As I sit at the desk and apply my makeup in my bedroom I sit and admire myself in the mirror thinking how  good I look. I knew no man could resist me especially grown men they all wanted a piece of this and I have no issue giving it up either. There’s enough of me to go around I would always say, but this was until I met this fine man at the corner store by my house. He was  gorgeous I could not take my eyes off him he was everything I liked in a man, he had strong muscles, dark skin, tall, sexy deep voice dressed nicely and smelled so good I couldn’t resist. We kept eye contact the entire time at the store I almost forgot about what I came to get. Meanwhile at the store while his fine self was up paying for his cigarettes, crackhead Quan comes in and tries to rob the place for the 5th time this week “break all yall selves fool” stupid man comes in with the same water gun nobody pays this man no mind because he’s crazy, he thinks he’s robbing the store for all of their money but the owner gives him monopoly money to make him think he’s got something. The man can’t tell the difference between play money and real money shaking my head I see why schools enforces the quote say no to drugs. “ Wassup lil mama what’s your name” the man said to me “Egypt what’s yours” I said to him back, but he didn’t answer he just continued to stare me down like I was dessert

“Hello?? You deaf or something” I said loudly “ sorry lil mama you just so damn fine but um my name is charles, how old are you?” I knew this question was popping up it never fails I suppose I should tell him that i’m really 16 but a little white lie couldn’t hurt nobody plus I want him that bad “21 how old are you?” I quickly said back to him “oh you just a baby huh?”  “wait a minute what you mean?” I snapped back with a attitude “chill lil mama i’m just joking with a chuckle, ugh he was annoying my ass already but I can look past it cause i’m 100% positive i’m going to make him mine.

“Where you from lil mama?” goodness gracious if he don’t stop calling me that he can forget about talking to me  “it’s not lil mama, my name is Egypt” he chuckled again

“My bad lil...I mean Egypt just something i’m used to saying” I grinned at him and asked if he was taken, “nah to be honest I been single for a while Egypt but what about you I know you can’t be single with all that waggon you dragging” he said to me and he was right I got men lined up to be with me whenever I want some. Far as I’m concerned they all my boyfriends but I won’t tell him that though “actually i’m single myself I been lonely for a while and been looking for a man to give me what I need” I said with a smile “well look no further sweetheart I’m all yours” ugh he’s corny too but I can look past that as well. “Why don’t you come by my house later on tonight and we can discuss more about ourselves alright?” I whispered to him in his ear in a soft sexy tone “damn girl i’m way ahead of you, send me your address and i’ll come thru around 9:00 tonight” damn   now I’m excited I can’t wait to get this man wrapped around my little finger I thought to myself “alright sounds great boo see you then”.

I’m at home rearranging my room to make him believe I am the age I say I am  so I took  my bedspread off and replaced it with my mother’s.  I turned my pandora on to the Jaquees station while I hopped in the shower cause he was gonna be here any minute. As I hopped out the shower I lotioned myself with Victoria’s Secret strawberries and champagne body lotion, men go crazy over this scent it’s all I use, I got a text message I think it was him “i’m outside baby girl open the door” it was him and i’m more than ready for him to get this lovin I texted back “ here I come daddy just getting dressed” I hurried up and put on this sexy red lace thong and a matching bra and walked to the door to greet him in. He picked me up by my waist and we started kissing he was carrying me to the room as I was kissing on his neck he laid me down on the bed and began by getting on top I swear this by far was the best I ever had this was more than just typical sex I felt a connection here the way he was making me feel the way he made me scream it’s like he was meant to be in my life. I really think he could be the one “you sure you can take all of it” he whispered in my ear I moaned softly yes, just as we were about to reach our climax I heard the front door unlock and open “Egypt i’m home” oh shit get off me that’s my mom “wait what’s your mom doing here? What you scared for you grown right?” he was stuck with a confused face and I had no explanation I kept stuttering and struggling to get my words out “I am..I mean umm, well omg”  “are you or aren’t you? My mom busted through my bedroom door with a angry look on her face “Charles?” she said loudly “Lawanda?” he said back omg how do they know each other this can’t be happening “mom how do you know each other?, what’s going on?” I began to cry.

“Well sweetheart this man you were just having sex with...he’s your father and he’s H.I.V positive that’s the reason mommy been so sick for the last 16 years” a tear shedded from her eyes omg I couldn’t help but cry out “you’re my father” with a shaken voice “I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know” he said to me but it didn’t make it no better I knew this time I messed up badly “get out of my house I cried out” he got his stuff on and left who knew the only man that gotten me to fall in love would be my own father.   

 

 

Part 1

"My mom is here," My best friend, Loralei, states as she stands from my bed. She tells me she has a really bad headache.
"I hope you feel better soon." I stand up and hug her.
"Thanks, man” she smiles and heads toward my door. "I uhh..." she rests her hand on the doorknob for a moment. "Never mind." she opens up the door and bolts down the stairs.
"Wait! Don't say never mind to me!" I run after her. "What were you gonna say?"

"Nothing, it's not important." she slipped into her blue high-top Vans.
"Yes it is. Tell me now!" I demand.

She looks up at me, her golden brown eyes sparkling. She opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by the horn of her mother’s car. “I’ll tell you later.”

I sigh,”Okay.”

“I love you.” she says.

I’m surprised to hear those words. She doesn’t usually express her feelings for people so easily.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Wow. I tell you I love you and you ask if I’m okay? What the hell?” she gets snobby.

“No, sorry. I love you too.”

She sighs. “Alright bye.”

“See ya.” I respond and watch her walk out the door, closing it behind her.

As I head back to my room my twin brother, Aric comes up from the basement and follows me.

“Violet, you’ve gotta look at this picture that River sent me.” he laughs.

River is Aric’s best friend. He has a massive crush on me.

“Not right now, man. I’m tired.” I lay down on my hot pink comforter.

“Come on, just look at it.” he begs.

“Okay.” I say.

He hands me his gold iPhone5 and I see Miley Cyrus with no teeth. I roll my eyes and begin scrolling through his pictures. Mostly stupid selfies. I come across something that made me stop, though. It was words, like a small poem.

“What’s more deadly?” I begin to read out loud. “A gun or a thought.” I look up at him. “A gun gives you the opportunity but a thought pulls the trigger.”

“Give me my phone.” he demands.

I scroll over once more and see a picture of razor blades, a lighter, and cigarettes - and at the bottom it says: “Life.”

“Aric?” I look at him again.

“That’s nothing, give me my phone.” He reaches for it, but I move in the opposite direction so he can’t reach it.

I scroll over once more and see a picture of his arm...and there are cuts.

I look away and lock his phone before handing it to him. He shuts my door and sits down next to me.

“Don’t tell dad. Or mom. Don’t tell anybody.” he says.

“To hell I’m not telling anybody.” I say. “Show me.”

“No.” he says. “Why would you want to see?”

“Because I need to know how bad it is.” I say.

“No.” he stands up.

“Show me or I’m telling.” I say.

He sits back down.”So if I show you, you won’t tell?”

“Maybe.”

He sighs and sits in silence for a moment before slowly rolling his sleeves up and showing me all his scars. There were so many. In all directions. My eyes begin to water. “This is my fault.” I whisper.

“No it’s not, Violet. It’s my choice.” he says.

“Get out of my room.” I say.

“Violet-”

“Get out!” I yell.

He leaves without another word.

I slam my door shut and scream into my pillow until I fall asleep.

 

My eyes flutter open. I slowly begin to remember what happened.

I pick up my iPhone5c and click the button on top. My background is a drawing of an arm with a ribbon around it saying ‘and if you want to cut yourself remember that I love you.’ River set it for me when he found out I cut. He’s so sweet.

The time is 3:16 A.M. on April 12.

A voice message pops up. It’s from Loralei. That’s weird, I didn’t see a missed call from her or even hear the phone ring. I slide my finger across the smooth screen and type in my passcode: 3 1 8 2

The voice messages automatically pop up. I click play and speaker and her voice begins to fill my ears.

Hello? Are you there? Listening?” she sounds slightly intoxicated. “I'm just trying to get in touch man. I've been so fucking, so fucking down lately. Like, I don't know what's happening. I'm just so tired all the time. Trying to sleep. I just...I just lay there quiet. Can't speak ‘cause everyone around me is passed out. My fucking mind's raging. Uh, hello? I don't even know why I called. I think it...I think it might be time for me to leave. Just call it quits. I'm sick of this. It's the same fucking day, every day.” she pauses for a bit. “I think I sleep, I can't be sure though. It's all the same now. Drink, drink, drink again. I'm tired man. I think it...you don't want to hear this. I'm a mess. I'm sorry man. I just don't know who to turn to. No one really hears me, you know? I speak...at least I think I speak, but no one hears me. I've said enough. Hello? Hello? I shouldn't have called...

“No...” I whisper as I click the home button and touch the calling icon and dial her number. I put her on speaker once she answers.

“Violet...” she whines.

“Loralei!” I exclaim. “I’m coming to get you.”

“No...Violet. My parents are sleeping.” she sniffles. She sounds more intoxicated than before.

“No, I’m coming to get you right now. You need me!” I leave my room and go into my parents’ room. “Mom! Dad! We need to go get Loralei now!!”

“I love you, man.” Loralei speaks once more. “Goodbye.”

My phone goes silent.

“No!” I exclaim and try to call her back but she doesn’t answer.

“Violet, what’s wrong?” My mom sits up.

“We need to go get Loralei right now! I think she’s going to kill herself!” I yell.

“Calm down!” my dad rolls out of bed and puts a shirt on.

My tears are running black as coal. I run downstairs and see Aric sleeping on the couch instead of the basement. It’s my fault he cuts himself. I exposed him to it.

My dad comes downstairs not  far behind me.”Get your shoes on.”

I slip into my black vans and run out the door, hopping into our blue minivan and buckling my seat belt.

Dad gets in next to me and does the same before starting the car and pulling off.

It took us 15 minutes of silent worry before we arrived at Loralei’s home. I jumped out of the van as soon as it stopped and busted into her house after running up to the door.

“Loralei?!” I exclaimed. I got no response. “Loralei?!” I yelled again. Still nothing.

I ran upstairs to her room. I opened the door slowly in fear of what I may see.

She wasn’t there. Instead I found a small envelope on her bed. I picked it up and opened it. Inside was a note and three razor blades. I put them in my pocket and ran back downstairs to the kitchen. She wasn’t there either.

Where could she be? I thought to myself. Then I got an idea. The garage.

Tears continue to run down my face as I run through the kitchen to the garage door. It’s unlocked...

I open the door slowly and scream when I see her just swinging by her neck there in the softly fading light. Her chest has ceased its movements.

Dad runs up behind me just in time to catch me as my legs turn to jello. I turn into a ball and cry into his chest. “NO!” I scream. “THIS IS MY FAULT!”

He rocks me back and forth and tries to comfort me. “No it’s not, Violet. It’s not your fault, I promise.”

After a while I bring myself together and stand up. Dad is on the phone with a 911 operatorand Loralei’s drunk parents are still upstairs sleeping.

Dad steps away from the door, leaving me alone with her. I walk toward her and touch her wrist. Her young blood has run so cold. There was a snapping noise and her body fell to the floor. I screamed once more as she lay there still. I knelt down next to her and touch her forehead. “I love you so much, Loralei, please wake up.”

I wipe away my tears and pull her note out. I began to read it out loud.

 

I’ll never know what lead me down that path. What made me lose my grasp. I’ve lived behind a mask for so long, so few know who I am.

I’m sorry, Violet. You were the only one there. The only one who cared. You were the greatest

friend I ever had. I just couldn’t take it anymore. Just hold me in your heart.

Please don’t follow my footsteps, cherish all you have left.

So if I hurt you, if I let you down...just remember we were close, we were down. And there are far too many reasons for you to stay here on this earth.

I just...have nothing else to say.

I love you and goodbye.

-Loralei

Part 2

That was six months ago today. Her parents have moved away. I haven’t heard from them since. Aric’s cutting has gotten worse. He’s now been hospitalized three times.

She would have been 15 four days after me and Aric. Our birthday is September 11th and Loralei’s was September 15th. I didn’t celebrate my birthday this year. It’s just that...nothing feels right without her. Like, I don’t even want to be happy without her to be happy with.

 

I pulled my notebook out from under my pillow and opened it to the page with my pen. I began to write.

