Writing Challenge: 100 Stories. 1 Month.

[Ella Tate]

24. Heavy

The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads up to who knows where

[/center]

Fifteen years ago, all Ella had to think about was herself. And her kitten. Her mom and Faith, they were important but Ella never burdened herself with them. But everything changed the moment she met the love of her life.

No, not in the romantical sense. She wasn't even sure she even had a romantical sense. She still thought it was silly to be bogged down by someone you were responsible for on a temporary basis. No. The man in question was John Fitzgerald Thornton.

She had shared many years as a surrogate family to him and his little girl and in those years, Ella had never been happier. Sure, they had their ups and downs. More so than the usual family simply because all three of them were gifted and their abilities together were a disaster to control. Especially Addie's as hers was raw and untamed for quite some time.

So on we go
His welfare is of my concern
No burden is he to bear

[/center]

Ella used more of her powers on Addie than she'd have liked but she had to concentrate way too much on her suppression so John wasn't effected. Her migraines had doubled in size with the years. She had a hard time trying to keep it from her surrogate family but even she underestimated her own ability to hide things from people.

Neither John nor Addie ever figured out though, as perceptive as both of them were. She knew John well enough to know how he would react to her being sick at all. The man worried too much.

It was like the world needed to be Addie proofed when he finally got her. Ella was afraid the little girl would grow stunted just out of the protection John tried to issue. It took awhile for John to ease up on his protectiveness but Ella knew enough never to worry the older man lest she wanted him to have an aneurism.

It's a long, long road
From which there is no return

[/center]

But as all things in Ella's life that seems too perfect to be true, things come to an abrupt end. An abrupt and untimely end. The added pressure of narrowing her powers to stabilise specific metas instead of the usual fifty yards her power allowed, combined with her smoking habit probably helped bringing Ella to the emergency room.

Her lungs had collapsed on her and her brain activity was slowly deteriorating. What brought it to that was due to her suppressing a rather powerful Psionic blaster who had John on his knees.

A home invasion.

Addie had been the target. They had been recruiting to continue the legacy Gabriel Underwood had left. It was the damndest thing and they were smart about it. Bringing a Psionic blaster and a telepath since they knew Addie's guardian was a physical meta.

They didn't count on Ella, a power suppressor being there. But even in the chaos, the telepath managed to mess with her ability, forcing her to use her power on herself. The bastard sapped her energy reserves dry, causing her brain activity to slowly wither away even as Addie managed to incapacitate the meta hurting her adopted father long enough for John send a straight blow down the telepath's neck.

It was a little too late for Ella as blood trickled from her eyes and nose and ears, losing consciousness as John tried to wake her up. But she was gone.

And the load
Doesn't weigh me down at all
He ain't heavy, he's my brother

[/center]

[Mia Keystone]

47. Chasing


”I don’t have time for your bullshit. Get in, get the data and get out,” Mia snapped, the webcam catching the bespectacled scowling face, grey streaked hair pulled back in a tight bun. ”Dragon out.”

The name had started as a joke when she was promoted, but the dour faced woman had found out. She always found out. And she liked it. It suited her, she thought. With a sigh she closed her eyes and started checking the gps devices now routinely installed in all CIA gear and equipment. Her team was on track. They were good and despite her rather rough handling of them, she always made sure they’d get through ok, even if it meant the occasional field trip herself.

She was getting to old for those now though.

Satisfied that, for now, the simulation was going according to plan Mia opened her eyes and slid out of the network. Eyes that struggled to see outside of a code anymore flicked over her desk and she sighed.

”Ms Keystone?” her intercom chimed, the AI voice much preferable to the annoying receptionist they’d tried to saddle her with. ”Trip to Vermont to go ahead as planned?”

”Affirmative,” Mia said quickly, then with a thought opened a channel to the highest ranked under her command and waved him down from standing at attention. Was a stupid thing to do via camera anyway. “Trip to go ahead. I’ll be...”

“Three days. We know,” the man said, his tone respectful, but obviously amused. “Same as every year. Permission to speak freely?,” Mia rolled her eyes and waved him on, “but you’re, well, do you still think given,” he waved a hand over the military jacket they insisted she wear and all the stupid bits of metal hanging over it, "given your position now, talking to a bunch of school kids is a good way to spend your time?”

Mia sighed and shrugged, tugging at her earrings (the lip rings were long gone- too easy to rip out in hand to hand combat which she’d learnt the hard way). “Been going there for what, twenty years now?”

“Twenty six,” her second in command corrected with a resigned smile.

“Pity to stop now then,” Mia pointed out and, in a reflex she had not yet grown out of, went to rake her fingers through her hair. The bun stopped her and she shrugged. “It’s important. Who else is going to install the fear of higher powers into the next generation of super kids?” With a dry smirk she winked into the web cam. “See you in three days. Phone’s on but-”

“Emergency only. We know, Keystone. We know. Enjoy your reunion. You know, not many people liked school this much.”

Mia rolled her eyes and snapped the laptop close and stretched her arms behind her, her shoulders protesting. "Glados," Mia pressed the button on her intercom, "hotel reservation confirmed?"

"Yes Ms Keystone," the robotic voice replied. "Is there anything else?"

The General paused for a moment, calculating eyes flicking to a framed photograph on her desk as her finger ran over the gold band on her right hand. "No. Nothing else."

It would be three years in two months. Mia pressed her intercom again. "Wait, Glados, check the florist and make sure my order's been sent." Without waiting for an answer, the woman turned of the speaker system and closed her eyes.

"I hated school," she muttered to herself, then sighed and stood up. If her younger self had been in the room, she would have kicked herself in the ass and Mia knew it. Spending three days a year at her teenage school chasing ghosts...

Her fingers traced the band again and for a moment the Dragon General looked her age as she lent against the desk. A beeping shook her out and she glanced at her GPS tracker.

"Fucking hell, do I have to do everything myself?" she snapped to no one, and bolted out of her office.

[Levi Xu]

23. Gibberish

"Hi, Levi. My name is Ben." The psychologist sat on the other bed in the infirmary, just far away enough that the boy didn't startle. He'd been observing Levi for around eight hours now, as they waited for Dr. Xu to get there. (He refused to let his son be interviewed like this unless he could be there.)

Levi hadn't done much in that time, just sat on the bed, rocking back and forth, for hours. When they had tried to get him to change out of his bloody clothes, he'd screamed and flailed, and hit harder, with more accuracy than someone without serious training should have.

