The last days of the queen of hearts

The day started out like any other. With an attack from the royal guard.

“Come on guys. Hurry up!” called Brad as he grabbed his sword.

“Coming!” a voice called as a woman appeared next to him directly followed by a man on his other side.

“Rebecca! You said that your magic would hide us through the night!” said the man.

“Yeah… and it did! It concealed us through the night. I never said anything about in the morning!” the woman, Rebecca, said defensively as she and the man rose to claim their weapons.

“Not this again,” muttered Brad. The soldiers, no doubt sent by the queen herself, were almost to their base.

“Bradley Wilson,” said the leading soldier in a formal voice, “either yield to her majesty the queen willingly or we will be forced to… well you know by now what we will forced to do…”

“Yeah yeah we’ve been over this.” said Rebecca said rolling her eyes.

“Well I have a message for the queen,” Brad replied ignoring Rebecca. He raised his scimitar sword. “I hate being called Bradley,” he said as he swung nearly decapitating the soldier’s head.

With that a battle erupted. Rebecca stood at the highest point of the base and fired shurikens, with precise accuracy, at the invading troops while Brad took on the commander head-on.

“Grayson cover me!” Brad shouted.

“On it,” Grayson replied as he instantly appeared at Brad’s side. Together, Brad and Grayson took on the commander and his generals until, finally, the commander gave in.

“Retreat!” yelled the commander to his remaining troops. The soldiers scrambled to their feet and ran as Rebecca fired the last of her shurikens.

“Well… that went well.” said Grayson breaking the silence.

“Sure…” said Rebecca in her usual sarcastic tone.

“Do you remember the whole reason this thing started? With the queen?” Brad asked no one in particular.

“Of course,” said Rebecca, “the queen is madly in love with you… totally normal reason for all this...” she said gesturing towards the direction of the retreating royal guard. They all thought back to how this problem started in the first place.

Chloe Wells always wanted love. Her father died just before she was born and her mother abandoned her the second she was. She was left on the doorstep of a rich merchant who made her his servant. She grew up working for him her whole life alongside his son, Eric. While working Eric, she fell in love with him, and eventually became hopelessly obsessed with him. Unfortunately for her the gesture was not returned, as Eric was arranged to marry one of the princesses.

Years past until finally it was the day of Eric’s wedding. At this point Chloe’s obsession with Eric was nearly to the point of insanity. She started to see things. Hear voices. Her desperate craving for love made her do crazy things. Dangerous things. Until one day she decided she couldn’t stand it anymore. If she couldn’t have the love of her life no one could. She made a plan to murder the princess and the entire royal family… and then she did.

She snuck into the room where the royal family and shot them all. What she did not realize at the time was that Eric was in the room as well as the royal family and while she was mindlessly shooting the royals, she accidently shot and killed Eric as well. Driven by the grief of killing her love she vowed that someday she would get the happiness and love that she  deserved. From that moment Chloe Wells took on the name “The queen of hearts” and became the queen, claiming that the royal family had left the entire kingdom and army to her. The royal family being dead and no one else left to lead, the most citizens gladly accepted her as their leader. Those who didn’t were killed or mysteriously disappeared.

Through a series of circumstances the queen met Brad who she, of course, fell for. Brad, who had no intention of having anything to do with the queen, had been on the run ever since.

wea“Anyway,” said Brad breaking the silence, “Today I plan to end this once and for all. Mark my words the queen will fall and it will be by my hand.”

                                                     Three hours later     

Brad, Rebecca, and Grayson managed to take out the first wave of the imperial guards  and were about to infiltrate the palace.

“Are you sure that this is really necessary?” Rebecca asked throwing a shuriken.

“Who’s side are you on anyway?” Brad replied annoyed. Rebecca rolled her eyes.

“Yours duh. I just think that this is a pointless attack.”

“I agree,” said Grayson, “Why exactly are we rushing into this battle?”

“Because I am tired of running” Brad answered.

“So because you are tired of running we are ALL gonna die… yay…” said Rebecca. Brad stopped.  

“You know, if you guys don’t want to do this you don’t have to.” he said.

“Please, like you could survive without us.” said Grayson.

    “I cannot believe I am saying this but I agree.” said Rebecca. “You won’t admit it but you can’t do it without us.”

    “Shhh.” said Brad.

    “Don’t you…- ”

    “Shh... I’m serious.” Brad said in a hushed voice. They were clocked by magic and were nearly to the throne room where, according to an inside source. the queen was supposed to be.

“What is it ?” Grayson said in the same hushed tone. Brad pointed at the room across the hall. It had the royal crest on it. Cautiously the three of them crept towards the door, trying ever so much to avoid the guards on both sides of the door. “Okay so how exactly are we going to get inside?”

“You two go. I will cause a diversion.” replied Rebecca. Carefully she removed the cloaking spell, and attached a bomb to one of her shurikens.

Finally one of the guards noticed her. “Hey who are-” with great haste Rebecca fired her shuriken at the opposite end of the hall. It exploded, causing a fire, and within moments the entire east hall erupted in flames. Three of the guards rushed towards the fire, two of them went into the throne room, but one of them started chasing Rebecca. Instinctively she ran in the opposite direction of the Brad and Grayson, but didn’t get far before she was captured.

At this point the cloaking spell that had made Brad and Grayson invisible had worn off. Brad nudged Grayson as the both of them walked into the throne room. Inside were many drapes and tapestries showing the Queen and the dead royal family. One in particular showed Eric and the princess that he was supposed to marry, only the part with the princess was ripped and parts of her were charred as if the queen had tried and failed to burn it.

“Well if it isn’t my Bradley,” said the queen appearing out of nowhere. The look in her eye was of sheer insanity. Brad glared at her with pure hatred.

“You.” he said with a sneer. He let out a battle cry and charged at her. Just as he was about to strike her, he was stopped by a guard. Struggling he called out to Grayson only to find that he was captured by another guard.

“No. No! NO!” Brad yelled finally losing the grip of the soldier. He ran towards the queen, with all his fury, unsheathing his sword. In that one second the world stood still. In that one moment in time, the balance between good and evil shifted. In that point of time it was made clear that nothing is truly good and nothing is truly evil. It is only what we define it.  But sometimes because of circumstances our definitions change. You might think of this as one of those circumstances or you might not. The decision is up to you. In that moment, Bradley Wilson, someone who had a bright future full of possibility became a murder. Because in that moment Brad killed the queen.