 

Loralei,

Have you looked up lately and seen the cold lonely skies? And looked into the mirror but seen my black lonely eyes?

I need someone to take my hand, it feels like I can’t breathe.

I just wish that you spoke up and held out your hand because you know I was there, man. You know that I cared.

Just know that I know you went through the same shit even if you were too fucking proud to admit.

And now that you’re gone I feel I’m to blame.

I WANTED TO HEAR IT, I WANTED TO KNOW!

I’ve been grieving so much with each passing day. But I’m angry and hurt and I hate you all the same.

I know you hated life even more with each breath. I know now that you did not have any fight left.

I know you were grieving with each passing day. And I know most of all you did not want to stay.

I love you.

-Violet

 

I sighed, closed my notebook and slid it back under my pillow along with my pen.

I clicked my lamp off and rolled over to sleep.

 

I gently glide the razor across my left wrist.

“Stop that.” she whispers as she places her hand on my shoulder.

I close my eyes. “But it’s all I have left since you went away.” Tears run down my cheeks. Trailing to the tip of my nose. Falling to my hands. “I want to see you again.”

“No, sweetie. Not this way.” she turns me around but I keep my head down. “I hate to see you like this.”

“I miss you.” I cry.

“I miss you too” she says.”There’s no one there on the other side. There’s nothing more than what I had.”

I look up at her. Those golden brown eyes sparkling just the way they used to.

“I just know that I would have been better off if I had stayed, spoken to a friend. Let my heart keep on beating and not given it all up.”

I sniffle. “I wanna come with you so bad.”

“But Violet, are you ready to make this one breath your last? Is your chest so heavy you’re ready to leave? Because I was just hoping that someone would grieve.” she says.

“I just don’t know anymore.” I say.

“There’s no memories here.” she hugs me. “Just the regrets of the dead.”

 

Part 3

“Violet, wake up.” I hear Aric.

“No.” I groan.

“Come on, fuckass!” I hear another voice.

I open my eyes and see River standing next to Aric.

River chuckles a bit and flips his beautiful dark brown hair. “Wake up. We’re going to go dye Aric’s hair.” He reaches over and pets my brother’s hair.

“What color?” I sit up.

“Blue.” River bites his lip ring. He used to have snake bites, but he took the left one out so his mom would let him get a septum piercing. (Which he has flipped up right now.)

“Awe. You’re going to be an adorable little scene queen.” I smirk.

“Shut-up. I’m not scene.” Aric chuckles.

“Sure.” River and I say in unison.

Aric rolls his eyes. “Are you helping or no?”

“I’ll watch.” I say.

“Alright. We’ll be in the basement.” Aric says.

“Okay.” I respond as they exit my room. I stand and stretch before pulling a black tank top and blue skinny jeans out of my closet and putting them on. I throw my pajamas on the floor of my closet and brush my long blonde hair before leaving my room. I really need to dye it. My black roots are starting to show. I head down the stairs and to my right, down the hallway to the first door on my right. This leads to the basement, which Aric has taken over since our house only has two bedrooms. I open the door and head down the stairs directly in front of me.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” River chuckles.

“It only took me like five minutes to get down here. I had to get dressed and brush my two-foot-long hair.” I laugh.

River has purple hospital gloves on and a bowl of blue hair dye. He’s applying it to Aric’s hair not so very neatly.

“Dude, there’s like blue spots on the floor.” I say.

“We’ll get those up in a minute.” Aric says.

“They’re most likely stains already but okay.” I say.

“Oops.” River continues adding dye to Aric’s hair. After about ten more minutes he’s done.

“You want to add some blue to that long, pretty blonde stuff?” River asks.

“Ooo! You should do the tips!” Aric smiles.

“Or, consider this, how about, we don’t do that.” I laugh.

“Come on. It’ll be cute as hell!” River says.

“Hmmm...I guess.” I sit down backwards in the chair Aric was in and look at River. “Will you assist me?”

“Sure thing.” he says.”Alright pull your hair forward.”

I do so and he begins adding blue to my tips.

It took about five minutes.

“How long do I leave it in?” I ask.

“An hour just to make sure it stays.” River says.

“Okay,” I stand up and crack my back “I’m going to go chill in my room. Let me know when an hour is over.”

“Okay.” River says, taking off the gloves.

I head upstairs to the first level and up more stairs, to my left and straight into my room, shutting the door behind me. I sit down on my bed and pull my notebook out from under my pillow. I turn to the last page and untape my last razor blade from Loralei. It’s what I need right now. I’ve started thinking about her. My dream is coming back to me. I need this. I drag it across my wrist just like my dream. I need this. I repeat it again. And again and again. I need this.

“Stop that.” I hear my door close. I look up and River is standing there. I didn’t even hear or see him come in.

“No!” I do it again, I need this.

“Stop! What the fuck Violet?!” he grabs my arm and examines my wounds. “These are deep.” His eyes move up and down my bloody arm.

I begin crying. “I miss her so much.”

“Your friend was lost.” he says with a bitter tone.”You carry on.”

“No!” I cry. “I don’t want to!”

“I know how you feel.” He takes his shirt off.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Tying my shirt on your arm, duh.” he ties his shirt on my arm a little tight to stop the bleeding. “I know you’re sinking deeper. Every breath a straining gasp. And I know you’re wishing ‘please death, just make this breath my last’ But there’s life out there for living.” He bites his lip ring again.

“I’m ashamed of myself.” I look down at my hands. “I just want out of this place. This fucking hell I’ve created. I can’t seem to escape.”

“You gotta keep going.” he says. “I give it all, and when I fall, I get up, and I give some more.”

“It’s hard though. Every fucking day I want to die.” I look into his eyes.

“I’ve been through this before, when I lost my dad. Do you know that every 13 minutes, someone out there like me and you end their lives? Because they assumed no one cared. They assumed no one would miss them and that help wasn’t within their reach. But I won’t let you be like them. We’re still breathing. We’re the lucky ones.” He leans over and kisses my forehead.

I hug him “Thank you.”

“Anytime, beautiful.”

Aric walks in.”Woah. Why don’t you have a shirt on?”

I hold up my arm.

“Oh.” Aric frowns. “I’ll go get you one of mine.” he leaves.

 

Once the bleeding stopped, I changed into a long sleeved shirt.

I close my notebook and slide it back under my pillow. River took my razor blade.

I head downstairs to the living room and see River and Aric playing Uno on the couch.

“Skip you. Skip you.” River puts down two blue skip cards.”Uno!” He holds up his last card.

“Shit.” Aric says with half the deck in his hand.

River puts down his last card. A blue 3. “I WIN!!” He yells.

“Fuck.” Aric says.

I laugh. “Where did Mom and Dad go?”

“Grocery store.” Aric says right before a timer goes off. He pulls out his phone. “You rinsing your hair in the bathtub or the sink?”

“The sink because I’m only rinsing the tips.” I head to the second door down the hall to my right. I turn the water on and pull forward all of my hair and begin rinsing the ends. Once I’m finished I squeeze the water out of my hair with my hands and dry it with the dark hand towel we have on the towel rack. Then I notice behind the sink there is a fresh pack of razor blades. Probably my dad’s but mine now. I snatch up the pack really quick and shove it into my back pocket. I look at myself in the mirror and frown. I shouldn’t be doing this…

Part 4

Aric knocks on my open door. “Hey.” he sniffles.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I put my notebook under my pillow and sit up, turning to him.

He shuts my door. “Can I sit down?”

“Of course.”

He does so and continues to ask, “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.” I say.

He breaks down crying. “I think I’m gay.”

I hug him. “Awe, Aric.” I smile. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.” he continues crying heavily. “Mom and Dad are going to hate me.”

“Shhh.” I hold him close. “I’m here for you.”

I would love to tell him that they will still love and care for him, but my parent are very homophobic and I’m not so sure it’s true..

“I hate everything.” he cries.

“No you don’t, you’re just upset.” I say.

“Violet,”

I let go of him he he tries wiping away his tears but they just keep falling. “I cut.” He whispers.

“Let me see how bad it is.” I say.

He looks at me blankly. “Violet,” he looks back down at his hands.

I take his hand. It’s so cold. I panic as I slowly roll up his sleeve. He doesn’t even fight to keep it down. There’s so much blood and he’s so blank.

“Violet, I’m dying.”

I start crying. “No you’re not!” I grab my phone. “I’m calling 911”

“Stop! I don’t want to go back to the hospital! It’s horrible there!” He begins to cry.

“Please, Aric! I don’t want you to die!”

“But maybe that’s what I want!” he yells.

My phone begins ringing. It’s River. “River!” I cry.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Aric cut really bad and I don’t know what to do!” I put him on speaker.

“Oh God.” he whispers. “Call the ambulance!”

“No, you idiot!” Aric exclaims. “I’m not going back to the hospital!”

“Shut up you fag! Call 911!” River says.

“Don’t call me that!” Aric cries harder.

“Why? It’s not like you’re actually gay.” River chuckles.

“Yes, River! I am gay! So shut the fuck up calling me that.”

“Stop arguing!” I yell.

“Shit. Sorry, man. I didn’t know.” River gets quiet. “Please let Violet call.”

“No.”

“Fine, then I will!” River hangs up.

“No!” Aric jumps up off my bed and runs downstairs.

I run after him. “Aric, where are you going?!”

He runs out the front door and I follow him into the pouring rain, without shoes on. “Aric?!” I yell after him as I follow him down the street. He’s heading for the bridge. I know it. I try to catch up to him but he’s too fast. I lose sight of him for a minute, but eventually I see him sitting on the railing on the side of the bridge. “ARIC!” I scream and run toward him. Once I’m close enough I speak his name.

“Turn your head.” he says.

“No!” I cry. I hear sirens down the street at our house. “I’m going to get you help!”

“No, I’m sorry. Violet,” He stands up and hugs me. “I love you.”

“Aric,” I cry. “Please.”

“Remember, my sister, when I told you that I’d never recover and now remember the cold stormy weather and the promise I made that I’d love you forever, I meant it, I swear that I meant it forever.” he says. “I've been searching for an exit but I'm lost inside my head where I spend every waking moment wishing I was dead. For a few minutes get me away from here. For a few minutes wipe away my tears. For I am lost right now as the ocean deep. I am low my friend and how my heart does sink.” he lets go of me. “It's like there's cancer in my blood, it's like there's water in my lungs. And I can't take another step, please tell me I am not undone. It's like there's fire in my skin, and I'm drowning from within. I can't take another breath, please tell me I am not undone.”

“No, Aric. You’re going to be okay.” I say.

He climbs over the railing.

“I’ll pour my heart out to stop you from leaving! I really need you here! I need you so don’t leave!” I scream.

“I love you, Violet. Goodbye.” he leans back and that’s the last I ever see of my brother.

Part 5

“I just...can’t do this anymore, River. I’m sorry. It’s been a year since Loralei left us and I’m wishing things could just go back to how they used to be.” I cry into my phone.

It’s been six goddamned days since Aric jumped and everyday it seems to get worse. My parents fight all the time now. So, I decided to not leave a note. They’ll find me when they find me I guess. Although I did feel the need to call River. I regretted it the moment he answered.

“I feel so fucking helpless when I can’t be your relief.” he says. “Where are you?”

“On my way to the ocean.”

“Come on, Violet. Please don’t do this.” I hear him begin to cry. River never cries.

“I JUST CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE, RIVER!”

“You gotta know, kid, that it ain’t easy to take on all of your grieving. Yeah, you gotta believe me.” he says.

“Let the ocean take me.” I whisper and hang up. He tried calling back several times, but I didn’t answer. I can’t answer. I soon arrive at a cliff. This is it. I stop and sit with my legs dangling off the edge. Now my lungs are failing and my heart is fading. My mind is taking me so far away I’m dreaming. My mind is reeling, I have shaking hands. Tears are streaming, sorrow calls...with no one here to break my fall.

“Violet!”

I close my eyes and begin to lean forward.

“No!”

I know it’s him. I know by the way his voice cracked once he screamed out “I love you” and threw his arms around me and dragged me away from the edge. I had no energy to fight him off for I had no sleep both nights before. So as he sat down in the grass, safe away from the cliff I lay my head in his lap quietly and close my eyes. “You are all I have left.” I whisper.