"Levi?" Ben asked again, after a moment.

For the first time, Levi looked up at him, dark eyes making a connection, but he still kept rocking. "No, it's not, but it's okay because at least you're a lying human this time. And I don't like owls."

Ben's eyebrows quirked up in surprise, but Sean had warned him about this. "Who else has lied to you?"

"Everyone. Are people watching us from outside?"

"Yes. Your dad's here too."

"Good," Levi said, and this could have been any interview Ben had done, if it wasn't for the rocking and the location. Kids were usually relieved when they knew their parents were nearby.

"I want to talk to you about what happened yesterday. Do you remember?" Ben waited for a response, more than the haunted look in the boy's eyes. "Levi, what happened to Evan?"

"Got shot." Levi's rocking sped up, and he wrapped his arms around himself. "He's bad at saving people. Should have ducked. Should have spidey-sensed it. Shouldn't have gotten in the way. He's the hero. He's not supposed to die."

"Why didn't you call for help?"

"Arterial wound. He bled out too fast." At least the boy was showing some emotion now, his head canted to the side, and his voiced closed to breaking. "I just tried...I made him comfortable."

"Do you know who did it?"

"Why are you the one asking? Shouldn't it be Dr. N?" His time at Hammel had been spent avoiding him as much as possible, but he'd still adopted how Sam referred to the man. "Sam says he's a shrink. But I'm not sure if it's lying if you actually believe it."

Ben decided to let the discussion of ethics and lying go. Sean hadn't been kidding, it was hard making sense of the kid. But it wasn't as bad as what the telepath had said, at least not for him. "He's a telepath. He tried to talk to you yesterday, when you came back. Do you remember that?"

"I don't like voices in my head. Don't care if it's God, still don't want him there."

"Is...is Dr. Neville God?" Ben asked, surprised. The telepath had asked for his help, because he wouldn't get the stream of disjointed images, lacking context or any semblance of order. At least not mentally. "He said you said he was a lion."

"Apparently it's not mutually exclusive. Gossip is rude."

"Did you shoot your friend?"

Levi stopped rocking for a moment to stare into the psychologist's eyes, offended. "No."

"If it was an accident, you can tell us."

"No." Levi stuck out his right hand and resumed his steady rhythm, as accurate as a metronome. "If I did, there'd be residue on my hand and sleeve."

"Levi, there is." But the boy didn't respond to that, just drew his arm right against his sleeve again. "You roommates and your friends say you two were really close. Did you get into a fight?"

"Who said? Mia? Don't trust her. She likes dead things."

"Sam said you liked Evan as more than a friend." Ben had obviously hit a nerve, but was trying to navigate between that and the fit Sean had told him about.

"Sam doesn't lie on purpose. He does it because he's too stoned to know different." Levi looked away, staring at the wall now. "I think it's a form of denial so he doesn't accept he sucks at being undead."

"We're talking about Evan. Did you tell him how you feel?"

"No."

"And he didn't feel the same way?"

"No!"

"Then will you tell me what happened? The police said he died around five. You didn't come back to the school until ten." Ben's voice was soft, apologetic. Levi was doing himself no favors, and it wasn't just Dr. Xu and Dr. Neville outside. The man who had been introduced as the Chief of Security was too.

"The wrong people keep dieing."

"People? Who else, Levi?"

"Mr. Underwood. And Lala. She was nice, but you can't have just one."

"Who are they?" Ben asked, but Levi stopped answering.

*****

Outside, Dr. Neville finally put it together. A team was dispatched to the M.S.A.D. compound, but all they really had to do was recover the bodies.

Levi had good teachers, after all.

[Samuel Rixon]

55. Addict

There were many places Samuel Rixon was banned from within Hammel. One of the first places he’d been banned from was where he was currently playing ninja. He had a plan. After securing Vincent’s attention with far more cupcakes than was healthy (thank you, Ember and Emma), Sam had ventured out to get the last person he needed.

Because, seriously, this was getting out of hand.

He scampered along a row of shelves, trying his best to stay ninja. If one the library aides caught him, he’d be kicked out before he had a chance to complete his mission, and then the whole plan was dead in the water.

Somehow, he managed to avoid anyone that might realize he wasn’t supposed to be there. Grinning to himself, he pulled a plastic object from his hoodie pocket and leaped into the librarian’s office.

The look he received was enough to tell him it would be a good idea to leave. Now. Eli didn’t have to say a word. But it wasn’t going to work. Sam just smirked and waved the pink plastic water gun he’d borrowed from Gerri. “C’mon, Eli! I got something to show you!” Eli sighed, glancing up from his book.

“Samuel, you are banned from the library. I’d suggest you leave, now, before I have to call security and have you removed.” The look on Sam’s face indicated either he didn’t understand, or he didn’t care. Eli honestly wasn’t sure which was the better bet. Possibly both.

“Aw, c’mon! Don’t be like that!” He aimed the squirt gun. “Just for a second! Or I’ll... I’ll... squirt you!” Eli just arched an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t try that, if I were you.” Sam twitched, looking torn. He needed Eli to cooperate. He’d been banking on the threat of the water gun being enough to secure his cooperation. Now he was mentally scrambling for ideas.

For whatever reason, those ideas stalled on one very, very stupid plan. He moved to Eli’s side and took hold of his hand, tugging him up and out of his chair. “C’mon c’mon c’mon! It’s important!” Much as Eli wanted to resist, he found himself unwillingly trailing behind the teenager.

“Samuel, if this is one of you games with Vincent...”

“Nuh uh! It’s not!” Sam kept moving, tugging Eli into the student lounge. Across the door, he’d already taped up some bright yellow Caution tape, as well as a sign, which Eli glanced briefly at before the door was slammed shut behind them.

“CLOSED 4 PRIVATE INERVENTION”

... Eli was going to kill them.

Vincent was lounging sideways on one of the chairs, frosting from the cupcakes all over his fingers. But the moment he saw Eli, he sat up and squealed in a gleeful manner. “’S FUCKIN’ ELI!” Eli winced, both at the volume, and the sentiment.

“Whatever you two are up to, I’d like it to end. Preferably now.” While Eli couldn’t truthfully say he didn’t have time for this, he didn’t want to be exposed to their idiocy any longer. Vincent leaped off of the chair, bouncing eagerly.

“Charmander stuck m’ in here w’th CUPCAKES an’ said t’ stay put. S’ I FUCKIN’ ATE ‘EM ALL!” He wiggled his icing covered fingers at Sam, looking devious. Sam rolled his eyes and looked between the two of them.