                                               One day later

“Well congratulations Brad. you're officially a murderer.” said Rebecca.

“Yeah, yeah but it is not like you are not.” he replied. Rebecca rolled her eyes.

“What do we do now?” asked Grayson.

“Now? well I don’t know. Just go where destiny is calling.” Brad replied as they all walked out of there hiding place. Into the great beyond. Into the midnight.

Prologue:

So here I am. Sitting. Looking at a bleach white wall, not moving, just, staring. Wishing to be above the ground on top of this mountain I am trapped beneath. I wish to be under the dark sky full of the dancing sliver of the night. I wish to be with my mom, my dad, my sister, my brother even, but no I am here, waiting.

Men In The Dark Glasses

It all started on June fifteenth, two days before school let out. The ambiance of summer floated lightly around the room. Everyone was beaming and wiping their desks down. No one but my friend Kris and I noticed the burly policeman with dark shades that had just swept in and took Kris into the hallway. I glanced up at Ms.Jopkins (my fifth-grade teacher) and she didn’t seem to notice either. As minutes passed I became slightly concerned. Being the curious person I am, I had to check to see what was happening. Kris is the kindest, quietest and best-behaved person I’ve ever met (to be fair, which is not a lot of people) - what could she have ever done? I slipped closer to the door and pressed my ear to the cold metal.

“She did nothing” Kris exclaims.

Who is this “she” I wonder?

A deep voice answers, “Are you sure, girl?”

“Yes,” she manages to croak out.

I hear the policeman opening a case and pulling out a clunky metal machine that I suspected to be a polygraph. I peek around the corner and find that my suspicions are correct. I hear Kris being hooked onto the machine. I know that sound by heart because my mom is a policewoman in another city. She once told me that polygraphs aren’t very reliable, you can “beat” them by simply calming your nerves. I sneak one more glance around the corner and see Kris’s panicked face. I try my best to mentally communicate to her to calm down! I almost yell out to her but I quickly remember the policeman standing next to her and I refrain.

While this is going on I had not noticed that my teacher is handing out end of the year report cards. I hear Kris’s name being called and I walk over to pick it up for her to do her a favor.  Ms.Jopkins doesn’t seem to care about this. My packet is next since Kris’s last name is Warren and mine is  Ziegler.  Ms.Jopkins gives me my report card but hesitates a second and says “Elle you had an extraordinary report card - I suggest you partake in advanced mathematics”.  I nod in agreement and walk away toward my desk and sit down. I pull out my report card and find that I have all A’s. I don’t have much time to soak in the glory before the policeman walks back in with a handcuffed sobbing Kris. Now he has the whole class’s attention. The looks on their faces are all saying “Really, Kris?”  He walks over to Ms.Jopkins and whispers some harsh words to her. She nods, and he walks over to me and handcuffs me as well! I freeze in shock as he drags Kris and me out of the building and shoves us into a police car. For some reason, the police car has no light on top.

He turns out the sirens and we speed off. Kris looks at me for reassurance but I can’t offer much. We just sit there in silence staring at each other. Finally, she manages to squeak out “Elle, we're gonna be okay, right?” Knowing that Kris has anxiety issues I try my best to reassure her by nodding a little bit. She sighs a bit. Then I timidly ask “are our parents being called?” He nods gruffly and keeps driving. I sit there for what feels like hours. I smell a funny garbage like smell. Suddenly I fall asleep.

The next day in the Bentley Hollow Journal:

Missing, two girls accompanied by a policeman. Last seen at Bentley Elementary. Eloise Ziegler is an 11 year-old caucasian female with blond hair and brown eyes, last seen in a green shirt with a blue jacket and blue jeans about 5 foot. Kris Warren is a 10 year-old pale caucasian female with red hair, pale blue eyes, and freckles last seen in the purple shirt with a flower on it and blue jeans about 4 ft 5 inches. Policeman(name unknown)is a male (age unknown) with brown hair and brown eyes last seen in policeman's outfit about 6 ft 3 inches.

I wake up in a white room with nothing in it. As I gain consciousness I realize I am sitting in a gray metal chair. Not only sitting but I am tied down to the chair! Then it all hits me.The car ride - the funny gas - and Kris, wait where is Kris? I start panicking even more than I already am. I struggle against my restraints for a couple minutes but get nowhere.

An hour later a tall slender man with dark glasses strides in and places a plate of food in front of me and says to eat. He unlocks the chains restraining me and walks away. I am left staring at a plate of awful looking food but I do what I am told and eat. I take bite after bite of the green pile of mush and slowly spoon some into my mouth and attempt to swallow; it barely makes it down. I continue this process until my green mush is gone.

About two uneventful days have gone by. They never turn the lights off so I am not totally sure exactly how many days have passed. Every day the same thing happens, the man slips through the door with green mush, unties me, leaves, I eat green mush, he comes back to pick up the plate and ties me back up again. I am guessing they have cameras somewhere in the room but I am yet to find them. I try to sleep most of the time but it is hard because of the blinding lights.

Just as sleep starts to fall over me I hear the blaring of sirens and my door opens all the way. A scruff malnourished boy peers in and curses and says “wrong room” and almost slams the door but then says “What the hell? Come on, you ready to get out of here?” I nod my head enthusiastically and he grabs me and runs. I say “wait, what about my friend!” And he replies with “Forget about it, you can tell the police later. But for now, do you want to live? Answer Yes. Well then let's go.” He opens another door and a small boy is curled up inside. He runs out with the small child in his arms and shouts “GO! GO! GO! GO!”, even though it sounded more like “GOGOGOGO!”. He takes some very weird winding and confusing turns while sprinting at top speed, which is much faster than I could ever go but somehow I manage to not fall too far behind. We reach a big metal door and he tells me to stop and stay here with Chase. He hands me the small child and runs down a different corridor. It is just me, the sirens and this “Chase”. I wonder where the guards could be but my thoughts are interrupted by the rumbling of heavy footsteps. We have company. The kid who broke me out appears by my side and the door pops open.