He kisses my forehead. “Violet, please stop doing this.” I can barely make out his words from his sobs. “I need you more than you know. I can’t imagine a world without you. Please, Violet, just...stay.”

Part 6

“Are you done packing?” my mother asks. “It’s about time to get going.”

I sigh and look around my room at all the boxes. “Yeah.”

It’s been about five months since Aric jumped and River saved me from the same fate. I’m surprised he didn’t tell my parents about it. Speaking of which, my parents have been officially divorced for a week now. My dad moved to California yesterday with his new girlfriend and her kids. My mom is moving in with my grandmother in Texas so she can take care of her. And I’m moving to Michigan with River and his mom. My mom told me it’s because Grandma’s house is too small for the three of us to live comfortably, but River overheard my mom telling his mom say she “can’t handle my shit anymore”. But it’s whatever, I guess. It kinda sucks though because Massachusetts is the only home I’ve ever known.

“Alright let’s go.” she says.

“What about Aric’s stuff?” I ask.

“Leave it here. Somebody will throw it away, I guess.” she says.

“Are you serious? You’re not going to keep anything of his?”

“No.” she says. “It’s all just trash, really.” she leaves down the stairs.

I pull my phone out and call River. “Is there anything of Aric’s that you want?”

“Uhm, yeah! He was my best friend.” he says. “I’m actually walking up to your front door right now so we can go through his things together.”

“Okay, see you in a second.” I hang up and run downstairs to the front door. I open it to see River standing there like I expected.

He opens the screen door and hugs me. “You doing okay?” he asks.

“Not really but I’m fighting.” I respond.

He lets go of me and heads toward the basement door. I follow him down the stairs. I haven’t been down here since we dyed our hair. I smirk when I notice the blue spots still on the floor.

“I really want his favorite green V-neck.” I say.

“I want his batman jacket that he always wore.” River says.

We go through all of his things andMom is a little upset with us. She says, “You wasted an entire hour on his trash?”

I actually call her a bitch once I finish packing our box of Aric’s things.

“Violet!” she exclaims.

I take my box and carry it to the U-haul truck we rented, tears streaming down my face. River follows me.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. I just hate how much she doesn’t care.” I say.

“Well, in a couple hours we’ll be on our way to Michigan without her and everything will be okay.” he says.

I wipe away tears and smile at him.

He hugs me. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“Thank you. You’re all I have left.” I say as I hug him back.

He kisses my head. “I love you, kid.”

“I love you too but don't call me ‘kid’. Just because you’re 16 and I’m 15 doesn’t mean anything.” I say.

“Eh, whatever, kid.” he chuckles.

I roll my eyes.

After Mom, River, and I finish carrying all the boxes from the house to the truck, Mom drives us to River’s house. Another U-haul truck is parked in front of the driveway.

River’s mom, Amanda, will be driving the U-haul truck while River and I will be in the car all the way to Michigan - about 11 hours.

“Are you ready to go?” Amanda asks once I’m out of Mom’s U-haul.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I hug her. “Thank you for taking me in. I know I’m a lot to deal with.”

“Oh, honey,  don’t say that about yourself. You’ve just been through a lot.” she says.

Mom begins taking boxes out of the back of her U-haul marked ‘Violet’ and putting them into Amanda’s U-haul. I help her. She doesn’t say a word to me. She doesn’t even make eye contact, which is okay with me.

Soon we’re done and off to Michigan.

 

Five hours into the drive my phone dies, so I take my headphones out and look at River who is focused on the road. His medium length brown hair is moved out of his face and his green eyes are shining bright, just light Loralei’s brown ones did all the time.

“Look who’s coming back to reality.” he says once he notices me.

I smile and yawn a bit.

“The seat leans back, you know.” he says.

“I forgot.” I reach my right hand down between the seat and the door and pull a small lever and lean back making the seat go back. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

I close my eyes and try to fall asleep.

“We can pull over if you want.” River says. “Get a motel or whatever. It is getting dark.”

“No, it’s fine.” I say.

“Alright.” he continues to focus on the road.

Eventually I do drift away.

 

“River, are you okay?” I ask.

He sits down on my bed and looks deep into my eyes. “You look so beautiful in the moonlight.”

“Thank you.” I blush a bit, still concerned about the tears in his eyes.

He sniffles. “I love you, Violet.”

“I love you too.”

“No, I mean I’m in love with you.” he says and reaches behind his back.

“River,” I begin.

“And I know you don’t feel the same way.” he pulls out a gun. “I just thought you should know before I leave you.”

“River! Stop!” I scream.

He holds the gun to his head. “I’m sorry, Violet.”

“No, please! You’re all I have left!”

And with one loud boom his brains are on my wall.

I scream, “NO! River!” my heart is beating faster than ever and I can barely see from all the tears in my eyes.

Aric and Loralei walk in smiling. “Violet, it’s your turn.”

 

“Violet.” I hear River’s speak. “Violet, wake up. You’re okay. It’s just a bad dream.”

“No...” I whisper as I slowly come back to reality. “River.” I look over at him. “River! River, you’re okay!”

“Calm down, babydoll. What’s wrong? What happened?” he reaches over and rests his hand on my knee.

“River…” I begin to cry.

“Come on, open up. Tell me all about it.” he tries to comfort me.

“Please don’t leave me.” I cry into my hands.

“What are you talking about?” he asks.

“I saw you…” I continue crying. “You left me!”

“Violet, I’m not going anywhere!” he says. “What the hell did you see that made you so upset?”

“I saw you and you pulled out a gun and before I knew it…” I try wiping away tears. “...you were gone. You told me you were in love with me and then you shot yourself.”

“Oh, shit.” he looks over at me, then back on the road. “Violet, I will never leave you. I mean that, I swear that I mean that forever.” he reaches over and takes my hand.

After about an hour, River breaks the silence. “The sky is unreal tonight.”

“What do you mean?” I look out my window.

“It’s just so clear and the moon is shining crazy bright. It’s so beautiful.” he explains.

“Yeah.” I nod, looking up at the stars.

And with that we continue to the rest of our lives, free from the past.

 

Hopefully.

As soon as I started to slide into second, I knew it wasn’t a good idea. But there was no stopping it now. I saw, in slow motion, number twelve facing me, her body positioned in front of the base, protecting it. I was heading into the space to her left, but I already knew that it was too small, that I’d never make it-

Crack.

I knew as it happened that my arm was broken, where I knew the collision of Oriole/Tiger/Second Base had occurred, with extreme force. I could tell, by the way that my arm felt as if it was in two pieces, that it had broken right in the middle of my arm, though, luckily, slightly higher than my elbow, because I could imagine how much worse that would feel, though, in the moment, it was hard to imagine pain worse than this. The pain was flowing through my body in hot pulses, and I somehow sensed, through all this, that the game was entirely stopped, because of my arm, because of the collision, because of me.

 

. . .

 

As the doctors wrapped my arm, I lay there staring out the window, my head aching slightly of a headache from the recent events. The doctor seemed to go really fast, either really keen on his job and wanting to get onto the next person, or, the more likely option of that it was his lunch break after this.

Anyway, it seemed only a short time later that I was walking back through the hallways with my mom, her asking me more questions about my pain, and what had happened, as I walked beside her and tried to satisfy her with my meaningless answers.

We were walking through the waiting area when I saw her, her face hidden in her hands, her body crumpled away from the seat. Her brown hair was splayed all across her shoulders, and the jacket that she was wearing was half slipping off. She looked so hopeless, like nothing in the world could ever be right again. And she was convincing. But still I watched her for as long as I could while keeping my mom’s pace, my head eventually snapping back forward when we reached the entrance.

 

. . .

 

Though the doctors had securely wrapped my arm in gauze, keeping it in its steady position, and it still hurt like heck, I was still more upset about not being able to play softball, “For at least two months.”, the doctor had said. Two months? That would mean missing conditioning, practice, and games until at least February. And without softball, I was nothing. If I wasn’t on the softball field, where was I? If I wasn’t a softball player, what was I?

 

. . .

 

My parents, of course, had tried to convince me that it wasn’t going to be that bad, as if thinking those thoughts would make it that way. They weren’t very convincing. These would probably be the worst two months of my life, not that that was exactly saying much. I knew that some friends of mine had things much worse, like my friend Lucy, whose nickname was Lucky, for her lack of being so. But thinking about Lucky made me want to call her, so I got up from from my full-size bed and walked across the now almost-silent house, quiet except for the occasional bark from my 2 year old dog, Arizona. I walked to the phone, spotting it from across the room, as its black color stood out from our family’s yellow-and-brown themed kitchen. I had to use the home phone for now, for my cell phone had been broken a couple of weeks before from dropping it in a parking lot while sprinting to school after my alarm failed to wake me up. I grimaced, imagining how I must have looked that day, as I dialed Lucky’s number.

“Hello?” her voice said on the other end of the line, sounding confused. I smiled. She always forgot that I had to use the home phone now.

“Hello, this is California Cruise Lines calling,” I said, trying to make my voice as unrecognizable as possible. “We are calling to inform you are the lucky winner of a free romantic cruise for two on our lines,” I said, trying to hold back my smile, as I heard her pause on the other end of the line, and then burst out laughing.

“Juliette!” she practically screamed, her peals of laughter making me start giggling too.

“Hey, I had to take advantage,” I said, my giggles half obscuring what I said. I could hear conversations in the background behind her laughter, and I stopped for a second to ask, “Where are you?”

“Oh,” she said, her voice suddenly becoming serious, “I’m at the hospital.”

“What?” I said, alarmed by the sudden seriousness in her voice, and alarmed at the thought of her at the hospital. “Why?”

“Umm…” she said, obviously not keen on letting me know. “My sister has a weird mole on her leg.” she responded. “But, it’s probably nothing.” she added, her voice brightening, though I could tell that it was really fake.

I was quiet for a long time on the other side of the phone, thinking. It seemed as if Lucky had striked again. Then, suddenly, there was a burst of new conversation coming through the phone, and Lucy’s voice came on again, saying, “Sorry, I have to go, my mom just came back in.”, and I imagined Lucky, sitting in the hospital, by herself.

And then I thought of the girl.

And then it all clicked.

It was her.

 

. . .

 

I thought of Lucky all that afternoon and evening, wanting to call her and ask, but afraid of what I might hear. I was scared, scared of what I might hear about her sister, scared of the effect it might have on her. Because from what I had seen in those 30 seconds in the hospital waiting room, it was a lot more serious than she was letting on. And those fun moments that we had had before I asked her where she was, that laughter between two best friends, that had been fake.

The Feldman sisters had always been close, the one year difference between their ages pulling them, not farther apart, but closer together. Liz, the older one, had always been careful and kind to her mischievous younger sister, who had ran away from home when she was six, only to run back an hour later, “Just because of Liz.”. And then, my eyes silently starting to fill with tears, I thought of that strong little girl now, huddled in the hospital, all happiness and hope gone, her body crumpled from this new weight that the universe had thrown at her.

Then I remembered what she had said, that there was a strange mole on her sister’s leg. And I lapsed into more worry, this time for her sister, whom I had never really known, but had seen many times on my trips over to Lucy’s house. She had always seemed really nice, her secret winks to Luce across the room seeming to tell a whole story in one glance, and when I would look back at Lucy, she would seem to get it immediately, either responding with a nod, a smile, or just a look at her sister, the one that knew her so well.

Finally, I got up the nerve to call her, but it turned out that I had nothing to be nervous for. Her phone went straight to voicemail, and though this should have been a slightly worrying factor, hearing her voice over the phone made my nerves settle a little. “Hi, this is Lucy, call back later or leave a message.” the voicemail Lucy said.

But

Instead

I hung up.

 

. . .

 

When I heard the contents of Lucky’s sister’s diagnosis, I was shocked.

Skin Cancer.

Lucy herself hadn’t been at school, but the news about the diagnosis was everywhere: I heard about it from the girls on the bleachers, the kids on the soccer field, and practically everyone passing in the halls. But each time I just kept walking, past everyone, my shock smothering everything else in the world.

Skin Cancer.

 

. . .

 

That whole week, I didn’t call her, or talk to her. I was a wimp, that whole week, and I wasn’t being a good friend. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t face her, and I felt terrible about it. But the truth was, this reminded me too much of an event that had happened when I was younger, that I had been trying to forget my whole life.