“We gotta talk about something SERIOUS. Shut up, Manson.” Sam drew out the water gun and pointed it at him. “Or I’ll shoot y’ in your ugly face.” Apparently, the gun was threatening enough to make Vincent shut –

“DUDE! Y’ gotta TRY IT!” Sam glared at Vincent.

“LATER. WE GOTTA TALK FIRST.”

“TALKIN’S BORIN’!”

Eli’s patience was quickly thinning. “Samuel. Vincent. If this doesn’t have a point, I am going back to my office.” Both boys looked at him in surprise, before Sam started flailing.

“No! No no no no no no! You gotta stay! It’s IMPORTANT!” Sam tugged Eli down so that he was sitting on one of the couches. Without being told, Vincent flopped beside him, his head on Eli’s shoulder. The librarian twitched, looking distinctly uncomfortable, but trying to reason with the goth boy was like trying to reason with a wall. He wouldn’t move.

Sam attempted to look serious, crossing his arms. And Eli realized that for the first time since he’d come to known the pyrokinetic, he didn’t actually reek of marijuana. “All right. What do you want to talk about?”

“That.” Sam pointed to the fact that Vincent was happily snuggled against the librarian. “Eli, we got a problem.” Eli followed his gesture. Honestly, he couldn’t agree more, but he wasn’t about to say that. “SO. This is an inervention.”

“Intervention,” Eli automatically corrected.

“Yeah, what he said,” Vincent chimed in, perfectly content to snuggle. Sam rolled his eyes. If this was how they were going to play, they were never going to finish this.

“Whatever! We got a problem!” Sam looked directly at Eli. “Dude, I know Vin’s like... well, he thinks he’s sexy. But you’re supposed to be smart! You’re not s’pposed to fall for his stupid face!” Looking somewhat pleading, Sam got on his knees in front of Eli. “I know y’ addicted to him. BUT I CAN HELP! I can show you he’s stupid and ugly and evil.”

... Somewhere along the line, Eli had completely lost Sam’s train of thought. He startled by the sudden close proximity of the pyrokinetic, but more worrisome was what he was saying now. It was a struggle not to start laughing.

Vincent, on the other hand, sat bolt upright, looking accusingly at Sam. “He’s ALLOWED t’ b’ addicted t’ me! ‘m SEXY!” He pulled the only thing his slow mind could think of. He threw one of the cushions at his best friend/enemy, then leapt off the couch to pin him to the ground. “SAY ‘t! SAY ‘M SEXY!”

Eli saw his chance to escape, and he didn’t stop to think about it. With the boys wrestling, he left the lounge, quietly alerting Sean to the brewing scuffle. Once he was securely back in his office (with the door shut this time), he pulled up his email and drafted a quick message.

To: [e-mail]
From: [e-mail]
Subject: Interventions

Hi Mii,

Remind me to tell you why interventions are best left to professionals when I get home.

Give Tory a hug for me.

- Eli

[Evan Brackett]

60. Peace

Eerie silence was broken as a car pulled into the gravel parking lot. It's occupants, a man and a woman, stepped out slowly, taking in the chilled Vermont air before venturing further down the gravel path. "Jeff, what are we doing here? I thought we were going to go straight to your parent's place from the hotel," the woman complained as she pulled her trench coat tighter around herself.

"There's something I need to show you first," the man informed her. He diverged off the path and onto the grass. "Long time no see, Evan." The greeting was muttered under his breath as he sat down.

The woman, now trying to tame her hair in a ponytail, came to stand next to him. "Who's...?" The question caught in her throat as she looked over the tombstone. She stared at the name for a moment before quietly saying, "You've never mentioned this before."

"He would have been 30 now," Jeff commented with a bitter laugh.

She sat down and put her hand on his shoulder before responding, "I'm sorry."

He just shook his head. "It's okay, Shannon. I hardly knew him anyway. I was eleven when he died, and even then I barely ever saw him. He went to Hammel. You've been there. You know how it is." Shannon nodded. "My parents still have pictures of him on the walls. Our last family photo, his last school photo...Mom's still kinda touchy about it, but she always kept those up. Anyway, I figured it was better to show you this first so you'd understand. Who the other kid was, I mean."

"What happened to him?"

"Murdered," he said flatly. "People said it was his best friend that did it. They never could prove it, but...I don't know. I never met the guy, but David went to the trial. He said the kid was a total whack job. Murdered a bunch of other people too," Jeff ran his hand over the top of the tombstone. "I still don't understand why he'd befriend someone like that. David always thought our brother was too nice for his own good. I guess he was right."

For a while they sat in silence, nothing but the breeze to disturb them. After what seem like forever, Jeffery stood up and cleared his throat. "Mom's expecting us. We should probably go." He held out his hand to help his girlfriend up.

"Yeah." Shannon planted a light kiss on the head of the tombstone before taking the offered hand. "Rest in peace, Evan."

[Esme Bakus]

26. Foreign

(Sight Canon for Esme's time in Japan)

Esme has been expecting to encounter some different things in Japan. It was a foreign country after all, and she’d been quite excited to get the job, but she’d forgotten that different must extend to food as well. The researcher had been so excited that she’d even been invited out to lunch that she’d forgotten to mention there were just some things she didn’t eat.

Her eyes were cemented open, glassy with shock, and probably larger than the buxom cartoon characters she’d grown accustomed to peering at her from stores and advertisements. She could barely convince herself to swallow properly until her co-worker leaned over to her and whispered in heavily accented English.

“Esme? What’s wrong?”

Another chimed in, in the native language.

“Are you alright? You look sick.”

Esme could practically feel the vague disdain rolling off her knew coworkers. Thoughts of ‘I knew she couldn’t handle this’ or ‘Americans are so predictable’ must have been running through their minds. She just knew it. She’d only been overseas a month and she was already the ugly American.

“Esme?”

“I…I’m f-fine.” She stammered in the best Japanese she could muster. Clearing her throat and adjusting tensely in her seat. One of her coworkers, Makiko-- the one who’d spoken to her in English, finally caught on. Swiftly she clapped a hand over her mouth.
She rounded on the man who’d ordered for Esme. “Junichi! You royal idiot! How could you feed her this?! Is this a joke?!”