A line of heavily armed men wearing glasses face us and the boy whispers ”Don’t move”. I freeze. I pretend that there is ice seeping into my veins slowly freezing me. The men don’t move either. We stand there for five minutes and suddenly the men nod to each other and leave. We walk straight out of this horrid place. We are left facing a raging river.

“The ‘glasses’, they only sense movement.”

I look at him dumbfounded.

“My name is Jasper by the way”.

“I’m Elle”, I reply breathlessly, “ How do we leave this island?”

“The ‘copter should be here in three, two, one...”  

A helicopter touches down right on top of the building. We grab Chase who is still asleep and scamper up the white dome that just ten minutes ago we had been trapped inside. The helicopter driver is also wearing those glasses. Jasper approaches him and starts punching him in the guts. While the guy is holding his gut, Jasper sneaks up behind him and takes him out. “Grab Chase and get in the ‘copter.” I do as I am told. “Do you know how to fly one of these?” He replies “Um no.” He reaches down into his pants pocket and extracts a pair of the glasses that all the guards were wearing. He tells me “Once I put the glasses on I will know how to fly the ‘copter. But once we touch down, do all you can to get them off me. Because if they are on too long I will get addicted to them”. “How do you know all about these glasses?” I ask. “‘Cause I invented them.” Then he slips on the glasses and the copter takes flight.

The flight lasted about an hour until we started to see land. Jasper began to lower the helicopter into the middle of a street. I got ready to wrestle the glasses from Jasper. The heli touched down and I grabbed Jasper and in one swift movement, yanked the glasses off. “Thanks” he murmured.

“What just happened?”

“Well, I just landed a ‘copter in the middle of a street in...I don’t know. Now where is Chase?”

I hand him the sleeping child. “We need to get him to a hospital now!” Jasper exclaims.

“Well I think our ride has arrived.”

About twelve police cars surround us. We slowly get out of the copter with our hands up. They point all their guns at us. Once they see we are just kids, they all motion to lower the guns. We drop our hands and who I believe is the police chief approaches us. He takes one good look at me and says “Hey, aren’t you that missing girl from Bentley Hollow?” I nod slowly. “Where is the other one then?” I look at the ground. He nods. The policeman looks at Jasper and shouts to his men “cuff him”. He grabs me and pulls me away from Jasper. “Stay away from this one - he is one of the most wanted criminals”

We are shoved into different police cars and taken to the station for interviews.

A couple hours later I am on my way back to Bentley Hollow without Kris. That's what hurts the most. I overheard that the small child Chase was taken to the hospital and is doing a lot better. The police tell me they are rescuing all the kids trapped in that facility. I still wonder what went on there but for now I am satisfied.

Epilogue:

Jasper’s Police Report:

Jasper Cengi Lacelooth is a 16 year-old male.Against his will he got involved in helping the Truce Company create a testing site for mutating children. Jasper and his brother Chase were one of the first kidnapped to be tested on. They soon realized that Jasper was a technological genius. He was threatened with his sanity and his brother’s life to create the glasses. In a couple of months, his picture was leaked and he was added to the most wanted list. The glasses were finally done but Truce realized there were two major flaws. One, the glasses weren't able to sense movement and two, if you wore the glasses too long you started to get “addicted” to them. One man kept his glasses on too long and started putting the glasses on all the others at Truce and soon no one could take the glasses off.  Jasper had already been locked away so he had no knowledge of this. But when the people who entered to feed him,  they always made the same exact path towards him and did all the exact same movements. He put two and two together - all the men were being controlled by the same program, his program. He didn’t know what to do so he made a plan to escape with his brother. He had thought his brother was in Elle’s room but he was wrong and that is how he met Elle. They eventually found his brother and escaped by helicopter and landed on a busy street in Stuart, Florida.

Kris was found later and brought home to her delighted family.

Is happiness available for all or reserved for the privileged few? Regardless, I discovered mine on an early summer morning.

Joy found me sitting on the crisp lawn. Sunflowers patterned the girl's dress, her grip firm as she helped me up off the ground.

I learned that her favorite color was yellow and that she preferred green apples over red. We passed notes in class when the teachers turned their backs and talked on the phone late at night.

We lay in the dewy grass, Joy’s smile as bright as the moon perched above. I drank her in and became intoxicated on nothing else that night.

We fought, we loved, we laughed, and we cried. Though my skin had grown wrinkled, the world was vivid with Joy by my side.

Eventually, Joy passed, and I became bitter. Cloudy days stretched out in agony, and my thoughts were occupied with her and the sole desire to follow her into the next life. I closed my eyes, the sound of a distant lawnmower drowning out all other senses.

She was brilliant, she was beautiful, she was Joy, and she lived a life full of Sorrow.

“Here,” I say to Ace, “for the journey.” I throw him the tan “Life is Good” t-shirt we found for him in Youngstown. It's the little reminders like this that'll hopefully keep him sane, okay, happy.

“Thanks, Cass.” Ace replies, tracing the shirt with his thumb. His voice is slow and smooth like water flowing down a brook, the kind that used to charm all of the teachers.

He was the “brilliant” kid back in grade school. Every single parent-teacher conference that Dad went to, brilliant seemed to be the word of the hour. But Ace's brilliance always came with a minor downside.

Unruly, distracting, they said.

But they always brushed it off.

Boys, they always want to play. It might just be a boy thing, nothing big to worry about.

For a long time, that's what everyone thought it was -- just a boy thing. It was just a boy thing for Ace to flaunt $250 in kids faces to then buy pizza for the entire class. It was just a boy thing that he smashed my cello, the one I spent a year working at Burger King for. It was just a boy thing.

"Once boys get something in their head, who knows what they'll do."

That's what Ace's school therapist told me as I stood in her doorway crying with the bridge of my cello in my hand. That's what she told my Dad when he told her how Ace had stolen his credit card and had chalked up 500$ worth of clothes on it.

Shortly after those incidents, Ace got tested for mental illness. My dad and I thought that we could finally live our lives in peace. Finally we can put a label on Ace, so that when people look at us like we're the ones who are wrong, we have something to blame. But no. Ace received no diagnosis, and going into his high school years we still had no answers.

        Dad and I never gave up, asking everyone we knew if they or someone they knew could tell us anything different. We took Ace to get tested multiple times by countless doctors that all had the same weary stare with the same drooping answer, no diagnosis. And so we lived with Ace's antics and unpredictability all the way up until his junior year, when he hopped on a train to Chicago. He stopped at a motel, tried to get a room, and ended up getting sent to juvie where he stayed until Dad came to pick him up. That time, we were determined to get an answer, and when we went to a new doctor suggested by my teacher Ms. Bordeaux, we got one.