And if I started thinking about that day, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

But I couldn’t leave her alone.

All by herself.

Could I?

 

. . .

 

That whole week, I avoided everything and everyone. And I felt really guilty about it. The me that was walking the halls was a shell, a ghost. I didn’t want this. But I didn’t want the alternative, either.

“Jules!” I heard my name from down the hall, and the only reason I turned was because I recognized the voice. The one that had been calling my name all week. And this time I finally looked her in the eye.

It was Helena, the all-around perfect girl at our school: nice, popular, smart, pretty. Her red hair flipped over her shoulders as she jogged toward me through the hall, probably so she wouldn’t be late to another one of her AP classes, the ones I had skipped over when looking at the class admissions list.

“So, how’s Lucy?” she asked, and I realized that I had no idea of the answer. This is what people thought, that I was still talking to Lucy, helping her through whatever happens. And the guilt washed over me again, because of course that’s what everyone thought; me and Lucy were best friends, and that’s what best friends did. They were always there for each other. I  couldn’t ditch Luce. No matter what happened, we would stay together. I was not going to let her fall apart so that I could continue to ignore what I had for so long, the disasters of 6th grade. And I knew right then what I would do, the thing that was overdue; I needed to see Lucy.

And then I realized that Helena was still there, staring at me expectantly, her hands on her hips. And I didn’t know what to say.

“Uhh… Well, she’s going through a lot right now,” I finally settled on, answering her question with a non-answer.

“Oh, yeah, I understand,” she said, her arms dropping from her hips. “Well, please tell her I’m sorry, okay?”

“Yup,” I said, nodding my head, not sure if I was actually going to, or if that was a lie.

“Well, bye, then!” she said, and with a wave over her now-turned back, she was gone.

 

. . .

 

When I called Lucky’s cell phone, it once again went to her voicemail. But this time, instead of stopping to listen to it, I hung up and dialed her home phone number.

“Hello?” her dad answered on the third ring, and I grimaced slightly by how bad he sounded. His voice was gravelly and rough, and he sounded just as Lucy had looked that day in the hospital: hopeless, deserted.

“Hi, it’s Juliette. I was wondering, could I talk to Lucy?” I said, hating how my voice sounded, wavering and pitying. I was not going to be afraid of Lucy’s dad.

“Uh… Yeah, Lucy. Um, she’s at the hospital,” he said, his voice faint, like he was a million miles away.

“Okay, thanks, Mr. Feldman,” I said, and after waiting a few seconds for a non-existent response, I hung up the phone.

 

. . .

 

On the way to the hospital, I wasn’t really thinking about anything except for Lucy and Liz and what might happen when I got there. But when the hospital came into sight, I put all of these thoughts out of my mind. This was my best friend. I didn’t need to prepare for this. This was for the Feldmans.

And with these thoughts in my head, I suddenly felt a lot braver than before. I marched right up to the front desk, the lady staring down at me with a quizzical look.

“I’m here for Elizabeth Feldman,” I said, not breaking eye contact with the lady behind the counter.

“Family?” she asked, frowning down at me.

“Ye- Yes,” I confirmed. In the Feldman family, they had always joked about how I was one of the family. I just hoped that they still felt that way.
The woman sighed, and though she was still squinting at me suspiciously, she said, “The Samples Ward, second door on the right.” And so, with a deep breath, I walked through the doors without even glancing at the hospital map, prepared for whatever was waiting for me.

After I made it to the Samples Ward, Liz’s room was extremely easy to find. “Second door on the right,” the woman had said. And there it was, the second door on the right.

With a deep breath, I pushed open the wooden door, and there she was. Liz. Exactly as I remembered her, minus all the tubes and wires that were all around her head and some disappearing under her white cotton blanket.

She was awake, and with only the two of us in the room, she spotted me immediately.

“Hey, Jules,” she said, treating me like an old friend. Her eyes crinkled up at me in a smile, and I smiled back at her, glad that she was still able to smile in this environment. But, she had always seemed like a “bright side” person.

“Hi,” I said back, not exactly sure what else to say, but feeling as if that was enough.

“I’ve been hoping that you would come by,” she said, that smile staying on her face even as she spoke. “I’ve always wanted to get to know you better.” And her saying that seemed remarkable to me, that even in her situation, she was still striving to get to know her little sister’s best friend better. But Liz was a remarkable person.

“And, I wanted to talk to you about Lucy,” she said, her smile tightening with this statement.

“Yes?” I said, my smile, too, dropping slightly.

“She’s really depressed,” Liz said, and I felt that wave of guilt once again. “I want you to promise me that you will take good care of her. She’s my little sister. Please, Juliette,” she said, her voice finally turning to pleading with this last statement. And it felt as if my heart was breaking. Liz loved Lucy so much. But… she would have to leave. And I would have to help Lucy through that, because that was what friends did, and that was what love did.

 

“I will,” I whispered. “I will.”

 

                                  The Night’s Cry

                                 

January 6th, 1941

I was sitting on my bed, waiting for the clock to reach midnight. The Nazis would take me soon, I could sense it. They would take me to the ghettos and then to the concentration camps to work you to your death. No one came back from the camps. At least that’s what I heard. I was all alone in the darkness of my cold, empty, house. My eyes were drooping, but I kept them open. It felt like strings were pulling at my eyelids, and my body felt like a dead corpse. Cold, lifeless, no energy. 11:59 PM. My dry eyes bulged out at the broken clock and watched as it ticked. 12:00 AM. I had slept in my clothes, in preparation to escape. You would be dragged to the ghettos, then to the camps. There was no hope. My brows knotted together as I squinted at the night sky. It didn’t have the starry night sky like Vincent Van Gogh had imagined and painted across a canvas. There was no lights of dying stars. But that gleam of the moon, that one little light of hope in the darkness, that gave me hope. It was time.

 

             January 7th, 1941

I put on my hat backwards, and pulled on some ratty shoes. I felt fear bubble inside me. My heart seemed like it was too big for my chest. I heard the front door burst open. They were here. I looked out my window. Three kids were out on the street, held captive by the army. One boy had his head hung low, a girl was screaming, and the other was crying so hard, he ended up vomiting. I opened the window, grabbed my backpack, and ran out on the roof.

 

I had escaped. I fell to the ground. My ribs seemed to crunch as gravity seemed to pull me down, down, down the rabbit hole. I gritted my teeth and shakily attempted to stand up. I was clutching my ribs, and hunched over. The army had walked inside my house. I could hear their yelling and swearing. World War II was a frightening time to be Jewish, which was the situation I was in. I limped over to a bus stop, and waited in a prickly bush. The bus screeched to a stop, gas fumes exhaling out of it. I stepped on, about to take my seat, when the driver had stopped me.

 

“Miss, you’re gonna need some money if you wanna ride,” he said. I pulled a rusty pocket knife out from my pocket. “I need this bus ride,” I growled.

“Fine, take your seat. Don’t make me change my mind.”

“Thanks,” I said. I sat in the back, next to a boy who looked my age.

“Are you escaping?” I whispered.

“I escaped when I was 13.”

“That’s impossible.” I said.

“We should get you help.”

I shook my head. “They’ll catch us. They’ll turn us over to the Nazis and all hell will break loose. And it’s not that bad,” I said.

“Caught or not, if your ribs are broken, you can’t exactly walk.” He said. I gave in.

“Fine.” He called out and the bus halted to a stop. We exited carefully, trying not to be seen. As soon as we the hospital, I could feel my heart racing and beating abnormally.

“Maybe we shouldn’t.” I said. The boy rolled his eyes.

“Do you have a name?” He said. I shrugged.

“Do you have a name?” I asked him. He pulled up his sleeve and pointed at a number. “One.” I whispered. “

“That’s your name?” I said. One nodded.

“I don’t know my name.” I said. One grasped my hand and pulled me into the hospital. “I’ll call you Zero.” I laughed, ignoring the stabbing pain in my chest. When we entered, hell broke loose. Alarms went off. They knew we were here. I looked at One.

“Great job.” I said.

“Oh shut up, I’m stealing some painkillers and some tools.”

My mouth dropped. “No, you’re not, they’re too quick; you’ll get yourself ki--”

“Not if I’m quicker.” He shot me a smile and ran off. I just stood there holding a pocket knife, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do. People ran through the door with guns. I ducked behind a desk, trying to breathe quietly. My life was flashing before my eyes. I saw One, slowly walking with a bag. His dark brown hair was wet, and his face was dripping with sweat. He jumped next to me, causing the desk to rattle. “What were you thinking?” I whispered through my teeth.

“Shh!” One said. The Army walked past, exiting into a darkened corridor. I grabbed One’s hand, and ran out of the building.

“That was...stupid and too risky.” I shrieked.

We had found an abandoned junkyard, and we were sitting on an abandoned rusty car. There, One was attempting to fix my ribs, and had succeeded.

“You need rest.” He said.

We both climbed in a van silently. The blasting sirens from the hospital were still ringing in my ears. The memories were all in flashes, yelling, sirens, swearing and running.  I leaned my head back on the cold window, and looked outside, as the stars seemed to dance through the night sky. I fell into a dreamless slumber, as the world seemed to calm.

The next morning I awoke to a sudden jolt and the soft sound of a roaring engine, and an enthusiastic One.

One was too excited to talk or move. He sat there smiling at the window, dark circles under his eyes, and his hair all frazzled in a mess. “Zero.” My head perked up.

“Are you Jewish?” One asked.

I nodded.

“You’re not in a great position,”

I nodded again. “I’m aware.”

“Are you?” I asked.

One nodded.

One squeezed my hand. “The Nazis aren’t taking you away to those ghettos and camps.    I won’t allow it.”

The next few days were spent hiding in the junkyard.

“We should get moving if we actually want to escape the Nazis.” I said.

One said nothing.

I repeated myself.

Nothing again.

And it was like that for the past month.

 

February 9th, 1941

One was pacing around in an old bus we had attempted to make home out of.

“You seem tense.” I murmured.

“Shush, I’m focusing.”

I sighed and punched the already broken window.

“When are you going to start talking to me again?” I growled.

One groaned and collapsed into a seat.

“I’m trying to find you a way out of Germany.”

“Oh.” I hesitated,

 

March 11th, 1941

I had awoken to One shaking me. Blood was dripping down his chin, his cheerful smile was spread across his cheeks, his chestnut eyes seemed to glow with excitement, and his eyes looked like they were sagging down to his dirty cheeks. He probably didn’t get enough sleep.

“Zero, great news, I found you a way out of Germany.” He exhaled.

I paused. I shook my head. “No.”

“What?” One said, his smile fading.

“No.” One squinted at me.

“I’m not leaving unless you’re going with me.”

One sighed. “Okay.”

 

June 12th, 1941

We had somehow snuck past Auschwitz and had made it into a forest. The stars glowed through the trees, the wind brushed through my hair, and the world seemed to stop for a moment. All of my worries, my doubts, my loneliness, seemed to go away. One gazed up at the sky. He seemed lost in its magical wonders. And as a shooting star darted across the sky, I wished that everything would be okay. That we would be safe. That World War II would end.         

                     But only one of those wishes came true     

April 30th, 1941

And it happened. It actually happened. The Nazis flooded into the forest. I hit One’s arm and before he even had time to ask what was going on, I had grabbed his hand and yanked him into a bush. My eyes were glued to the Nazis. One’s eyes were full of fear, and he sat there, paralyzed. The Nazis scavenged about. They looked like hungry wolves, looking for their...prey. That’s what we were to Hitler. Prey. Worthless. Weak. One grabbed my hand and pulled me into the middle. “Run.” He whispered. And we ran until we collapsed.

April 30th, 1941, 3 AM  We thought we had outrun them. Until I felt my hair yanked and a scream echoed out from One. He swore at the Nazis, tried fight against them. “DON’T YOU TOUCH HER” He shrieked. Blood dripped from his jaw and his temple. I was being dragged away. There was nothing I could do. I was a corpse. Lifeless. Worthless. Weak. Prey. One was being dragged south. I was confused. I didn’t know where I was going. I’ll see you again in a later life. I mouthed to One. He managed to crack a smile and mouthed Goodbye before being bashed over the head with a cane and knocked unconscious. I let one tear slip out from my eyes.

                                     And that was the last time I ever saw One.