“Makiko really I--- Its okay. I was just--“

“What did I do?” The man asked helplessly, cowering under Makiko’s rage.
Makiko flicked her bangs from her face and shook her head, drawing Esme’s plate away from her.

“….I just…I don’t eat Octopus.” Esme explained sheepishly.

There was a moment of pause, where Junichi stared at her with the same expression she must have given her plate. Shock, horror, and absolute social terror.

Esme chewed her cheek, gave a sheepish smile, and then broke into laughter.

The table followed suit, and for the first time, she didn’t feel foreign.

[Levi Xu]

22. Conclusion

"I have spoken to the boy at length, your honor, and have done a full psychiatric and psychic analysis."

"And in your professional opinion?"

"He is not fit to stand trial. Putting him on the stand once was wrong, don't do that to him again."

"Don't do that to... My clients want to know what happened to their son. Evan Brackett is the victim here, not that boy."

"Your honor, he's already confessed to most of the crimes, enough for him to be institutionalized for the rest of his life."

"Didn't he fire you for trying to plea out before?"

"His father hired me to defend him, and I am going to. Look, the boy is obviously disturbed, and he confessed seven murders. Don't put him on trial for the eighth."

"His fingerprints are on the gun."

"So are Jane Doe #3's. He admitted to killing seven people, if he had killed Evan, why wouldn't he confess to that too?"

"He had his blood all over his shirt. He has said why he didn't call the police. If someone else shot him, Levi would have seen it happen. But he won't talk about that."

"When asked why he cut off John Doe #2's arm, he said 'Because he didn't have one before and it wasn't supposed to be there.' He thinks Evan Brackett was Spider-Man and his older sister is a witch who goes to Hogwarts. He is delusional, and if he was eighteen, he'd probably be diagnosed as psychotic."

"And you're an expert in that now, counselor?"

"Your honor, I am an expert, and he's right. This boy cannot aid his own defense, but he does have lucid moments, during which he has admitted to seven murders. He will not be leaving an institution for the rest of his life. He is aware of this."

"He is aware of this and yet shows no remorse, for the murders he committed. For Evan, he shows plenty."

"The boy is going to be put away, counselor. And from everything I see here and what I saw with his testimony, he is not fit to finish the trail."

"So I have to go back to Evan's parents and tell them their son will not receive justice?"

"Levi will spend the rest of his life in a maximum security state facility. He will be punished for what he did."

"Your honor..."

"I have made my decision, counselor."

[L.C. Milliner]

13. Curse

L.C.’s confidential List of 50 ways to piss off John Thornton.
1. Refuse to agree with him on anything.
2. Steal his hat.
3. Give him an abacus for his birthday.
4. Tell him you figured it would remind him of home.
5. Yell ‘Fitzgerald’ down a crowded hallway.
6. Whenever he calls out Americans for stupid things, glare and tell him at least they are smart enough to drive on the right side of the road.
7. Hold your nose up and follow him around.
8. Ruin his shirt with spikes.
9. Give a haughty British chuckle.
10. Call him Superman.
11. Talk to him in a horrible Cockney Accent.
12. When he tells you to switch, switch to a Scottish dialect.
13. Then Irish.
14. Give him tea.
15. Throw orange paint on him.
16. Join the Roller Derby.
17. Give him beef ramen. Act offended when he doesn’t eat it.
18. Throw darts at him.
19. Ask him repeatedly to crush a can on his head. Refuse to give up until he does.
20. Sing Beatles songs whenever he is around. Loudly.
21. ‘Wot?’
22. Adamantly argue that Britney Spears is by far greater than Chopin. Laugh after this is over and done.
23. Ask him if he’s cranky because he missed his ‘tea time’.
24. Whenever he is annoyed, yell ‘BLOODY ‘ELL’ at him and grin.
25. Ask him to do your math homework.
26. Have Vincent paint his room. Call it abstract.
27. Write random stupid philosophical quotes on his documents when he isn’t around.
28. Tell him that physical invulnerability didn’t do a thing for his teeth. (Run. Fast.)
29. Blast Lady Gaga.
30. Glitter can go a long way.
31. Be liberal with a glue stick and posters of scantily clad women.
32. And men.
33. Throw out the beef. Tell him it was spoiled.
34. When he’s lecturing, wait until he’s done, pause for a moment to let everything settle, and then ask him: ‘So. You haven’t been laid in a while, huh?’
35. After the rant resulting from that, reply to his flustered demeanor with: ‘I’ll take that as a no.’
36. Slather his shoes with dirt. Watch the hilarity that ensues.
37. Tell Vincent his middle name. Let him run wild.
38. Poke his back constantly.
39. When he asks why, tell him you’re searching the metal rod someone shoved up there.
40. Leave condoms on his desk as presents.
41. Curse. Frequently.
42. Give him a red cape for Christmas.
43. Any time he is driving, tell him he’s on the wrong side of the road. Laugh when he almost drifts into the left lane.
44. Argue that it is BAY-zil, not BAH-zil. Refuse to give up.
45. Tell him his tie isn’t straight. Swear to a deity of your choosing that it isn’t.
46. When he fixes it, grimace and tell him he made it worse.
47. She how many times you can get him to do it before her realizes what’s going on.
48. Give him crumpets.
49. ‘Wot’s that, Guvn’r?’
50. Hide Chinese food in his room, carton open. The smell will destroy him.

[Nathanael Lee]

27. Court

Looks like today's local headlines are a little more thrilling than normal. Reports say that eight, that's right folks eight, people have been murdered in Pilot Ridge. The names of the victims have yet to be released, but supposedly the police already have a suspect in custody. I'm personally surprised to hear this level of excitement coming out of the little town. What do you all think? You can call in to 100.1 the FEVR at *** to share your thoughts with me. The lines are now open.


Nathan's normally cool DJ demeanor quickly collapsed as he flicked the starting cue for the next playlist of songs. Eight murders?! What the hell were they thinking? That was just asking for trouble, and they had been sloppy about it too. He knew he left the compound for good reason. This just reinforced his decision. The Twins had taken things too far, someone had been caught doing their dirty work, and he had gotten out of there in time to get off scotch free.

------

More news on the Thursday's mass murder: Rumors have surfaced that the suspect is a teenager, a former student from the Hammel Institute. Such a shame what things kids get mixed up in these days. Do you think there is something wrong with the way the Institute runs things? I hear they've had a lot legal issues in the past with disgruntled parents. Just what is it that had these people up in arms? Could it possibly have something to do with this resent massacre? Let me know your opinions.