“Ace is bipolar.”

We found an inpatient treatment center in Bridgeport, 45 minutes from where we lived. We'd heard some good things about it from people around town and at the Stone Center, the local place Ace goes to every day. Once we had talked it over with Ace, it was decided that he would attend their six month program in place of senior year.

And now here we are, saying our farewells to Ace.

Dad smooths Ace's loose curls away from his forehead, and their eyes meet. Like they are having a conversation in a room with closed doors and drawn blinds. For a moment we three are not family. For a moment they only have each other.

“You'll be fine? Behave well?” Dad asks, still locked into Ace's stare. Ace snorts and chuckles, replying,

“Yeah, Dad. I'll try.” Mr. Mathis, Ace's new mentor, beckons for Ace to hop into the car, the silver Volkswagon fresh from the car wash. Brushing against my shoulder, Ace throws a kiss on my cheek, and the sun glints in his eyes like a sparkler. Ace throws on the shirt I gave him before ducking into the car. He manages a small wave as he pulls out of the driveway, and as the car shrinks smaller and smaller down our sun-tanned road, I hear him call,

“Don't worry about me.”

Yeah, Ace. I'll try.

*****

It's been four weeks today since Ace left our house. Four weeks since I heard that chocolate smooth voice, four weeks since I saw those curls soft as ribbons, four weeks that I've had “for sures” in my life. That when I came home from school, my house wouldn't be burnt down, reduced to embers and echoes. That when I went upstairs, there was no need to check the number of suitcases in the attic and if the clothes in Ace's closet were still there.

Four weeks where I finally was able to let go.

Of course, I'll can’t let go completely. He sends emails to us sporadically; we've gotten three since he left. He says life at the center isn't that bad. He's met a guy named Peter who's from our town, and they play basketball on the courts together after lunch every day. Mr. Mathis is taking good care of Ace too, they even went out canoeing on the Arbor River together, just the two of them.

Maybe getting away from us was best thing for him.

Right now, I'm sitting on the couch watching 60 Minutes with Dad, him chomping on a bowl of dried oats with a glass of lemonade. I'm not much better, eating Top Ramen with milk. The structure in our lives has broken apart quite a bit since Ace left. This is just a typical dinner, these days.

“Any ideas about your birthday, Cass?” Dad asks, stuffing a fistful of oats into his mouth. I shrug, turning my attention back to the news. I haven't really planned out anything even though my birthday is so close. “It's in three days! Don't you have any idea of what you want to do? Special dinner? Party with friends? Whatever you want.” At school, Rachel and Keith have been pestering me about having a party with the lunch table crew after school on Friday, but I've been trying to avoid the topic. I don't really know if being with all of my friends for my birthday feels right this year.

“How about something just the two of us?” I ask, with a hint of uncertainty in my voice. Is it sad that I want to spend my birthday with my dad instead of my best friends? Dad's eyebrows raise in confusion, his ears tilting to listen. I sigh, sinking my shoulders. “Okay, I get it, we live with each other 24/7, but after all that's happened with Ace, I kind of just want it to be us. But that's okay, right?”

“That's fine, it's great. I just want to do what you want Cass.”

“How about Ray's for dinner?”

“The one in Bridgeport?”

“Yeah. I mean we are going to visit Ace on Monday anyway. Spending the weekend in Bridgeport would be nice. We can go kayaking in the river, too. ”

“Well Cass, you've got a deal. I'll call to make the hotel and dinner reservation right now.”

And so my birthday plans are set. But we still need one more present to bring to Ace on Monday.

Mr. Mathis called Dad last Wednesday to talk to him about Ace's progress.

It's amazing, he said. Your boy Ace, he is responding extremely well.

In the next month, he might even be ready for discharge! At the Center, they have a weekend camping trip up in the Fugit Mountains for the kids who are doing especially well, and Ace was invited to go! He always loves being high up, watching everything happen from above. Because when you're high above everyone else, there is no one with a long enough reach to bring you down.

Dad already has two presents for Ace, the quilt from Ms. Bordeaux and the Beats headphones from us. Originally, he wanted to bring ten presents for Ace, but I was able to convince him that three was the magic number. Sometimes, Dad goes overboard to make up for all the stuff that Ace and I went through as kids. It's enough Dad, I'll say, you're enough for us.

I ended up finding a robotics kit at 936, a robot repair shop downtown. Ace always dreamt of being on our school's robotics team, but his behavioral record was enough for the school to ban him from joining any clubs. Dad and I would bring him the stuff when we could, but between the expense of his meds and his daily visits to Stone Center, we never had money for much. 

*****

The wrapped up presents are sitting in the trunk of the car, nestled between crumpled maps and paper bags. We made it to Ray's, finally, after an accident on the highway put us back an hour. Luckily, Ray's decided to keep our reservation after being reminded by Dad that it was my birthday. Just from the name, you'd expect it to be more of a trucker type place, but it's surprisingly formal. I had to scrounge up a dress that I haven't worn since the 8th grade formal; yes, it's that fancy. Their crab cakes make everything worth it, though.

We scurry in and are seated at a booth by the window. The streets are lonely at this time of night; the street lamp only illuminates a few silhouettes as they pass by. A soft breeze makes the trees shiver, moving their branches ever so slightly.

The night is calm, calm like our house these past few weeks. The calm I wished for my last birthday.

But it's the calm that doesn't ever last long. Dad's phone blares from his pocket, and with a heaving sigh he takes it out and glances at the screen.

Fear and sudden urgency flood his eyes as he jumps from our table, throwing his coat on and grabbing my hand as he pulls me toward the door. People raise their eyebrows at the spectacle, of us leaving our meals untouched, running out with no explanation. They glance at me, sorry I have a madman for a father.