                                    

January 8th, 1942

I traced over the number on my wrist. I remember when I had got it, the excruciating pain had shot through my arms, feeling like someone was pulling my veins out and knives were poking out of my skin. I knew One would show up one day. I kept believing it. To this day I still don’t understand why the Nazi’s were in that forest. All I know is that they were looking for us.

01826. My number. A tear spilled out on the number one. I was skinny as a stick. My ribs were seemed to bulge from underneath my skin and my face was hollow. My skin was blue from the coldness. There was no hope here. Just weeping children, deaths, and screams. They put us here to die.

Every night, there was crying. Weeping. I was one of them. The moon slowly reached the sky as it seemed to grasp ahold of the dying stars. The cries were muffled against ragged and scratchy sheets. The night’s cry had begun. I looked at my wrist. The numbers were etched on my wrist and would stay there till my death. I leaned my forehead against the cold wall. A tear escaped and as I stared at the numbers, I began to drift into a dreamless dream, and hopeless night, and a night’s cry. And every night, my wish would be, that my only friend, would be okay.       

                                             01826

                                                        10715

                                                        It’ll end.    

                                                    We’ll be okay.

 

 

November 23rd, 1944

Three years. It had been three traumatic years since I last saw One. I was surprised and confused that I was still alive. I was dragging these boulders across a field. A little girl was bawling because she had spotted her dead mother. Her small, weak, skinny body and her hollow dirty face matched her expression. Despair.

I wished that it would be over. And then it hit me. I could just run.

 

And I did. I ran. I heard yells. Gunshots. I ran like the devil was chasing me. And it was. I didn’t know where I was going. I clutched my 6 star necklace that my mother had given to me before she died. I looked up at the sky. Death is upon me. But it does not matter. Not when I have hope. I have taken Death’s hand many times but Death has always given me another chance.

I ran south. I ran out of Auschwitz. I had gotten shot in my hand but I didn’t care. My mind was blurry and I skidded to a stop and swinged around a tree. The Nazis looked around the forest. The forest. It was the forest One and I had been to 3 years ago. His jacket was still there behind a tree. I stifled my breathing and planted my feet into the damp earth. They headed north.

 

And I headed south.

I slipped through the woods until I heard a crunch of sticks.

I froze.

The sound stopped.

“Zero?” a croaky voice said.

“One?”

A skinny figure stepped out. One’s shaggy brown hair was tangled but his dark eyes glowed like the night sky. His face was hollow, making his eyes appear larger. His smile curved up to his dirty cheeks.

 

Waves of relief had washed over like the ocean washes over your body, as the anxiety drains from your mind and the world is aligned with the moon and everything stops spinning, as your mind calms as the sun goes down and the moon rises, and everything seems better, while your heart begins to beat again and life doesn’t seem unrealistic, that is when you can finally breathe.

 

 

 

 

 

I never expected to be able to perform here. I stared at the purple and red walls.The walls acted as canvases for Paintings of kings and queen to lay on. My eyes danced around the long murals and patterned arches, trying to avoid the vast sea of critics. One by one, men and woman sat in rows like buildings. Their eyes were peering into my soul, the illusion of confidence and preparation i tried to convey was useless to their eyes. They could all tell i was nervous from the way my knees wobbled and my body shivered. My stomach turned and twisted like the ballerina act before me. The announcer finally finished with his big echoing voice and set the stage for my act to play out. The blinding lights flicked on and cast a puddle of sun along the stage. The bright rays of lights and audience clapping screamed “Go!”, “It’s time to start!” But my legs screamed “No!” and rejected any request of movement my mind sent down. I was stuck. Like a statue from the decorative lobby of the theater, I stood still for people to stare at.

In Our Eyes...

You say you struggled. You say you were a mess. You say you struggled more than they did, but you didn’t. My Grandma was there. She told me of the struggles she went through, of the things they did to her family. You may fail to realize how much they struggled, but the only thing I ask of you today, the only thing I will likely ever ask of you, is that you listen to my Grandma’s stories, and my stories about my Grandma. I realize that you may think that this is a struggle you don’t need to care about, but I ask you to listen to her stories as I once did, and to think about what the story meant to my grandma.
I once asked my grandma to tell me the story of her life. She told me willingly, and I will never forget what she said. That was 4 years ago. I was 9 years old and proud of it. Now I am 13 years old. I used to think 13 would be the happiest age, but my thoughts have changed. My grandma died 2 weeks ago in her sleep. I am only happy in my dreams, when I imagine that she is alive. I dream of her stories, and in honor of her, I now tell them to you.
Come here נסיה (Nesia). קומען(Come) and hear my story. The story starts when I was a קליין מיידל (small girl). I had been alive for 16 years and 3 weeks, but I wasn’t happy about this age. That was the time when my family was taken. The three oldest children, my two brothers and I, had heard through gossip that it was called a death train. We knew that no matter what threats the נאַציס (Nazis) gave, we were to gather all of our younger siblings, try to tear the wires on the windows, and escape from the death train. Our parents were taken away by guards, and I never saw them again. I am glad that I had time to hug them. They looked to me to lead my siblings to safety, and I promised myself I would try.

I remember sitting on the bus hoping that they wouldn’t notice me. Hoping that today would be the day I could get some peace and quiet. I now realize that my dream that day was a useless one. They always found me. They were in their tight formation as usual. I shouldn’t have sat in this part of the bus. Then he spoke. He told me to beat it. He said that I was an idiot. That he would be happier if the Nazis killed my family, because then he wouldn’t have to deal with me. I know everybody says to let the things people like that say pass in through one ear and out through the other, but one of my ears must be blocked up with wax. What he says goes in one ear and then straight to my brain. I try to lock it up, but I guess those thoughts learned from Houdini. They always get out of my locks no matter what I do. My grandma was the only one who could make me feel better, even for a short amount of time, but now she is gone.

I scraped and scraped against the wires. The mesh didn’t budge. I got so angry I just tore it away with my bare hands. It was ווייטיק (pain) like I had never known. I געשריגן (cried) out in fear and in pain. I didn’t realize that that was the easiest part of my journey. The mesh was lying there שפּאַלטן (split) into two pieces of mesh. I stared at it. מיר (We) all looked at each other, and then I told everyone to line up youngest to oldest. I paired youngest with oldest second youngest with second oldest, and so on. I remember thinking that this would give the יינגער (younger) children a better chance to survive. My little buddy was קלאַראַ (Clair). She was smart and I loved her more than anything. Me and little קלאַראַ (Clair) jumped out of the window last, and the נאַציס (Nazis) were already shooting their bullets at us. To this day I remember seeing my older brother, צופרידן (Happy) stumbling from a neck wound. He pushed ברוך (Blessed), his little buddy, towards me and told me to run, and that he would hold the דייטשישער (Germans) off. I ran with my two little siblings. קלאַראַ (Clair) was the first to look back. “? דייַטש נאַציס העלפן צופרידן” she asked me in her quiet little voice (German nazis help Happy?). I didn’t know what to answer, so I told her, “. ניין, דייַטש נאַציס שאַטן צופרידן” (No, german nazis hurt Happy). She burst into tears, so I told her that he was strong and might survive. Her tears lessened a bit, but I knew that I would always be sad. I ran into the village with my two siblings and then got down to my hands and knees and prayed for צופרידן (Happy).

I walked off the bus carefully, making sure that I didn’t make my new bruises worse. Next time I would be sitting on a different side of the bus. When I was nine, my friend Selda was in my school. At least then we could be bullied together. When her Mama and Papa realized that she was being bullied because she was Jewish, they converted to Christian. Selda is still in my school, but her name is now Bethany, and she is friends with the bullies. Of course, I am not trying to say that the bullies are Christian, because there is only one Christian bully. Her name is Bethany, but she used to be known as Selda.

When I finished, I saw that קלאַראַ (Clair) and ברוך (Blessed) were saying it with me. With tears in my eyes, I realized that I didn’t have anything to remember him by, until ברוך (Blessed) pressed something into my hand. It was something צופרידן (Happy) had cherished almost more than anything. He had been married, but when he and his wife went into hiding, she got captured. She was killed, but luckily she managed to give him her 6 sided star necklace. Now I put it around my neck, to remember צופרידן (Happy) and לִיבֶער (Lieber) two brave people who died to save someone else.

Selda and I used to be inseparable, but now I feel as if she hates me. I don’t want to be her friend, but at least I try. Every day she bullies me, just because I am a jew. Her friends started it, but she continues it, and it hurts. One day I may be strong enough to stand up and tell them to knock it off, but today is not the day.

When I sat on the bus today, there was only one empty seat, and it was next to someone. I spent a minute gathering the courage, and I asked the girl reading in the next seat if I could sit there. She smiled, and said yes. That was the start of my friendship with לעוואָנע (Moon).

I walked into town with קלאַראַ (Clair) and ברוך (Blessed) in my arms, and I quickly cleaned myself in a puddle of water. I also cleaned קלאַראַ (Clair) and ברוך (Blessed), and found that they were both pretty much unscathed, except for a small bruise ברוך (Blessed) had somehow picked up along the way. I then walked to the nearest house, and with no better thing to do to gain money, I decided to ask to help around the house, and in return, maybe get some food for קלאַראַ (Clair) and ברוך (Blessed). I knocked on the door, three quick times in succession, as was polite, and a strict looking woman opened the door. I quickly introduced myself, and asked if there was anything I could do for her to gain money. She looked surprised for a moment, and asked where my accent was from. I decided to tell the truth, and told her that I was from farther north. This time I did decide to lie, and I said that all the boys except little ברוך (Blessed) were in the Nazi army, and my mother and I had stayed home to take care of  קלאַראַ (Clair) and ברוך (Blessed), but my mother had died. Of course, I told her all this in german, so I guess it would be Clara (Clair) and Gesegnet (Blessed). When I mentioned the Nazis, her face looked scared for a moment, and then she suddenly became very welcoming. She showed me the full house, but there was an extra door, and it sounded like a baby was crying from behind it, but when I mentioned it, her face took on that scared look again, and she quickly moved on to show me her cupboards and drawers that were broken. The thing was, I was moving slowly enough to see a little girl peek out of the door I had been curious about, and a voice saying, “Come back here!” loudly in Yiddish, so I whispered, “!שאָלעמ-אַלייכעמ” (hello to you) and she suddenly looked very happy. She called her mother up and I was shocked. “לִיבֶער (Lieber)?” I choked out.

Moon and I became best friends in a very small amount of time. I don't think Selda liked it very much. One particular day, Selda walked up to us, and said something unforgivable. “You know, the Nazis were right. Jews should all be killed. They aren’t even real people. They are just animals, animals that the world would be better without.” Normally when Selda insults us, I try to calm Moon down, but today, I was just as mad as she was, maybe more. I stood up and I told Selda that she was a disgrace. I said that my grandma would be ashamed of her, and that her grandma would be absolutely shocked to hear what she had said. So that day, I went straight home after school, told my older sister where I was going, and went to Selda’s house.

Her Grandma opened the door, and invited me inside for some hot chocolate and biscuits fresh from the oven. Selda wasn't home yet, so this was my chance. I told everything to Mrs. Avret, and with every word that spilled out of my mouth she looked more and more depressed. She looked like my sister had when they told us our parents had died. It was the same look I had gotten on my face when my Grandma had died. It was a grieving face. Then, Mrs. Avret decided to tell me why she had looked the same when my grandma had died, and why my last name was also Avret. It was because Selda's Grandma was named Clair. That may not make sense to you, but if you read my grandma's stories, you will understand. Wait. Pause. I just realized that that means that I am related to Selda. I went home, and decided to share my Grandma's stories, and so my book was born. I interviewed people around the globe, and when Selda tried to be friends with me again because I was famous, I politely told her that if my own cousin couldn't treat me nicely, than she should go back to her friends. As I interviewed people, I noticed a that a lot of those people said things like, "In our eyes.", and so I named my book In Our Eyes.

“לִיבֶער (Lieber)?” I asked again. This time the woman answered, and told me that she was Lieber's sister. I sighed. We talked a lot, and she told me of the money she had saved. It was enough to send three kids to America! We didn't send the kids though. We couldn't. The stern lady came back after she realized I wasn't following her, and became nice when she realized that I was not going to turn her in. My new friend and I slowly raised money to buy tickets for airplanes, and in two years time we were on the plane with all the kids. When I got onto plane I bumped into a boy about a year older than me, and as I said sorry, he turned around and hugged me. It was another one of my brothers! We sat next to each other on the plane, along with my friend and the kids. I remember my last thought before we reached America, was that the people in the future, well…

...They Shine.