It had to of been Jesse. Of course it was Jesse. The little shit was messed up beyond belief, and he was probably just as loyal to the Twins as he was to Gabe. If he had done this...well, Nathan wouldn't be surprised in the least. Brat was going to get what was coming to him. Tough luck.

------

A memorial service is being held today at *** for one of the victim's of the Pilot Ridge Massacre. The local boy, Evan Brackett, had just turned seventeen. His roommate, Levi Xu, is currently in custody as the number one suspect of the murder. The fifteen-year-old boy from Washington has already confessed to the massacre of the other seven victims. The court date is set for next week. If you wish to send the Brackett family your condolences you may do so by going on our website at www.theFEVR.com/brackett. That's b-r-a-c-k-e-t-t. This song goes out to you, kid.


Nathan's face paled when he set down his headset. Seven other victims. The remaining operatives were dead, that was clear to him now. Levi...poor kid. Nate would have expected this sort of thing from an psycho like Jesse, not the other, more mild mannered child. But with everything M.S.A.D. had taught him, and after getting shipped off to a place like Hammel, Nate should have known that the pressure would make him snap. The DJ had no idea who this Evan kid had been, but it was too bad that he had been caught in the crossfire.

And Nathanael had been that close to getting his own grave.

[Chase Campbell]

66. Meek

There were a lot of things Chase Kilbourne knew he could be. Brave. Strong. Protective. When it came to his family, there was nothing he would not do. Up to and including die for them, if it came to that.

There were things he knew he was not. Timid. Weak. Cowardly.

But things had changed now.

Lying on Ginny’s bed, facing the wall, Chase was trying to ignore the pain creeping up his leg. He wanted this moment of lucid thought. They came few and far between now, and he knew he didn’t have the time to waste. If he didn’t continue to feign sleep, James would come in and give him the medication that knocked him for a loop. He didn’t want that. Not yet.

He didn’t like these feelings. He was scared. Scared for his family. For the students at Hammel. He was weak. He couldn’t protect himself. And he was a coward, for not facing up to what he’d done.

He was too afraid to face the murder. He was too afraid to use his own powers anymore. He’d killed someone, so easily, with his mind. It was done. It couldn’t be undone.

And now, whatever revenge MSAD might have been plotting, and Chase was useless. He wouldn’t use his power against another person. Even if he wasn’t injured. His vigilante days were over. He’d tried to protect his family, and look where that had gotten him. Broken bones, a concussion, and a worried husband. Worried son.

He screwed his eyes closed as he heard the footsteps in the hallway, too light to be Nikki. The gentle hand on his side gave him away, and he opened his eyes to look at his husband. He was holding some water, and the damned pill vial.

“It’s time, love.” Chase pulled himself up to a sitting position, taking the water and the vial. The fight was gone from him. He wouldn’t argue. Not this time. James took his silence as nothing more than an after effect from the previous dose. He smiled and stoked his husband’s cheek. “I love you, Chase.”

The trainer took the medication and handed back the water. “I love you too.”

The moment James left the room, Chase lay back down, staring at the wall again. In the moments he had before the medication kicked in, he had to wonder to himself. How can you love a murderer?

And then sleep took over. He didn’t fight it, either.

[Stella Pinyin]

Thanks to Jammers for letting me steal Zac,

30. Rough

Stella Rocklen, happy and loving wife to Mr Andrew Rocklen, always wore sunglasses. Since she had moved to Hong Kong and married one of Hong Kong’s top investment bankers, she was always seen with sunglasses. Dior had asked if they could supply exclusively; the Rocklen family were one of Hong Kong’s most media friendly couples. Stella had accepted, and she was often mentioned as one of Hong Kong’s most stylish women when she appeared at fundraisers on Andrew’s arm.

Always with sunglasses, though.

When asked, Andrew simply told the media that Stella’s eyesight had deteriorated and that she could not cope with the levels of light. Stella didn’t talk to journalists herself. She didn’t really talk to anyone anymore.

Stella’s hands were shaking as she poured boiling water into the glasses on the bench. It was white peach tea, Andrew’s favorite. He didn’t like green tea, said it was too cliche, so they didn’t buy it anymore. Once the glasses were almost full, and the tea was exact right shade, she pulled the ice tray from the freezer and emptied the ice cubes out then, taking a breath, she grasped a handful and dropped them into the glass.

Wincing as drops of hot water splashed over her hands, she jolted hard enough to almost tip the glasses over when Andrew slid into the kitchen and raised his eyebrows.

”It’s not hard, you could have done that correctly,” he smirked, the picked up the glass and sipped. Stella went to run her hands under the cold tap but he grasped one of her wrists. ”Wait a moment,” he said pleasantly, smiling. Slowly, Stella’s lips stretched into something that might have been a smile, once. ”Finish your tea, Stella.”

”Yes, Andrew,” she said quickly, taking her own glass and sipping. ”I didn’t expect you home for another few hours.”

Andrew smiled, and Stella was always surprised by what large teeth he had. ”Finished up early! Wanted to get home to my little woman.” He set his glass down and pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her neck. His lips were chapped, and Stella blushed and tried to pull back.

”Do you want me to start dinner?” she tried, ”I have a new recipe,”. The glass was still in her hand, she couldn’t drop it. The hand around her wrist tightened for a moment and Stella caught her breath, but then Andrew sighed ruefully and let go. He chuckled and shook his head, then ran his fingers through her hair gently.

”Thats my little mouse,” he said gently. ”Always looking after me.” The white haired girl ducked her head and put the glass down gratefully.

***

It was such a beautiful kitchen too. And he was so handsome. When her ‘uncle’ had set the match up, still stinging from ending it with LaRousse she’d agreed to meet him for dinner. So charming, so polite, but still sure enough on what he wanted.

Very sure. They were engaged in three weeks, married in four months, and they had moved to Hong Kong within half a year.

The first time he’d hit her, she’d been too surprised to react. They’d been fighting; Stella had wanted to start looking for a job, start studying again, do something other then wonder around the house like a ghost. Andrew had disagreed, and when she had finally told him he couldn’t tell her how to live, he’d slapped her hard enough to knock her down against the cabinets. For a moment, he’d paused and looked at his hand then at her. He’d held back, and they both knew it. With a disappointed sigh, he turned on his heel and walked away.

The next time he’d hit her, she hadn’t been surprised.