Stumbling down the sidewalk, the braids in my hair beginning to loosen, I manage to croak,

“Why Dad? What's going on? Why?” His voice ragged and out-of-breath, he says,

“It's from Mr. Mathis. It's Ace. Oh god Cass, they can't find him. Cass, he's missing!”And we are like lightning, our car dashing through the street, darting around corners, narrowly missing street signs. There is no one in our way, no one...and then there are sirens. Sirens of a squad car, chasing souls into the night. A battered pink Sudan runs past us, quickly followed by the squad car. They swerve, curving the moonlight as they go past. The driver in the Sudan looks back for a moment, eyes locked on the police. He looks manic. I see the glint of his eyes, the mysterious craze that's washed over his face. It’s too familiar.

Dad and I, for a moment, are the same voice, same mind. And we whisper:

Ace. 

Just like that, we are one in the chase. Just as the two cars disappear around a corner, they come into few again. Soon we are spiraling up a hill, like ice skaters we glide over the cement, the top of the hill in our sights. 

I feel a small rumble in the backseat. A few small tremors that turn into full on earthquakes in a matter of seconds. We are lurching up the hill, plumes of smoke erupting from our trunk. The tremors subside, and there is a brief silence in the air, followed by a push that sends us back down the hill into the grass. 

My ears stretch, reaching to hear any sign of the siren. It seems only a faint echo now, almost as though it has stopped ringing completely.

Suddenly a hand grips my arm, and my gaze rises to my father's face. He bleeds terror like blood. Like it is what he is made of. Like it runs through his veins.

“Cass, you’ve got to run, you have to catch up! With my legs, I can’t. There’s hope, Cass. Please. Go.” 

Against the pavement my feet were like fire, zipping across the landscape, tearing apart the land at the seams and consuming it with determination. Bram's heartbeat fills the air, a hammer splintering the inside of my head with each pulse. He is close.

Reaching the top of the hill, there are three cars facing each other, the two police cars and the Sudan. The guns hiss threats at me, squirming in their cases. None of them have heard or seen me yet, and they won’t. Not unless something really bad is going to happen. I duck behind the Sudan, looking beneath the car to the six feet shuffling in front of me. Their shouts rain down like meteors crashing down from the sky. Bram is spewing insults at the officers like they are his language. And all of a sudden, I hear Bram’s heels digging into the cement. Now, his words are tripping over themselves, with every syllable they quicken. The sound of Bram's breaths filling the entire sky. They are persistent, they are urgent. 

His feet disappear from my view beneath the car, and without a second thought my legs push me upright. He is running down the road, each stride so afraid yet so invincible at the same time. 

But each step he takes is one too many.

Because the two policemen whip out their weapons like it's in their nature and shots fire, the bullets weaving through the darkness like they have eyes. As they collide with my brother, they send screeches into the night. But I realize that the screeches belong to my brother. 

"Ace!” I call, my voice made broken glass. “Ace, Ace!” The silence that follows each word hits like a fist in my heart, ripping the fabric of my soul to pieces. I run towards him, the indecipherable heap on the ground. The police watch me, keeping their guns silent

Falling beside him, I just shatter. My tears are knives, carving gashes into my cheek as they plod down my face. Each staggering breath I take only suffocates me more. I am caving in on the inside, each molecule in my body collapsing, too weak to carry on. 

My hands are coated in his blood, and it is filled with his future, his dreams. Reminding me of all the things that Ace still needed to do.

There are so many people I can think of that failed him. Why didn't his grade school teachers ever see that maybe he needed a little extra help? Why didn't his therapist see that maybe, his problems were different. Why didn't Mr. Mathis watch him more closely?

But look at me. The one who failed at being his sister when I should've been, failed at being his protector when he needed me.

I am the one who truly failed Ace. 

How My Life Changed in One Night

“Wait for thirty minutes for the hair dye to settle in your hair, then wash the black color dye out thoroughly while being careful not to get it in contact with your eyes.”

Oh, Hello I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Annabelle Alexander but everyone just calls me Ann. I am seventeen years old and going to return to Queen Elizabeth High after summer break ends.

 Just a minute ago, I was trying to read the directions on the hair dye box. Before I began, I straightened out my curly blonde locks and cut my hair so that it resulted in shoulder length hair. Additionally, I cut my bang which was not very hard because I have done it before on my best friend at a slumber party.

This idea of changing my hair has been worming itself in my head until I finally took the plunge. I doubt my mother had this idea in her head, when she told me I could have some fun on my own.

“Ann, Tim, it’s high time you came down! I’ve been calling you down for a long time!”, my mother yelled from the bottom of our curved stairway.

My mom, Mrs. Ellen Watson, works part time as a nurse at Moorfields Hospital in central London.

“OK, coming!” I yelled back as I washed my hair and dried it.

“Yes mum?” Tim asked.

Timothy is my fourteen-year-old brother. Like any teenage boy, he is interested in his computer and comic collections. Me? I prefer to read fiction books and draw anime characters.

“We have to talk about something very important, so listen closely.” My father announced as I entered the sitting room.

My father, on the other hand, works as a professor at the University of London and One of his favorite things is to keep us waiting in suspense until he is satisfied that we are paying close attention.

“Your mother and I are going shopping on West Street for about an hour or so. I need you both to take good care of each other. Ann, you are obviously in charge. We probably…”

“Whatever have you done to your hair, Ann? It looks very different!” asked my mother, astonished at the sight of it.

I did not have to say anything because I knew my father despises being interrupted.

“Never mind that. We will be back around dinner time but if we get delayed, then you both can have dinner together.” My father continued, then waited for my mother to add anything.

“You may always call me, Father, or Aunt Josephine if there is an urgent emergency.”

Aunt Josephine is my mother’s younger sister who works as a marketing and sales director. Her house is a twenty-minute drive from our penthouse.”

“Bye then!” Dad said while putting on his coat and wellies. Ugh, rain. Typical London weather.

“Bye!”, Tim and I said together.

“Hope it all goes well! This is the first time you two are home alone. Don’t forget to take care of Tim!”, mother said as she hugged as both, then proceeded to slam the door.

As soon as they left, I felt like an adult, and I wanted everything to go well and fight-free.

“Right, so what do you want to do first?” I asked my brother.

“I want to watch a horror movie.” He replied.

“Sure, I can microwave a package of butter popcorn.”, I said after all I did not want to pick the movie just in case Tim thinks I am too bossy.

Tim then chose a random movie that he said he had heard about.

After watching the jump-scare movie and arguing playfully in the middle who got scared the most, I made frozen cheese pizza in the oven. Then I loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the table and the counters just to make mother and father pleased with me.