 

 

Steve Johnson was an ordinary man, he was slightly overweight, went to the bar on Friday and had a desk job for a company with no moral values. He had a mop of mud-brown hair in a combover that sure didn’t compliment him and always wore clothes a size too big. Everyday he would wake up, eat a plain bowl of Quaker Oatmeal and leave for his job.

Today was one of those days, but worse, it was Monday. Steve, in general, was a neutral man, his opinions never really showed so you couldn’t tell whether he liked something or not, but not with Monday. Tuesday was alright, because it wasn’t Monday, same with Wednesday, Thursday was good because it was almost Friday and Friday is almost the weekend. Saturday was nice because of sleeping in until noon, Sunday was just still the weekend, along with a nice crossword puzzle from the New York Times. But Monday, just Monday, was the day that he despised. He had to go to work knowing that his 65 hour work-week was still unfinished and that a perfectly fine weekend was gone. So, with regrets, he started his week by walking out of Apartment 37 in a very average apartment complex. He stepped out of the building, giving no heed to the beautiful spring day and turned right, right off to his job.

His apartment wasn’t large or small, just normal, typical you might put it. The apartment was beige, Steve’s favorite color, along with some white trimmings that were peeling and perpetually in a potato chip-cracking. He had a kitchen with an oven and stove that were quite out of date and an orange metallic-rust, but served their purpose nonetheless. But mainly he just used his microwave for his TV dinners. He also had his bedroom, just big enough to fit his bed, which had a few springs popping out of the coffee stained mattress, and his dresser. But out of everything he prized his TV the most (in a close second is his couch, reflective from potato chip grease), which stood proudly in his dining room, being commonly repurposed as a living room.

 

When Steve Johnson came back from work he did what he always did, he put a TV dinner in the microwave and plopped down on the couch. He turned the channel to a sappy drama, next a political debate, a reality TV show, a Simpson’s rerun, a documentary, another Simpson’s rerun. When he was done staring pointlessly into the flickering television Steve walked over to his microwave and took out a hot TV dinner complete with a cold beer from the fridge. When he decided to go to bed (which nearly wasn’t a decision anymore considering the past 6 years of repetitive activities) it was already close to midnight. Having completed Monday Steve walked semi-triumphantly to his bed and fell asleep.

 

Steve woke up at 7:00 in the morning like he had the past 6 years of working at his job, he put on a new black suit that he had ironed for half an hour to get rid of the wrinkles that would perpetually plague his suit, and awkwardly put on a red and black striped tie and in a futile attempt to be welcomed into society as someone with a life. He ate some Quaker Oatmeal and left his apartment, picking up a briefcase with unfinished projects, assignments and energy bars.

Upon stepping onto the sidewalk a ping of conscience hit him, it could have been from the way the sun shined today, or maybe his horoscope had something to do with it. Why did he do this routine every single day? So in the small act of choosing something different from the algorithmic life he led, instead of heading of to work, he turned left.

 

So with hopes and dreams, Steve and his trusty briefcase began their journey to absolutely nowhere in particular, save the purpose of doing something in his life. Steve started his journey by walking across the Rose Bridge, an absolute landmark in his city for not following the pattern brought by the corporate building. The Rose Bridge was known for the roses that surround the area and the stunning carvings in the side of the structure. The bridge also had wondrous vines crawling up the old and weathered bricks. A bubbling river full of algae meandered through the bridge and into the sunrise. This bridge, of course, he had never been to. To fully grasp this new “wonder” Steve walked across it, below it, to the side of it and through it. On his way going above the bridge for a second time, Steve saw a man below him. The man beckoned Steve over. Steve gracelessly jogged over to him. The man was wearing a tattered old brown coat, which seemed like it was taken straight from an ‘80s sci-fi movie, and ripped up pants that he seemed to have gotten from the river running by.

“Will ya’ lend a hand to a poor old man, kind sir?” said the Poor Old Man.

“ What do you need?” asked Steve, contemplating the Poor Old Man.

“What do ya’ have?” questioned the Poor Old Man.

“Half-eaten energy bars and unfinished business projects,” said Steve “Want some?”

“Please,” the Poor Old Man said, so Steve left him with some of his half-eaten energy bars and a couple of the easier assignments, approximately difficult enough for a decent entry-level employee to handle..

 

Steve continued his journey with the new experience of meeting a poor person. This experience made him question many things he had done, and why, why does he go to work everyday? What is his purpose in life? In search of a greater meaning in his quest and reason for existence, Steve walked across his city to find out more about his life. Walking through the city Steve saw many things, children playing gleefully in a blissful ignorance of the greater meaning of life, concerts in small local parks which attracted hordes of die-hard rock-and-roll fans, and people sitting down talking to each other; with deep interest. The city was huge with great skyscrapers towering above, wind whipped around and cart stand owners beckoned people to them. Steve observed all of this at a distance carefully pondering the actions and behaviors that everyone made.

At 6:00 pm everyone had started to go home and the concerts had started to slow down, leaving a ringing in people’s ears. Steve, after watching the bustling metropolis, decided to go into the countryside to find himself and experience a different way of living. Since the major bussing companies had only intercity travel, Steve decided to walk. He passed the looming buildings that surrounded him, high and mighty with silver, elegant, curving skyscrapers. Steve saw people, ecstatic from the day’s fun.

“Why is this like this?” Steve wondered aloud.

 

Steve continued his quest to the countryside. As he started to get farther from the center of the city things started to pan out, he saw cattle chewing cud and lumbering around on the horizon. No assignments, meetings and whatnot. Steve hadn’t considered how boring a life of a cow might be, they don’t have anything to do. They are born, they eat food, they die. That was their life. Then again, Steve pondered, maybe they like it that way, maybe I would like it. So Steve decided to sleep on it. With his briefcase as a pillow, Steve set up camp under a nice oak tree in a grassy plain. The tree wasn’t too big yet and provided a good amount of shade. It fanned out as an umbrella over him and the micro-organisms around him. The ground was moist from morning dew, dampening his suit. As Steve stopped thinking so much and just looked, he noticed plenty of life around him. A colony of ants were carrying some food for the queen, a squirrel had just buried an acorn and looked around, perpetually nervous. All this life, and none of it could contemplate their existence and why they work so hard. This type of philosophy annoyed Steve, so with his busy day behind him, he dozed off into sleep.

 

Steve woke up in the morning lying down next to a bald man wearing bright orange clothes, with some white fabric among them. The day had a small orange glow to it, from the rain the day before, the thin clouds parsed among the happily glowing sun. Steve sat up and tried to wake up a little more.

“Good morning,” said the Bald Man in a euphoric yet subdued voice.

“Howdy,” said Steve, straightening his tie “Do you have a moment to talk?”

“A moment or an hour, I’m always ready.” said the Bald Man with a serene warmth circling his body.

“Great, because I need to verify my existence,” Steve said with some hope in his voice.

“Then sit with me, we will become one with the world.” the Bald Man said, beckoning Steve to sit with him. The Bald Man easily slid into lotus position while Steve was struggling to get comfortable. They sat together in a soothing silence, listening to the animals around them, the wind blowing and the trees shaking. Steve’s shoulders relaxed and dropped as he took the world in. All these animals that Steve had previously been pondering about suddenly felt more alive than before. He recognized that they did have a conscience, no matter how small it may be. After a half-hour of sitting down and just listening Steve opened his eyes to find that there were animals all around him. These animals, just living their lives like any other day, working around him,

“So, how do you feel now?” questioned the Bald Man.

“Wonderful,” said Steve, snapping out of his harmonic glaze. This sitting and thinking helped Steve. He still felt incomplete, but in a more defined way.

“Thank you for all your help,” said Steve as he stood up, brushed the small clumps of dirt off his clothes and walked back to the city feeling new readiness he hadn’t experienced before.

 

Upon returning to his house and sitting down Steve thought about the marvelous adventure he had just experienced, meeting new people and seeing new things. The comfort of the known no longer gave him peace as he longed to explore into the world that he had just experienced. Steve thought about the future for the first time in too long. Steve thought about the restrictions his job might bring him and the futility of his work, after seeing such beautiful things and meeting such wonderful people he no longer felt like going to his job. So the next morning, Steve woke up and didn’t turn at all, walking straight forwards.

“Thomas Jayden?” The cold voice demands an answer from me. I don't have an answer. My hands thrash against the rope pinning them against my sides. I thrash my legs making no progress. 

“Stop!” I scream. “Stop it! It's not my fault! I did nothing wrong!” I feel my body already starting to bruise but in my panic I don't care. I try to hit whatever I can with my thrashing body but my elbow connects with nothing. I am escorted into a room that resembles a prison cell more than a hospital room. 

“Stop fighting. You are not strong enough.” The voice threatens me to stand down. Feeling defeated, my body goes limp in the arms of those carrying me to the room. 

“Please. Listen,” my voice breaks on the last syllable. “I didn't mean to hurt anyone. The voices. They talked to me. They were telling me things but it wasn't my voice speaking. Please. I know others could hear them.” The person who the cold voice belongs to looks at me with dark eyes. His face holds no sign of sympathy. 

“Another schizophrenic. Put him in the room.” He walks away motioning to the pale, white room that sits waiting for me. I don't bother trying to fight. This is one battle I know I can not win with force. The guards force me onto the lone hospital bed and fasten the bonds restraining my wrists onto the side of the bed. The rough material is as welcoming as the those who bought it. 

“Please,” I whisper. Without hesitation, the guards turn their backs on me and walk silently out of the room. The click of the lock decides the fate of whatever future I have left. 

… 

“False evidence appearing real… f-false evidence appearing r-real. False…” My shoulders start to shake. The small slip of paper that displays the words so boldly begins to crumple under the strict tension of my fingers. “False…” I bow my head and squeeze my eyes shut. My palms press against my head as if the force could keep the voices away. It’s a hopeless effort. I can’t. I can not continue telling myself this lie. Heavy footsteps sound in the hallway and I focus on the blank walls trying to calm myself. The door swings open and I can tell without looking up that Dr. Strauss has entered my room. Besides nurses, he is the only person allowed through the barriers of this room. No one in or out for the sake of protection. 

“What progress has been made?” He asks an open question but his tone demands one answer. The only acceptable answer. 

“They’re real,” I whisper. It’s the only way I can keep the hysterics from entering my voice.

“What?” I raise my head to meet his eyes. 

“They’re real. I’m not insane. I hear them. They talk to me.” Wrong answer. Dr. Strauss looks at me with pity in his eyes.“I swear. Please. I'm telling the truth.” Dr. Strauss starts to turn away. “Wait! There’s Mrs. Felding!” Desperation becomes apparent in my tone. “She’s a kind lady who seems to hold a lifetime of grief in every word she speaks to me. She begs me to come back though I don’t know where. Then there’s Dr. James Belfer. He seems to comfort the others. He always assures me it will be ok. Though whenever I hear him pain starts to throb all throughout me. My arms feel heavy and my entire body feels as if it is constantly being stung by needles. And then there’s Ainsley. She’s innocent and pure. She makes me feel calm as she’s always around. She never stops talking,” I laugh, which for me just sounds like I’m choking on the air. “They’re real. I feel their voices echo in my head and all around me!” I wish with every part of me I could just let others know what I know. Show them something I’m so confident and sure is real. My feeling of comfort is quickly taken away.

“They’re not real,” Dr. Strauss says through clenched teeth.

“It’s ok TJ,” Ainsley interrupts him.

“They’re not real,” Dr. Strauss repeats, unfazed. “They are pigments of your imagination. You’re a schizophrenic! That’s what this disease is called! You hear things! Fake things! You are at the mercy of whatever fantasies your mind can conjure!”

“Please don't keep me here in this prison,” I beg. 

“The hardest prison to escape is in your mind. You are imprisoning yourself.” His stare is steady on me, making me feel small. I stay silent knowing there is nothing left for me to say. I bow my head once again. I hear the voices all talking at once though speaking no coherent words. Dr. Strauss gives me one last look of disgust and exits the room leaving me feeling as helpless as ever. I am scared. I am scared of all the things I can feel but can not see. I scream trying to let out all my frustration and the feeling of being trapped. After a couple seconds my scream seems to fade out. I sit on the rough mattress feeling no better from the hollow scream. I bury my head in my hands as the small, white paper flutters to the ground. False. Evidence. Appearing. Real.