***

There were four saucepans bubbling on the high tech stove as Stella finished chopping up the spring onions. They were making her already sensitive eyes water, but Andrew was watching so she didn’t stop to wipe her vision clear. With a smoothness that spoke of familiarity, Stella started serving from the saucepans and finished the plates off with the spring onion. Grilled salmon steaks with marinated cucumber and carrot salad, rice, and soy and sesame sauce.

Setting the plates down carefully, Stella went quickly back into the kitchen and fetched the bottle of white wine from the fridge, filling her husband’s glass. She didn’t drink anymore. It wasn’t good for her. The white woman watched carefully as Andrew took a bite and struggled to hide how much he liked it. Once he’d nodded, she started on her own plate.

”So, I was hoping I could go shopping for groceries tomorrow?” Stella asked after a moment, looking up from her plate. Under the table cloth, her ankles were crossed as she tried to look relaxed. ”The, ah, the market is open and it’s supposed to be a nice day?”

Andrew chewed slowly, then reached over and picked up his wine glass and took a sip. Another pause. He didn’t like the idea; Stella could tell by the way the bottom of her stomach dropped out. Her hand tightened around her fork as the bleach white woman held her breath.

”Can’t just send the maid?” he asked in a tone that made it clear he wasn’t really asking, looking up and pinning her to her chair.

Stella swallowed and opened her mouth to start, then closed it again. Andrew smiled and took another mouthful, then started to talk about his day at work and his plan to bring a few business colleagues over for dinner so could she organize dinner but not make a fool of herself and flirt with his friends again.

”Andrew, I’d... I really don’t see why I can’t go out tomorrow,” Stella tried again, trying so hard to sound calm. ”It wont be for long, and it’s been over a week since I-”

Mr Rocklen set his glass down sharply. ”Fine, Stella. If it is so important for you to embarrass me and flounce around outside, do it.” He smiled thinly, rising to his feet. ”I’m not hungry any more,” he added, then picked up his plate and dropped it onto the wooden floor. The bone china shattered. It had been from the collection Stella had received for a wedding present from the Senior Mr LaRousse. ”Clean that up. And don’t make that again, it’s disgusting.”

His shoes cracked against the wood as Stella watched him head towards his study. He’d call for her later; she’d better clean up the mess quickly then. And it was the onions that were causing her eyes to well up as she scraped the leftovers into the bin and started rinsing the saucepans.

***


Hong Kong was sunny and hot, and Stella was glad of an excuse to hide behind her sunglasses and a long sleeved cotton over shirt. The air smelt of soya beans, fish balls and chilli, and Stella stopped at a fruit stand to sample the mangastines on offer.

”Stella!”

The woman started, dropping the purple fruit onto the concrete as she looked around wildly, her heart pumping like a bird in a cage.

”Stella! Glowworm!”

The bird stopped fluttering. ”Zac?” she asked, her voice hoarse with surprise. On cue, the egocentric billionaire grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, grinning widely. ”Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he added, his usual smirk settling on again. ”I’m only in town for a few days, and I didn’t know Causeway Bay was your hang out!” He slung an arm around his ex’s shoulder and hugged her close, not noticing it when she winced.

”Hello Zac,” Stella said quietly, tugging the brim of her hat down to hide her face, ”It’s so nice to see you,” her mouth tugged into a smile, or what she thought a smile was supposed to be now. They’d tried for friends again, and he’d come to her wedding but Stella hadn't heard from him in years. Andrew didn’t really like her talking to her ex boyfriend. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, he’d explained while splinting her little finger because it wasn’t bad enough for the hospital. It was just that it made him feel bad about himself and Stella didn’t want that, did she?

Zac, however, couldn’t see how wide Stella’s eyes were, and was chattering away about his father, and the company, and some other people from Hammel he’d run into, leading the terrified pale woman down between the stalls. ”Hey, look,” he said and grined down at her. It was like no time had passed and for a moment, Stella felt herself smile properly.

”A star. Just like you, glowworm.” Zac flipped a coin at the stall owner and passed the little silver pendant to the albino. She tucked it into her bag with a smile, not thinking about what Andrew would do if he saw that. Finally, Zac paused and looked down at her with a strange smile.

”So, Stella,” he asked slowly, finally stopping and facing the woman properly. ”How have you been? You stopped answering my emails like, two years ago, and your phone disconnected. I thought we were still friends,” he pouted, and while it was mostly for show, hurt showed in his eyes.

The white girl was struck dumb. People didn’t really understand what happened with her and Andrew, they didn’t understand that she could be stupid sometimes, that he worked hard and came home tired and she could be so dense.

So she shrugged and forced a laugh and said something about settling in. Zac smiled and rolled his eyes, but made her promise to see him for lunch the next day. He was painfully self aware, sure, but he’d dated the human firefly for almost two years, and even he could tell something was not right. Making an off topic remark about her sunglasses had made her blush, and it wasn’t the cute blush he remembered from high school either.

Stella hadn’t let him walk her home, and had jerked when he’d kissed her cheek in goodbye, but the little star stayed in her hand, the rough points cutting into her palm as she held onto it with all her might.

[Stella Pinyin]

31. Gentle

Stella was sitting in her armchair, stitching the sleeve of one of her shirts. The little silver star fit right in the hem, so she could feel it against her wrist, and trace it with her thumb. All covered up in black cotton, her little secret.

”That shirt looks ridicules on you,” Andrew said conversationally, flicking over the page of his newspaper. Stella looked up and nodded, but continued stitching.

”I said,” Andrew tried again, ”I really hate that shirt.”

”I know,” Stella said quietly, smiling to herself. All done. With care she clipped off the thread and pulled the shirt on over her dress. There, against her wrist. The edges were rough.

Setting about packing away her sewing kit, the albino looked up and said, nonchalant, ”I thought I’d look for a new dress tomorrow, for the Phoenix gala,”. Andrew’s eyebrows rose and she fought hard to keep her voice steady. ”I wouldn’t want to embarrass you like last time, wearing the same dress to two.”

Andrew paused for a moment, and nodded. Stella smiled and picked up her basket, heading to the cabinet it was kept on. ”Or you’re meeting that LaRousse behind my back,” he said pleasantly, not looking up from his paper. Like a rabbit in the headlights, Stella froze. How did he know?

”You must think I’m pretty stupid,” her husband laughed, setting aside his paper and standing up. She still hadn't moved, just stared at him as he grasped her shoulder. ”Do you think I’m stupid, Stella?”

”No, of course I d-” her words dissolved into a cry as he dug his fingers into the soft muscle. Her knees started to shake.