“Umm, why aren’t they back yet! It’s almost half past eleven! Tim asked.

He was right. The long hand on the clock was moving closer to six.

“Where could they be?”, I wondered aloud.

“They said they will be back in maximum two hours.”, Tim responded.

“I think we should head up to bed. I am worried to but we probably will see them in the morning.”

“But I really want to stay up until they come back.”, said Tim.

I was about to agree until he yawned very loudly, and so I decided that we should go to sleep, but kept on thinking that something must have happened to them.

“Come on let’s go to sleep.” I said.

“OK”

“Look, I am sure everything will be fine by tomorrow morning.” I said, trying my best to lessen the look of worry on my brother’s face but lying through my teeth at the same time.

We then headed up to our own spacious rooms, and Tim decided to sleep in the same room as me, this time shaking a little bit.

Next morning, we woke up at 8:30am to find the house oddly still and so the first thing we did was that we checked their bedroom. Empty. Loo? Empty. They could not have gone to work because they leave for work at 9:30am and it was a Saturday morning anyway. We phoned mum and all we heard was, “This number is not available now. Please leave your number and your message after the beep.”

Father’s phone was a repeat performance of what happened when phoning mother. Now we were extremely desperate.

Our last hope was Aunt Josephine. I phoned her up on speaker phone so my brother could hear, thankfully she responded.

“Hello, who is this?”, asked Aunt Josephine.

“Ann and Tim.”, I responded.

“What is it you want to talk to me about?”

“We were wondering if you heard anything about mum and dad. They left to go shopping last night and did not come back so do you know…”

Tim’s words were cut off by a loud gasp.

“Aunt Josephine! Aunt Josephine! Are you alright?” Tim asked.

“Oh my goodness!”, exclaimed Aunt Josephine, “There has been a tragic accident! Pack up your bags, you two are moving in with me now.”

What on earth has happened? I wondered, surely they did not die!

By the time my aunt arrived to pick us up, we had collected all our belongings in one suitcase for each one of us.

As we sat down in the car and were belted, my aunt began to explain to us what happened.

“In the newspaper it said that your wonderful parents…”, she stopped to blow her nose, “Your parents have been among the unfortunate five people that were eaten by a rhino who managed to escape London Zoo. Please forgive me for not telling you this earlier, I just found out this morning…”

My aunt’s sentence trailed off. I could not stop the tears from gushing down my face. Tim started crying uncontrollably too. No wonder they had not come. I felt so terrible for them. Their hopes and dreams all perished in one moment. I immediately remembered the last sentence mum said to me. “Hope it all goes well! This is the first time you two are home alone. Don’t forget to take care of Tim!”

Take care of Tim. Take care of Tim. The words echoed in my head for the rest of the ride.

“We’re home!”, Aunt Josephine said with a small smile, trying to lift up our spirits.

Tim, who was speechless during the whole ride, managed to give her a wiry smile through his tears.

The house was so pretty, the bright green trees behind the house, the sun casting shadows on them, birds chirping, and squirrels running. It was the best welcome I had ever had to a new house.

Everything went smoothly as we settled in the new home. We had our own rooms once again and huge libraries and swimming pools.

Then one sudden day, six months after we settled in, my brother and I caught sight of a rhino coming from a random zoo, and hurrying down the block where there was an outdoor festival going on. Tim called the zookeepers and told them about the situation. The zookeepers managed to catch the rhino in time and everything went back to normal in the zoo.

To this day, as I am telling this story for the umpteenth time, I am proud to be a professional zookeeper.

"It's coming!"

The whispers spread through the halls as Principal Johnson stalked over, senior class rank in his hands. Rarely did the postings draw such a commotion, but every May, the entire student body gathered to find out who the valedictorian was. Not to know the graduation speaker, no: to complete #1 on the senior scavenger hunt.

Every senior class of worth has a list to be completed after college acceptances, and all traditionalists have "#1: film the valedictorian doing something illegal." In preparation, the jocks had staked out Pam S., the cheerleaders John G., the rich kids Rebecca B., and the stoners Oliver X. 

When posted, the news spread like wildfire: text alerts screamed as everyone frantically sought the dark horse, Alina M..

Alina's phone buzzed and she smiled, glad she could execute her idea. Sarah, a cheerleader, sprinted over. Before she opened her mouth to flatter, Alina stopped her. Sarah had always been nice; Alina might as well give this win to her.

"Film this!" she whispered, urgently. Sarah nodded, although confused as to why.

Smirking, Alina walked away. She skipped right across the street, skirting around slow-moving cars, then turned back to Sarah. 

"Jaywalking's still illegal, right?"

The darkness that surrounded us was almost suffocating, wrapping around us as a snake would its prey. The headlights cast a light no more than four feet in front of our car. The silence that echoed between us enunciated the alienation. In the distance along the horizon a small light appeared. It grew larger as we sped towards it. Slowly, the blob of light separated into into smaller blobs which became houses, each one an exact replica of the one before. We turned off the dark road and onto a brightly lit residential street, there are no people to be seen. Houses decked with Christmas lights lined the sidewalks, the bushes out front all pruned to perfection, the grass cut to the same length. I wondered, foolishly, if I were to put a ruler next to each blade, would they all measure the same? I felt my mouth drop open in awe as my eyes pass over them, trying in vain to take them all in.“They’re beautiful.” I murmured, glancing over at my mother, as if for approval. The car window filtered the light, casting an eerie glow on her face, deepening the frown that was etched there. “Hardly. They are all the same, each and every one of them, nothing special or extraordinary about them. Nothing worth the enormous amounts of money that must have been forked over to pay for them. They’re just...plain.”

“But they’re still beautiful- I mean look at them all together, uniform and neat.” I responded. “Sure,” my mother said. “ Together they are beautiful, when there is nothing to compare them to. Of course there is something pleasing about the unity of it, but as soon as you add a different house to the bunch, that all goes away. You can have twelve houses with all the same floors, siding, and roofs, but throw in a thirteenth house with a balcony or a wraparound porch and the original twelve fade into the background, going unnoticed in favor of the more interesting house. You wouldn’t want to live in one of those.”

“Maybe I would. The outside might be plain but what about the inside, you could decorate it however you want, with whatever you want.” I said. My mother sighed, her disappointment evident.