… 

“Wake up! Please Thomas! Please wake up!” The broken voice wakes me from my fitful sleep. I tilt my head looking around the vast room in which I now live. All alone. No change. White walls surround my vision. “Please come. Please come back.” The feminine voice of Mrs. Felding echoes in my head. I have felt her lose hope. I feel it inside me now, weighing down my heart. I yearn to go back but I don’t know where I need to go. The others continuously reassure me that everything will be ok but I never knew there was something to be worried about. 

“Keep it together,” I tell myself. I take a deep breath. I have only lost control once. I'm never allowed to forget it. I clench my fists and wince as my nails connect with raw skin. I look down and see my hands mangled from my own nails. I’m not surprised. Every day I go to sleep and every morning I wake up covered in scratches. My arms and legs all bear the evidence of my nightmares. The tips of my brown hair brush against my forehead and graze against an open claw mark. My hand reflexively goes up to protect what’s already been injured. I close my eyes and tilt my head back. I plead for the voices to leave but the murmur is never gone. It is always present, a continuous loop of voices. My mind is repeating the only thing I heard last night. The only thing I could dream.

“Forget everything and run,” they said. “Or face everything and rise. The choice is yours to make just please make the right one.” Ainsley’s sorrow chokes my thoughts. The hinges of the door to my room creak open. I jump at the sound fearful of what will enter through the doorway. A nurse steps into the room. 

“How are you today?” She asks in a cheery voice. At first I don’t answer. 

“You’re doing great,” Dr. Belfer tells me.

“I-I’m doing… great,” I stutter. The voices are swirling inside me. My vision blacks out and then comes into focus.

“That’s good. You seem better.” 

“You’ll be ok.”

“I’m… I'm going to be… ok.” Sweat starts to form at the base of my neck. 

The nurse’s brow furrows as she sets down the tray she entered with. On it is a new slip of paper. A new quote I need to teach myself. A new cure. I glance over at the new piece of paper. 

“The soul always knows what to do to heal itself. The challenge is to… silence the mind.” I sigh and turn my head back to the door. The nurse quietly leaves, closing the door behind her while giving me a last, melancholy smile. Suddenly, my breath hitches in my throat and pain explodes in my chest. The intense throb feels like my heart is just now starting to beat again. Every beat feels harsh and forced. Pain erupts everywhere in my body. I bend over. I try to scream but I feel as if the wind has been knocked out of me. I gasp trying for any sort of breath. Panic swarms my mind. “No! Please. Not again.” I try to breath but I might as well be trying to breath under 60 feet of water. My senses are gone, lost in the panic. I try to walk but my legs fail me. My body slams against the floor. The unwelcoming cold of the cement seeps through every bone in my body. I scrunch my body as small as possible. Screams die in my throat but echo inside my head. 

“Thomas! Wake up! Please!” My mind is blocked. I hear screams everywhere. “Don’t let go! Help! Please Thomas! Don’t leave!” All the cuts on my body have reopened feeling like a thousand memories exploding at once. I throw my head back as sweat drips down the side of my neck. Every muscle in my body has clenched yet no movement seems to work. Panic unfurls in my chest and everything has suddenly gone silent for the first time. I am all that is left. I start to find a wisp of breath and I hear a clouded scream, not knowing it was my own. 

“Help. Please,” I plead. Even I can not hear my own hoarse whisper. I pause, tears frozen on my face. I am no longer feeling the intense pain that used to envelop me. All I feel is panic. Anxiety leaves me with shortness of breath. I twist laying on my back. My mind suddenly goes blank easing all feelings of panic out of me until there is just one final thought left. The end. That’s all I want. I want the end. I want the pain, the voices, everything to stop. I want the peace that I have longed for for so long. I didn’t used to want this. Any of it. I now have no other option. I lay on the ground staring at the ceiling. Tears fall down the sides of my head. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t want to lose my life before I had truly lived it. I feel the sensation start to leave my body as my body will no longer be a part of this world. My breath is no longer there as I try for one last second of life. I grasp for breath but there is nothing left to grasp. I feel my heart stop and I know the end is here. I can’t see anything except for light. Light was there to welcome me into this world and it is here to take me away from it. The sadness surrounds me and I close my eyes and know that I will not live long enough to open them again.

… 

The light that surrounds me no longer feels warm and comforting but that of harsh fluorescents. Slowly opening them halfway, I blink adjusting my eyes to the light. My soft eyelashes flutter against my cheeks. Surprised, I open my eyes fully and gasp. Stale air fills my lungs but nonetheless, air is racing through me once again. I sit up taking short harsh breaths. My throat feels swollen and rough. I can not understand why I am still here but I know it wasn't an easy job. My body is an entanglement of tubes and wires. I can't tell where one tube begins and another ends. I look around and see the white of a hospital surrounding me. Panic blocks my mind as what I believe is reality crashes upon me. Still here. Still locked in my own prison. I feel gentle yet firm hands restrain me against the bed. 

“It's ok. Thomas it will be ok.” I look around and realize for the first time others have joined me in the confined space. There is a petite middle aged woman sitting anxiously in a chair ready to assist me at any time. Standing protectively next to her is a young girl in her early teens. She has light brown hair that's tangled down her back and light blue eyes. Both that match those of my own. 

“Thomas.” The older woman moves towards me. 

“Wait mom. Give him a moment.” The matured voice comes from the young girl standing near my bed. She looks as if she wishes to move closer to me. 

I look up at the body looming over me. A tall man in his mid thirties towers above. I look into his eyes and my body starts to calm itself. My chest still rises and falls quickly. I look around me. 

“What…? Where…?”

“Your name is Thomas Jayden Felding,” he starts slowly. “You are here in St. Joseph's hospital in Stockton, California. It's ok. My name is Dr. James Belfer.”

“F-Felding?” Fear overcomes me. The young girl steps towards me. 

“Ainsley wait.” The doctor motions for her to stay where she is. “TJ, you've been in a coma. You've just been asleep for a little bit. Good news is, you're awake now and everything will be ok. We’re taking care of you. We know it's a lot to process.” I lay there, motionless, not knowing what to do. 

“We’re your family TJ. We talked to you everyday.” Ainsley's voice sounds broken. I look at her close to tears. I remember her. “We begged you to come back. We told you it would be ok.” Our eyes meet. 

“I'll be ok?” I asked. 

“Yes. 

“I-I’m not crazy?”

“No. You're ok. Everything will be ok.” I stare at the ceiling. I feel tears graze my cheekbones and fall staining my hospital gown. 

“I-I-I’m ok. I'm not cr-crazy. I knew they were real. I… I'm not crazy.” The words taste foreign in my mouth. For the first time in a long time I feel ok. I feel like my true and utter self. My body shakes with the tears of relief. I close my eyes now knowing that I will open them again. Knowing others will be here for me when I wake. Knowing there's no more false evidence appearing real. Knowing there's no more fear. 

“But why?” I asked.

“You’ll know sooner or later,” sighed Ma.

“Are you just going to leave me with… Grandpa?”

“I’m sorry, Cong, I’m really sorry.”

“But… but I already lost my ba, and now I’m going to lose my ma?”

“It’s the only way, son.”

“But… but…”

“I have to go now. Take care of yourself and Grandpa.”

Those were the last words my ma spoke to me before she went to fight in the Sino-Vietnamese war in 1979. Sixth months later– when I was only 9 years old– she was killed by a Vietnamese soldier. But I didn't find out that she had died so soon after joining the war until my grandpa told me the day after I turned 16. Until then, whenever I asked about Ma, Grandpa would tell me that she had been captured by the enemy and would return one day.

“Cong, I think it’s time to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“It’s that.... It’s how your ma died.”

“How my… ma died?”

“Yes.”

“But didn't you say she was captured by the enemy and would return?”

“You were only 9 years old. You were too young to know that your ma had died.”

“But if you didn't want to tell me when I was 9 years old, then why are you telling me now?”

“I am telling you now because I realized that you have the right to know, and I promised your ma before she went to war that if she dies, I will tell you what happened when you reached  16.”

I almost blurted out that I didn’t care about the promise and that I may not be able to stand it, but before I said that, I started to cry.

“Cong, I know it’s hard for you to accept that your ma is dead, but you should know this. It was early 1979, and your ma received a letter that there was going to be a war against Vietnam. The letter also wrote that the army would need some more soldiers, so your ma, your brave ma, volunteered to fight against the Vietnamese. She thought that if she helped fight, then there would be a better chance of winning because she was a brave woman. But in the end, a Vietnamese soldier killed your ma. That was your ma’s life. Very hard and very cruel.”

After he was done with the story, I couldn’t stop crying. I thought about how my ma sacrificed herself, and how Vietnam still won. I thought about how she was so happy with me before she went to fight in the war. Then, I couldn’t help but think that what if I could help her take revenge on the Vietnamese? What if we could start a battle against them and then win? I quickly put that idea aside. There was no way I could start a war, and there was no way I would have a plan to attack the Vietnamese. There was no hope that I can avenge Ma.

After two years went by, I realized that I couldn't take it anymore. I told my grandpa that I wanted to take revenge against the Vietnamese.

“Grandpa, I know you may think I’m stupid and whatever, but I want to say to you that after you told me the story of how Ma died, I just want to… avenge her. I want to attack the Vietnamese. I just can’t stand knowing how the Vietnamese killed Ma. I’m sorry Grandpa, but I already decided I will attack the Vietnamese. Thanks for taking care of me after… after all these years. I’m really sorry.”

Then, he said something very surprising.

“Ah, my dear grandson. There is no need to be sorry. Avenging your ma is not a bad thing, but just be careful when you attack. I have no right to stop you, but I want to tell you this before you leave, just to give you some more confidence. When you were 5 years old, your ba also had to go to war against the Vietnamese for the Paracel Islands. Even though we, China, won, many people still died, and that included your ba.”

“My ba also died at the hands of the Vietnamese? Why? What has our family ever done to Vietnam? It’s not fair.”

“Cong, there are situations in life that are just not fair, but that’s why your first name is Cong, and your middle name is Cheng. Cong means wise, Cheng means succeeded, and even your last name fits into this situation.”

Gang. Gang (刚) was my last name and it meant… powerful.

“Before your ba went to fight in the war, he said to name you Cong (聪) because he wanted you to be wise and if there was another war, you could come up with strategies to defeat the enemy. Since your ma wanted you to win any war that was coming, she gave you your middle name Cheng (成). You can avenge your ma and ba. You can do it. You are wise, successful and powerful.”

I didn’t know what to say to Grandpa. I didn’t know that my name was that… meaningful.

“Cong, you are 18 years old now. You are an adult. Go and avenge your parents. You can do it. Just remember what I said about your name when you take revenge. You are wise, successful and powerful.”

Wise. Successful. Powerful.

It was two months after the talk with Grandpa. I had formed a little army with my friends. We agreed that no matter what, we would attack and win against the Vietnamese. We decided to attack a nearby enemy island when the soldiers let their guards down and win that island called Truong Sa. We felt that we deserved it.

The next day, my friends and I went to the People’s Liberation Army to get the guns. They decided that this was a good time for revenge, so they gave us some experienced soldiers and an army boat for our journey, but we had to train for one month with the guns. One month after that day, we would attack. One month would be enough training with the guns. One month would have to be enough.

During the first week of training, I met Xiang.

“Hey, Cong, I heard that you are going to attack the Vietnamese!” exclaimed Xiang.

“Well, yeah,” I said.

“You excited?!”

“Yes and no.”

“Wow, confusing feelings! Anyways, I’m Xiang.”

“Um, nice to meet you, Xiang.”

“Yeah, so… how old are you?”

“Uh… why do you want to know?”

“Oh, because I want to know if I’m older or you’re older. I’m 23 and I never led an army to attack an enemy before.”

“Wait… you’re 23?”

“Yeah, what’s so surprising? If I had to guess how old you are, I would guess… 20.”

“What makes you think I’m 20?”

“Uh, your face and your personality; your face doesn’t look too young, yet not as old as me and your personality is pretty serious.”

“Thank you so much,” I said sarcastically.

I bit back an insult: And I am surprised that you’re 23 because you act like a 2-year-old.

