

THE END.
    
Story Six

Once upon a long time, there was a little bird who ate seeds. He ate chicken seeds, and cow seeds, and people seeds, and even GOAT SEEDS! What people didn’t know was that this little bird was really a transvestite in disguise. Uhh, carrots are cool. And so is broccoli. No. carrots make people turn red. Broccolis make people turn green. What`s up with the whole goat thing…the bird choked on the broccoli and became a goat!!! The goat was anorexic since it was vegetarian.. wait goats are vegetarian, they don’t eat meat. So veggies were abandoned by the goats` government. Of course, all the vegetable rights activist goats rioted at that. They threw rocks at windows and walked around with signs. The government got sick of them and DESTROYED THEM WITH THE ATOMIC BOMB! But they didn’t die because a turkey ate the bomb. The end.

Like them? Well, eventually, there may be more!

Read my blog post for the details. I was hoping to continue this, and I've already kind of gotten started on the first chapter, but there are still kinks in the storyline for me to work out, so I'll post them chapter by chapter as I write!

            She glided the length of the bus, turned around, and covered the space again. And again. And again. She was experimenting, unable to get used to that feeling. The feeling of being weightless, invisible, and, for the first time in her existence, graceful. It was just like the feeling of gliding through the water after a perfect dive, or a perfect turn. She felt her body split the air as she moved, and felt the power she held. She felt the energy bouncing around in swirls around her, and, although she didn’t understand, she loved it.

             Even in death, Cassidy was stunningly beautiful, and it was a shame that there was no one there to admire her beauty. Her once-bright auburn hair, now a muted brown, still hung in perfect little curls, clipped back neatly behind her ears. Her eyes, a stunning grey in life, had retained the same shade and beauty. Her skin was pale, but smooth, the bruises under her eyes no longer visible. Her lips, a pale pink, opened and closed as she sang a song from her youth. Heard by none but herself.

              As the loaded bus began to move, Cassidy folded herself cross-legged onto the seat in which she used to sit, one left empty now, despite how crowded the bus had become. She heard the chatter float around, and although she could no longer comprehend the words, she drank it in. Every sound. Every voice. Every noise.

            She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against the cool glass, all too grateful that she could still touch it. Slowly, she lifted her fingers up to the glass, feeling the moisture that clung to the surface, feeling how easily broken the illusion was. Gently, she began to push, and her hand slid through the glass like it would water. It reminded her of her hands breaking the water’s surface on a dive. Every time different, but at the same time, all the same. She felt something warm by her knee.

              Lifting her head from the glass, she turned to see a boy. A boy no older than twelve, perched on the edge of the seat, chatting animatedly to his sister across the aisle. She giggled, wishing she could touch the child without frightening him. Gracefully, she rose and scanned the faces crowding the aisle. Kids argued over food, laughed over jokes, fought over toys. Cassidy sat back down. With one last look at the boy, she turned back to her thoughts. Her explorations. She was content just to sit and be in their company. To fade into the background and watch. She smiled inwardly to herself.

             "This is my paradise."

This was an assignment I did for English. I believe it had something to do with descriptive writing...anywho, I wrote this for English, and it is one of the few assignments that I'm actually very proud of. Anime was actually what inspired me to write this, and some of you will recognize this immediately, and some may not. I'll tell you exactly what inspired this piece after. Enjoy!

    Holly stared at the monitor, her gaze transfixed on the text before her. Her quivering fingers fumbled with the mouse. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her fears to the back of her mind, and buried them there. There would be time for them later. Slowly, she began scrolling down the list.
    “Becket…Becket…come on, there has to be a Becket here somewhere. There has to be…” She had muttered pleadingly to the screen. She was nineteen then, just a freshman at college. She remembered that day and those words all too well, and along with those recollections always came the tears.
    An explosion thundering to life to her right shook her from her daydream. Catching herself, she mounted her sights on the small-sized combat jet closing in on her from behind. He had the upper hand for now, but he wouldn’t for much longer.
    As the enemy pilot’s front guns took aim and fired, Holly dove. In that split second, in the exhilaration of that free fall, she recalled his kind face. His gentle smile. The smell of his hair. The sound of his voice. He was the only reason she was in this war, and she had sworn to never forget.
    She called on vengeance to drown out the sadness. With perfectly calculated accuracy, she pulled her plane from the dive, maneuvering right under the enemy jet. In one shot, it was all over. Then came the chaos.
    Over the International Distress Channel came an ear-piercing wail, followed by desperate sobs…no pleas, and for the first time in years, Holly was drowning in memories. Four years ago, she had felt the suffocating feeling of every wall around her crumbling in and destroying everything she had known. As she reached the end of that list, she was ready to die. But for Becket, whom the world would never see again, who would never look down at her with those beautiful eyes again, she needed to have vengeance.
    Then, as the tears, fear, and realization finally washed over her, she could no longer tell the difference between the mournful cries of the enemy, or the regretful cries in her heart. And for the first time in years, she felt her anger slip away into oblivion. As the enemy gunned her down from the back, she made one final transmission over the IDC, “Someone is killed for killing another, then someone kills them because they killed…Will that kind of twisted thinking ever bring us to…”
    Holly’s broken wings sliced through the water. Despite the chaos in the air, and the tension blowing about, Holly’s words lingered, silencing the battlefield. And for the first time since his death, she was able to let go of the past and face whatever laid ahead, free from the bonds of hatred.

- Jessica Hao

Have you figured it out? Yes, the words spoken by Holly are a translation of the words spoken by Cagalli Yula Athha to Athrun Zala during Gundam SEED. The full sentence is, "Will that kind of twisted thinking ever bring us to peace?" I find it quite epic, but there's no need for you to agree at all! I love Gundam SEED and Gundam SEED Destiny, and it seems to be something that actually does trigger some thought for me. Don't you love my weird-ness?