“Yes, but who’s going to see the inside? Only those people that are closest to you. The inside can be as personal as you want it but what does that matter. Like it or not, the only thing that really matters is what the world sees, and the inside means very little to those that can’t see it. A plain-looking house will automatically be branded as just that, regardless of if there is a slide inside connecting the third floor to the basement or a lap pool. What can be seen on the outside is what will be judged. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

And at the time I really thought that I did. I thought that my mother’s words went no deeper than comparing a house with a slide to one with a white-picket fence. In time, however, as the words continued to come back to me and I worked to puzzle them out, I would come to understand them as they applied to more than houses, as they applied to people. I would realise that hidden within those words was the essence that a person can be as interesting as possible on the inside, but as long as they look and act like every other incredibly interesting person in this world they will never stand out. And maybe people don’t want to stand out, maybe that’s why styles are so popular. If everyone is waxing their eyebrows and wearing shirts that expose their belly buttons then why shouldn’t I right? God forbid any originality in teens.

And the problem is, that’s how everyone thinks of it. So, rather than being rewarded for their originality and differences, a person that strays outside the norm is considered weird or atypical. They are, in some cases, forced to conform to these standards designed by the unknown, whether they are bullied or simply don’t feel comfortable in situations where they stand out. As if their choices scream please judge me or I am uncomfortable rather than what they should say, I am different and I couldn’t care less what you think about it because I’m happy. Yet still, these things are not conveyed, these meanings lost in translation, and that’s just the way it works.

But what is the point of living if you are going to be exactly like everyone else? What makes you special, what makes it so that you couldn’t be replaced by any other faceless person with perfect eyebrows? What is your wraparound porch, your slide, your lap pool? What are these things that you keep hidden because they single you out as different? Find them and show them to the world. Search deep within yourself for the things that separate you from others. Do not be afraid to show the world that you are different, that you are special, that you have something to offer that help to stop you from being this tiny, insignificant speck in the large scale of time, that you are not just a cookie cutter house.

Of course, there is always the possibility that my mother meant none of these things that night and therefore everything I have just said carries little weight. There is always the possibility that people don’t want to be their own person simply because they like looking like everyone else, they’re comforted by the fact that they can wake up, walk outside and see people that look exactly like them. Maybe the reason all the houses looked the same was because the ones that were different didn’t sell very well because no one likes wraparound porches or indoor slides, all people want are the perfectly pruned bushes and neatly mowed lawns. I mean who am I to say. I’m just a tiny speck after all.  

I hear bells ring decisively, but then the ring fades out to sea where the waves soar as high as seagulls that come down from the sky every once and awhile to pick around at the hot sand that blazes through my skin right down to my soul.  I feel my heart burn with a fiery passion for the blazing sun, the swoosh of the waves that has the freshest of breezes that I have ever known, a breeze that flows through my hair in a perfect pattern, a breeze that covers the land. I see the clouds start to gray, and the breeze turns into wind putting the world into a buzz of flying sand that fill my ears reducing the sound of crashing waves. I can taste the salt coming off the sea. Now it's all coming so fast that the world starts to tilt as I get dizzier and dizzier. The wind rushes through me and I fall to the ground down to the now wet sand that pulls shivers through my spine. I can’t see a thing as the sand mixes with salt. The sand is flying everywhere, it gets in my mouth it feels like gravel and tastes like dirt. I can no longer do anything but wonder and think about what if this and what if that had happened, maybe then I would be safe. But none of that matters now for it’s what I deserve for doing this horrible thing, I deserve to drift out to sea and feel all the air leave me as I drown in my guilt.

One Week Earlier

People keep wishing me a happy birthday which I guess is a nice gesture but it was not going to be a good birthday. All I can think about is the pounding in my head, the soreness of my throat, and how congested my nose is. I just want to go home and go to bed and maybe watch a movie with my boyfriend Jake. But I can’t cut classes because well I’m a nerd and I love college so I wouldn't dream of skipping classes. The weird thing is, I haven’t seen Jake or a lot of my close friends at all today. I should be paying attention but my history teacher has a voice that just makes you fall asleep. I was so close to sleep when a loud high pitched noise stopped me it took me a couple of seconds to realize that it was the bell. I moved across the classroom but my feet felt like big hunks of metal that made it very hard to walk. I have to concentrate very hard on getting my feet to move up and down as I move across the parking lot. When I reach my car I slam down into the driver’s seat and start driving. The trip feels so much longer than usual so by the time I got to the house that I share with three other girls, I was exhausted. The door creaked when I opened it. I went straight up to my room, dropped all my stuff on the ground, set an alarm for 5:00, flopped down on my bed and closed my eyes. Ding dong “Kimberly are you home,” someone yelled.  ding dong  “KIMBERLY OPEN THE DOOR!” they yelled again I heard the door creak open

“Hello um who are you?” said my roommate Lexi.

   “Um I’m Natasha, Kimberly's sister,” my sister replied. I heard some more muffled talking but I was so excited I ran down the stairs.

“NATASHA!” I yelled as I flung my arms around my sister “you didn’t tell me you were coming to visit,” I said when I had calmed down.

“Well it’s your birthday so I thought I would surprise you with a visit,” she said with a tone that said she was sorry that she didn’t tell me she was coming.

“You know someday you may just give me a heart attack,” I said in a joking tone.

“Sorry,” Natasha said in a sarcastic sad voice.

“You want to come up to my room?” I asked

“Oh yeah, sure, sounds good,” she said as she got up from the couch. “Um, I hope I didn’t startle your roommate” Natasha whispered.

“Well, you’re lucky it was Lexi that was home and not Maddy. Maddy can seem a bit harsh if you don’t know her,” I replied.

“Do you want to go to a bar this evening to get the full experience of turning 21, I mean come on there's no school tomorrow so I can persuade you to try something new, plus you’ll have time for homework over the weekend,” said Natasha. “Please” she added.

“Well okay, but don’t get any ideas because I’m not going to drink anything,” I replied.

At 9:00 we left the house and Natasha drove towards the bar. We got out of the car and walked to the door. When we got to the door there was a man that asked for our ID’s. He reminded me that I couldn’t drink until midnight. We opened the door and walked in and all of my friends popped out at me and blew on those stupid kazoo-like things that unroll when you blow in it. Natasha turned to me and said, “Look, so I know that you don’t like surprises but your boyfriend Jake reached out to me and he wanted to do something special for you… just please don’t be mad and try to have a good time”.