“So are you 20 or not?”

“Close to 20, but not quite. I’m 18.”

“What?! 18?! No way!”

“Yeh way! And now, if you would let me practice my shooting, it would be a pleasure.”

“Ugh, why do conversations have to end so quickly?”

The second week of the training, I made friends with Xiang.

“Sup Cong?”

“Get out of my way, Xiang.”

“What? I just wanted to say ‘Sup’…”

“Well, you said it right? Now go away.”

“Hey, you can’t boss me around! I’m 3, no, 5 years older than you!”

“Yeah, I don’t care. Goodbye now.”

“Hey, I am here to make friends. I don’t have many friends because I choose wisely who my friends should be, and you should be honored.”

Yeah right! Maybe people don’t want to be your friend because you act like an idiot.

“Okay then. How about I make a deal. I’ll be your friend and you’ll go away.”

“Deal! Goodbye Friend!”

During the third week of training, I tried, without success, to ignore Xiang.

“Hi Cong!” said Xiang.

There was a moment of silence except for the gun shooting.

“Cong? You still remember me right?”

What? You think I can’t remember anything?

“Cong! Can you hear me?”

So you think I am deaf now.

“Cong! Are you okay? Should I call for help?”

Help? I will just make the soldiers mad because I don’t need help at all. Geez, this guy is not as stupid at making people talk as I thought he was.

“Hey, Xiang. You don’t need to call for help. I was just concentrating on my gunshots.” I lied.

“Whew. I thought you either forgot about me or were deaf.”

“That is such a nice thing to say.”

“Hey, I just came to give you this.”

He quickly handed his package to me and left.

I opened the package, and what was inside made me gasp.

The fourth week, which was also the last week, of training, I became best friends with Xiang.

“Hey, Xiang.”

“Yeah, Cong?”

“I just wanted to say thanks, but where in the world did you get that dagger? Isn't that the famous dagger that Ming Dynasty used? I heard that it had been passed down from generation to generation. Are you…?”

“I am, but that's a story for another time. Right now, you need to focus on training.”

“But–”

“No excuses. This is the last week for you to train. Use the time wisely.”

I was shocked at how he was being so serious. Before I could say anything to him, he quickly walked away.

The four weeks of training were over. It was time to sail to the island. My friends and the other soldiers were as ready as I was. We were sure that we were going to win Truong Sa.

We estimated that it would take three days until we arrive there. During those three days, I thought that if Xiang was on this boat, he would have bugged me. I already missed him, but that gave me the determination that I will come out of this alive. I will come out of this alive and give that dagger back to Xiang. I will.

During the second day, we all agreed that we would attack during midnight because most people would be asleep by then. We checked our armors and prepared for the attack.

When we arrived at Truong Sa, the sun was starting to set. We ate dinner and slept for a while so we would have the energy to attack. Surprisingly, the Vietnamese didn’t have any guns. We thought that this would be easy.

During midnight, the soldiers and I went out of the ship and onto the island. We shuffled quietly through the silent, peaceful night. At first, I felt a little guilty that we were attacking without notice and during a such a beautiful night, but when I remembered that Ma and Ba can never be with me during beautiful nights ever again, it made me very angry. I felt like I can take down ten people by myself.

Each one of us had been assigned to kill every person in a house. Every one of us tiptoed so quietly that even I had to look behind me to see if I was dreaming about this. Apparently, I wasn’t, so I went to the house that I was assigned. I didn’t know how many people were in the house, so I was kind of nervous. I held my gun tighter.

When I was in front of the house, I kicked open the door and examined it. It had dirty clothes on the floor and food everywhere. Then, I realized that this was a dude; a dude that is too lazy to do their laundry and throw away their junk food, and usually a dude like this is pretty tough to fight. Then, I reminded myself that I had the gun.

While I was examining the house, the dude went out of his room. I was a split-second too late; that dude already knocked the gun out of my hand. I was about to grab it back from the ground, but at the same time, he kicked it out of the door. I realized that this dude wanted to physically fight but I was only trained to aim with the gun during training. Also, this dude had good reflexes. At first, I panicked, but then I realized how much I was going to owe Xiang.

When I came back to my house, I gave Grandpa a big hug. I told him how I won Truong Sa for China and how I got to avenge Ma and Ba, and he congratulated me. After the visit with Grandpa, it was time to see Xiang.

“Hey, Xiang. It’s so nice to see you again!” I exclaimed.

“Thank god you came back alive.”

“You shouldn’t thank the gods, you should thank yourself.”

“Why?”

“Oh, so I was fighting this dude. This dude had very good reflexes and I lost my gun. So–”

“Wait. You lost your gun?!” interrupted Xiang.

“Well, that dude had good reflexes and kicked the gun right out of my hands. You can’t blame me that he had good reflexes and I don’t. Well, anyways, while he was charging at me, I sidestepped and quickly pulled out your dagger and stabbed it into his heart. He was very shocked that I had a dagger all along and I was very shocked that I killed a dude.”

“Well, you killed him because you were saving your own life.”

“I still can’t believe I killed someone. Anyways, I came to ask you what would be a good name to name this battle.”

“Wait a minute. You get to name this battle?”

“Well, I was the leader.”

“Fine then, leader. Do you have a name on top of your head right now?”

“Uh, if you count “The Gang War”, then yeah.

“Okay then, I’ll take that as a no. I was thinking that we should name it the “Massacre on the Spratly Islands in 1988” because it was more like a massacre rather than a battle and Truong Sa was in the Spratly Islands.”

“When did you get so smart? Um, nevermind I said that. I am going to report that name to the headquarters now.”

“Okay, and remember to give me credit!” shouted Xiang as Cong ran down the hill.

“You bet!” shouted Cong, but he was already too far for Xiang to hear.

 

When I woke up everything felt normal, actually everything felt better than it usually did. But I felt weird, like I had forgotten something, something entirely. I went down stairs to get breakfast. My parents were on a business trip, so I was completely alone. I made myself a bowl of cereal because that was all I really know how to make. But when I finished pouring the milk in the bowl I had found I was not hungry so I put the bowl on the counter.

Then I got ready to go to school. School didn’t start for another hour, but I had nothing better to do. When I was finished I sat down on the couch and stared at the wall. Usually I thought about what was going on in my life and sometimes I thought about different things like how Staples is the superior office supply store. I had realized that if I didn’t leave soon I would be late so I grabbed my stuff and ran out the door.  

I almost fell when I was leaving because I was going so fast. It was sunny out and my mom’s flowers were covering the garden, almost looking a little too overgrown.

“Alexander!” I heard someone scream behind me “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey” I turned around and there was Geoff. Geoff was wearing bright pink flip-flops, orange parachute pants, a Hawaiian shirt, and sunglasses.

“Hello Geoff, what’s up?” I said to him. Geoff smirked and then suddenly looked a little uncomfortable.

“Well, you were… you were.. um... nevermind.” this was odd for Geoff who could usually never answer a question in less than 10 sentences.

“Okay…” I said “this is not weird at all.” Geoff and I started walking when suddenly Geoff tripped on his flip-flop, which sent him tumbling to the ground.

“You alright?” I asked. I could see that Geoff’s knee was bleeding. He got up off of the ground and grinned.

“I’m just great.” he said looking down at his knee. Then he and I finished walking  to school.

We walked into school and suddenly everyone was staring at me. Not just casually looking over their shoulder, actual staring.

“Um... Geoff, what happened?” I looked over a Geoff whose face looked like someone who was about to tell someone that their grandmother had died.

“Well, there was that thing and you kind of… I.. um… I like those shoes. We should get to class.” then Geoff ran off leaving me all alone. Everyone was still staring at me. Some people looked nervous, some looked as though they were about to burst into laughter. I had realized that I had been standing there a while so I started to walk towards my locker.

I saw Penelope, who has curly blond hair and green eyes. She was standing with her two only friends, Laura and Willow. Penelope and I used to play soccer together, but then we both realized that we hated it so we both stopped.

Penelope quickly glanced at me. She looked away quickly and then said something to Laura and Willow that made them look amused and worried at the same time. I meandered towards my locker. The staring had not stopped so by this point I was scared. I don't really know why, but I was really scared.

During class everyone continued to stare and all the teachers were acting strange.  Everyone seemed to be acting weird. At lunch people didn’t stare as much. A lot of them acted normal and as though nothing had happened. Geoff was dissecting a tater tot and telling me about a new laser thing his dad was building.

After lunch everyone started to act weirder around me. When I was in class Penelope sat next to me. I tried to ask her what had happened, but unlike Geoff, who got all flustered when I brought it up, she acted as though nothing was wrong and as though nobody was acting weird. And as I sat there staring out the window looking at this little kid who was playing across the street, all I could think about was how much I hated this and how much it scared me.

The next day things were the same. When I woke up I stared at the wall, then ate my breakfast. I wished my parents were there. I was tired because that night it had been hard to sleep. As I tiredly walked out the door, Geoff, excited as ever, joined me. Today he was wearing keens, dress pants, and a shirt that read “they're gonna get ya” with a little picture of an alien next to it. In his arms was a leather jacket.

“Hello Geoffrey, good to see ya” I said to him. Geoff smiled.

“Hello Muriel,” said Geoff. I hated it when he called me by my middle name. “ Isn't it a wonderful day. A great day. It's gonna be a good day. We have two tests. Two! How awful. But it's still gonna be a great day. My dad was as at the store yesterday and guess what happened. He got pooped on by a bird!” Geoff said all of this in a tone that fluctuated between dull and excited. I asked him about yesterday, but he answered the same way he had yesterday. Un-Geoff-like.

We walked into school and the same thing happened. Staring. This time some people started looking away. Some people laughed. Some people looked like they were going to cry. Geoff started to look nervous and then suddenly ran off. I was all alone, standing there.

“What did I do?” I shouted. Instead of answering my rather easy question, everyone looked away. I felt angry. I also felt scared again. I walked to my locker and got my stuff. I went to class. I carried on as though nothing was wrong.

During lunch the same thing happened. I sat next to Geoff, who was again dissecting something on his plate. Geoff started to laugh. I asked him why he was laughing.

“I don’t really know. I was just looking at my food and then all of a sudden I just felt like laughing.” said Geoff. He picked up a spoonful of the brown looking thing on his plate and brought it up to his mouth. Only it didn’t make it and the brown sludge landed on the little green alien. “Come on!” Geoff shouted. Then he walked to the bathroom.

When Geoff got back he was smiling. The little green alien on his shirt looked a little browner. Geoff sat down and finished eating his lunch.

The same thing happened after lunch. Everyone started acting weirder. Geoff had disappeared and was nowhere to be found. I was in class and everyone was staring. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sit there and feel their eyes upon me. I ran out of the room. Mr. Hall didn’t try to stop me. Immediately after I ran out the door there was Geoff. He was getting a drink from the drinking fountain.

“Okay, Geoff” I said “What happened? Why is everyone acting so weird? Is this some weird prank? What is going on?!!” Geoff looked startled and then suddenly he smiled

“You really want to know what happened?” asked Geoff. I nodded. “Fine. On Monday afternoon, there was that assembly. Remember?” I nodded. “Well during the assembly you started acting weird. Really weird. You were saying all these things about chickens and all other sorts of weird stuff. At one point you were talking about politics. And during the assembly you also got in front everyone and started doing the chicken dance. You did a lot of things that were weirder that that. Well at the end you stormed out. And after you left everyone was really confused. Some people thought it was really funny and some people were scared, they thought you’d gone crazy. And I tried to defend you, but no one would believe me. That's why everyone was looking at you. Most people thought you were gonna do it again.” I looked at Geoff in astonishment.          

This had to be some sort of prank. How could I not remember this?

“Really Geoff? Is this some sort of prank? It’s not like I would of suddenly forget something like that. And it’s not like people would be so scared of something like that.” Then Geoff pulled out his phone and a couple seconds later handed it to me. There I was at the assembly. I looked normal. Then I started doing all the stuff Geoff had said I had done and worse. How could I forget this? I gave Geoff his phone back. He stared at me.

“Geoff, please stop with the staring.” I told him.

“Sorry” he said. Then we both walked back to our classes and never talked about the event or the days after it ever again. After a while people stopped staring. But no one ever said anything to me and I never found out why I forgot everything. But I liked it when everything went back to normal.