With a sigh, Andrew tossed her into the wall and she crumpled, trying to curl up to protect herself. ”Did you reall think I wouldn’t know?” he asked, then wound a hand in her long paper white hair and started dragging her down the hall as she screamed. ”Did you really think I wouldn’t find out, you little whore.” Finally, his jovial tone broke and he spat at her.

”I work myself to the bone to look after you, but I leave you alone for one second,” he punctuated his words with a kick to her stomach, ”One second, and you’re slutting it up for your old boytoy? I’m not enough for you?” Leaning down, he forced his hand between her legs even as she sobbed. ”Is that what this is about, Stella?”

”Don’t, please, I didn’t, I wont, I’m sorry,”

He paused, rough hands halting. ”I know you’re sorry, dove,” he said softly, stroking her face. Her cheekbone was already swelling, and she winced when he touched it. ”And I forgive you.” Grasping one of her hands he hauled her to her feet, keeping her upright as she swayed slightly. ”But can you do one thing for me?”

Stella nodded quickly. Of course she would.

”Just... wash yourself off. Get clean for me.” he said softly, holding her close as he turned on the tap in the shower and guided her in. Stella stood for a moment, confused, then shrank back as her skin started to burn. Andrew swung the door close and held it without trouble as his wife beat against the glass with white fists.

***

”Hey, Stella, over here!” Zac waved from the table, grinning. Stella tugged her hat down further and walked over slowly, wincing. Her usually white skin was patchy pink, her dress rasping against her like sandpaper. But Andrew had wanted her to tell Zac to leave her alone. He was waiting for her, in his car, just outside.

”You’re late, glowworm,” Zac chided, shaking his head. ”I had to order all by myself, do you kno-” He’d finally looked at her, properly looked at her. Quickly, he was on his feet and at her side. ”Hey, Stella, sit down,” he said with uncharacteristic gentleness. ”You look like you’re gonna pass out on me,” He grinned cheekily, ”I still make you weak kneed?”

Stella was swaying slightly, her fingers clutching at the star in her shirt sleeve. ”I need to, to talk to you,” she started, rasping, her hands shaking. Zac’s grin vanished in a moment and he helped her sit down, beckoning for water.

”What’s wrong?” he asked, passing her the glass as a waiter handed it to him. ”Hey, come on, you’re scaring me.”

Stella took a sip of water and lent to set the glass back on the table. The little star weighed on hte sleeve, tugging it down. The pair realized at the same time, and Stella went to tug her shirt up as Zac when to pull it down.

Her wrist was mottled purple and red, the raised bumps of an old burn slashing across her wrist. Stella’s eyes welled up. He’d know now. He’d know how she made Andrew make her so ugly by being stupid and useless. He’d know how lucky he was to have been free of her.

Zac was staring at her arm like he’d seen a ghost, and when his grip slipped Stella yanked it free and pulled her sleeve down, rising to her feet. ”I have to go,” she muttered, but Zac was in her way, eyes blazing as he caught her by the shoulders.

”Who?” He asked, watching as she trembled and bowed her head, already defeated. She’d grown a spine, to have someone stamp on it. But that wasn’t going to be allowed to continue.

Hiding behind a curtian of her hair, Stella shook her head. ”It’s, it’s not his fault,” she tried, looking up at her friend with desperation. ”It’s not, really! I’m just, I can be slow, and,”

He’d stopped listening. With an expression as dark as thunderclouds, Zac was pulling on his coat and, with the help of an arm around her waist, was guiding Stella outside. She tried to pull back, because Andrew would see, he’d see and he would be so disappointed in her.

”Rocklen,” Zac bellowed, the vocal chords of a lion adding a nice growl to the end, ”Your wife wants a divorce. Now, come out here so I can show you what the LaRousses think of men who hit their women.”

Despite the roars, the anger, his hand on her waist didn’t hurt. It was soft, promised care, gentle.

[Alexander McKenzie]

87. Past

This place was too white. Too clean. Even the happy, colourful paintings on the wall didn’t seem to help. They were a distraction, but that was it.

Nothing was helping distract the six year old boy, however. Not the nice nurses that played with him, not the scary doctor that had come in over an hour ago. Not the things his parents had brought from home. He missed them already, even though they had just stepped out to get something to eat. He felt cold and lonely. Curling up on the thin mattress, he bit down on his lip and fought back tears. He just wanted to go home. There had to have been a mistake. He wasn’t meant to be here. Only really sick people went to the hospital. He just had bruises. And a cold. He wasn’t sick enough to be here.

He lay quietly, until another nurse came in, holding a few tubes. She smiled sympathetically at him. “Hi, Alex. My name is Erin. We have to run another quick test, so I need just a little more blood, okay?” Alex stared at her, wide-eyed. The first time, his parents had been with him. His mother had held him while he’d cried. Now he was alone. But his mother had told him to be brave. Still biting his lip, he nodded slowly and sat up. He had to be brave. For his mommy.

He didn’t cry, this time. The nurse smiled and told him he was a brave boy, and give him a little hug, as well as a Spiderman band-aid. She made him feel better about this place.

At least until the results came back. Alex watched his parents cry at the big, long, scary words the doctor gave them, confused. He didn’t know what ‘Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia’ was, but it made his parents cry, and it sounded scary. He started to cry, too.

Alexander woke with a start, the sheets twisted around him. Beside him, Ann stirred and sat up, a gentle hand on her fiancé’s shoulder. “Alex? What’s wrong?”

He ran his fingers through his sleep mussed hair. He wasn’t six years old anymore. He was twenty two. He was an adult. He was too old for nightmares. “Nothing,” he said softly. “Just a bad dream.” He settled back down, Ann creeping over to rest her head on his shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Alex shook his head, twisting to drop a kiss to her forehead.

“No, it’s all right. Go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.” She smiled and nuzzled against his neck.

“Love you, Lexy.”

“I love you too, Ann.”

[Ann Hudgins]

11. Lifestyle

Ann McKenzie, age twenty-nine. Her hair was still pretty thick and messy, but she has long since mastered the use of a flat iron and could get her hair to behave when she needed it to. Her empathy, that had so long ago killed her slowly, was now something she was grateful to have. Her job as a power trainer came easy and she was very good at it. She was taking classes overnight and on the computer when she could to further her career and become a councilor, but there were three reason why it was taking her so long to get that degree.