“I’m not mad, I actually think it’s kind of sweet, speaking of which I would like to talk to Jake. Do you know where he is?” I said.

“Yeah, he’s right over there,” Natasha replied.

“Okay, I’ll be right back!” I yelled as I made my way through the crowd. When I finally spotted Jake I yelled to him “Oh JAKE, JAKE, OVER HERE”

“Hey, how do you like the party,” he said

“It’s nice but I was wondering if you would like to maybe go on a boat ride with me?” I asked.

“I’d love to, as long as I’m with you,” he whispered in my ear. We tip-toed to the back door and snuck out. We got into Jake’s car and drove off to the place where you can rent a boat and we went out on the lake. The boat drifted on the lake and we just stayed there in that perfect moment for an amazing half hour but then it all started to turn, the boat started to rock and move, the boat was tipping and Jake couldn’t swim. “JAKE” I yelled

   “I’m here,” he said. I gripped his hand but he was already slipping, falling away from me, and I couldn’t get him back.

I remember. The orange groves. The rain. We were children then, and you told me you had a favorite tree, but I told you oranges are just oranges, that you can’t have a favorite tree with oranges. You pointed to one in the middle of the grove.

“That one,” you said, as you sat down beneath its leaves, letting your raincoat meld into the mud as you put your hand on the trunk. “It’s special. I feel it.”

I wanted to say something. I wanted to start an argument perhaps, wanted to see you mad for a while. For fun. But I held my breath as I sat down beside you, letting you ramble on and on, letting you speak your nonsense while I picked the dirt from underneath my nails and chewed them to stubs. I wish I saved your words in firefly jars, I wish I captured your smile and laugh in unbreakable amber. I wish I held onto you as time split us apart, and as I sit down beneath your favorite orange tree now, rotting and old, I’ll put my hand on the trunk as you did and try to feel something too.

Based off the song lyrics of; “Mountain At My Gates” by Foals

“I see a mountain at my gates.

I see it more and more each day.

What I give it takes away,

Whether I go or when I stay.”

I sit on my front porch staring at the mountain that looms in front. Growing up in this home it has never left. I have been alone as long as I can remember. All that I can remember from my younger days is a vague figure walking off our porch. Everyday I wait for them to come back; to remember they left me. Deep down I know they won’t.

If I can’t help it, my mind wanders to what life would be like without the mountain. If the mountain just disappeared. When I do I feel free, like a weight was lifted off my back. I try not to think like that because I know the mountain will never move. It will always be there.

“I see a mountain in my way,

It’s looming larger by the day,

I see a darkness in my fate.”

The day something happens in my life seems farther and farther away. The long, dark shadow of the mountain hangs over me, like the clouds on a rainy day. Leaving me sitting there hoping for a brighter day, with nothing to grasp. No control. Here sitting on my porch, waiting for something that I know won’t happen, to happen. My future seems repetitive and gloomy.

The shiny glint given off the tip of the mountain blinds me, yet I cannot pry my eyes off of it. The coniferous trees running up and down it provide its nightmare-ish nature that it imposes upon me. The look that it could pounce on me at any moment. Without warning, it could strike. Now, each day I get a bigger impression that this is how my life is and will always be.

“Oh gimme some time,

Show me a foot hole

From which I can climb.”

Tonight's a night in which I don’t sleep, I lay thinking with my eyes open. Tonight seems different. I feel something new bubbling inside of me. A defiance of my life. A push to find something. I quickly try to push out this feeling. It’s stupid. I have to accept my life as it is. It won’t change. I feel the fight that has been bottled up all of these years burst to the top. I jump out of bed and run.

Blindly I run with no destination. I burst through my gates and towards the mountain. After running about half a mile I collapse. I lay there for a long time. Asking myself what came over me. How did I get here? I finally look up to see the mountain hanging over me.

Now is my time. I imagine all of the amazing things that are over this mountain. I push myself up and start to climb. Starting up the mountain is easy. Though there is gravel and loose rocks, I traverse rather easily. I look up to see how much farther there is to go. I wish I didn’t as the terrain gets much steeper as I go. “There will be no stopping.” I tell myself. I force my body on into the night.

Morning has come. At some point I must have collapsed during the night. I am now surrounded  by pine trees. The trees cast an eerie shadow over me. They almost seem as if they are forming a path for me. I decide to follow the one direction I know. Up.

After several hours of treacherous climbing I step in something. My foot is stuck in it. Mud. I turn to the left and see a stream. I sprint over and drink as much as I can. The cool spring water soothing my throat. The stream is running downwards so I follow it up the mountain stopping to drink every so often. A ledge comes up in front of me. I turn to the right and see what I have to face. An almost vertical cliff made of gravel.

Facing this is the last thing I need. I can almost smell the peak now. I am ¾ of the way there. I have one last challenge. Here it is. I place my foot on the gravel. I slip. I need a plan. I reach for a tree on my right. Since the terrain is so steep, the tree grows on a slant allowing me to step on it with ease. The trees form a makeshift staircase forme as I make my way up the side. All this time looking up on the mountain, it is almost my time to look down on it. It is my time to conquer MY mountain.

After I’m past the steep part, I can see the peak about 50 feet above me. The stretch in front of me is almost nothing. All I have to do place my feet in the right places and I’m there. After ten minutes of climbing I reach a ledge that if I climb onto I can reach the peak easily. I grab it and pull myself up. I’m now three step away from the peak. 3 steps. 2 steps. 1 step. I reach out with my left hand and touch the peak. Pride courses through my body. I did it! I’ve conquered the mountain. I take one last look at the speck that was my house. I imagine the gates still burst wide open and my sheets still tangled. I decide it is time to look at the other side.

I gasp. The other side is filled with specks. Specks in the shapes of houses. Hundreds of them. I wonder if there are more people. Maybe more people like me. I can’t hold back anymore and start to run down the mountain. The terrain is much easier on this side and I can move quickly. I will soon be there.

The sound of music hits my ears and I know I belong here. Everyone here has there own mountain. And now I know that this is my home.

“Oh, when I come to climb,

show the mountain so far behind.”