1.) Alex McKenzie. Age thirty, the two of them have been inseparable since their senior year of high school. They attended college together-still very much an item, graduated, and then got married shortly after! Ann had giggled when her father escorted her down the isle because a certain Manne brother was making faces at her. The ceremony was short but sweet, and their kiss had gotten thunderous applause. Familiar faces dotted the crowd, like Dr. Sean Neville, and it was a perfect day. The next three years involved them settling into a life together in Pilot Ridge. Ann joined the Hammel staff as a Power trainer and Alex joined up with Threshold, a very familiar place to him, as a freelance artist while he still attended college to work towards his career in sciences.

2 & 3.) Scott and Tyler McKenzie. Age three. Who knew twins were in the future for the high school sweethearts? It had been a crazy shock for Ann when she realized she was pregnant (though they both agreed they could handle it), it had been a whole other ball field when the doctor told them there were two babies growing in there. Ann swelled up like a balloon, and had to take off work quite a bit because of sickness and an inability to keep her power in check. Who knew growing two human beings was hard work? After a difficult labor, the couple welcomed Scott and Tyler into the world. Ann decided it was more important to raise her babies than to keep her job (it was a hard decision, she loved her students) but she came into school from time to time to check up on them. The two brown haired, blue eyed babies weighed six pounds a piece. It was amazing how the little lady could handle such big babies, but Ann was glad they were healthy. Ann was, admittedly, extremely scared of raising a human, much less two, but with Alex and the help of her and his family they did pretty good. They'd just had a big party for their third birthday a few days ago that Ann was still picking up from.

~*~

"Maammmmeeee." The pattering of feet alerted her that she was no longer alone, she flipped her text book closed and turned in the office chair to see Tyler peeking his head around the doorway. It was true that the boys were identical, but Ann never had trouble telling the boys apart. It helped that they had their hair cut differently and they tended to put Tyler in green and Scott in blue.

"Yes, Treefrog?" Tyler liked to climb, you see, and Alex and Ann both coined the nickname for him. He grinned and disappeared for a minute before he stuck his head back around. When he saw that she was still looking he squealed and ran down the hallway. Ann grinned faintly and turned back to her text book.

Louder and more solid foot steps came down the hallway then. She turned in time to see her tattooed and pierced husband appear, a contented look on his face. "Hey Lexy." She grinned faintly as he turned her chair to face him straight on and kissed her forehead. "Long day?" She looked up at him, to see a nod.

"This guy wanted his entire back piece finished at once." Ann threaded her fingers in his and kissed both hands.

"Well it's done now. Just in time to help with dinner, too." She grinned as he pouted, but he liked cooking more than she did. And both of their kids voiced their disapproval of dinner when only Ann made it--even if they couldn't taste a difference. They liked seeing mommy and daddy argue like sillyheads about cooking.

"Didja get that essay done?" Alex asked as the two made their way down the hallway into the living room. Scott was making creations with Mr. Potato Head, and Tyler was running in a wide circle around their kitchen table. He certainly was the more adventurous of the two and was harder to get into bed.

"Almost. I am going to read over it again before I email it," Ann replied over her shoulder as she picked her way through the toys on the floor to make it into the kitchen. Alex gave her a look; they both knew it had been ready to send in this morning. Even after graduating College once, Ann was still scared she will flunk out, and didn't like to submit anything without being absolutely sure it was perfect. The two of them moved about the kitchen then, to look at what fixings they had to make dinner.

"Sandwichs?"

"SAMMICH!" Tyler zoomed in around them and Ann stooped down to pick him up. He squealed.

"Sammiches, eh?" Alex asked as he came over to them and tickled his belly.

"I wan a sammich tooo." The quieter Scott announced as he too joined his family in the kitchen. Alex picked him up and flipped him upside down, who erupted into giggles. "Yah! With peanut butter, and pickles!"

Ann and Alex exchanged a look. His taste buds were insane. He didn't understand that somethings just didn't go together. "Eewwwww." Tyler responded. "Pickles are icky. Icky icky icky." He started to sing it, after a while and Ann blew a raspberry onto his belly, he squealed and pushed at her face with his sticky fingers. Scott laughed and pointed, still upside down. Alex lifted him up, only to give him one of his own. Tyler cackled.

"Sammichs it is. Go pick up your toys. Both of yah." Ann pointed to both of them as she spoke and they nodded, so they were set on their feet and they both ran like the toddlers they were into the living room. They both knew they weren't putting pickles on Scott's sandwich.

[Shane Williams]

48. Hello

Hello

My destiny, my love, my life, my heart and my soul… hello

You sit across the room doing what it is that you love to do, hair falling gracefully on to your face before you reach back to tuck it behind your ear.

My chest tightens with the desire to be that hand that caresses your face to remove the offending hair, to be that hair with the chance to touch your very skin.

A breath escapes my lips as I release the bent up hope of your attention.

Startled you look up, your crystal eyes meet mine and a soft smile plays on the bare natural lips that are yours sending my mind into another frenzy of thoughts.

Blushing from your gaze I look down to the guitar in my lap and start to play. The notes mean not to me, the tones don’t touch my un-hearing ears, but I know they will move you… I hope they will move you. I know the song by words only, I know it by dots on paper but the rhythm that vibrates through my skin is what moves me.

I want to tell you all that I have in my mind, I want you to share what I hold in my heart, I want to spend my destiny with you and only you.

Across the room you stand and approach me, I fear looking up to find I’ve annoyed you, I hear your lips telling me to stop to cease my song of love for you.

As you kneel before me hands in your lap, eyes closed in a peaceful serenity, lips parted tenderly allowing words to escape, your body gently swaying to the tune.

Try as I may I can’t pull my attention from you, with passion bursting forth I let the notes pour stronger from my fingers. This song is for you and you alone even as the crowd around us gathers, silent eyes brimmed from curiosity. People join you upon the ground and you open your eyes to great them but your heart is mine and I know it is true.

Your eyes always return to mine a silent promise to devotion, a silent truth of heart.

The song comes to a close and I dread the moment the last note will be plucked by my fingers. Fear slowly grasps me; I am not enough for you. I am not as strong as the others, I am a broken person, I am a late bloomers, I am not as graceful as you, I am not as smart as you.

Notes of sad reflection come through as a tear builds on the edges of my lids ready to burst, closing to keep them still I lose sight of you and let the final note play clear.

You are my destiny, my love, my life, my heart and my soul… but I am not yours.

With trembling lips I smile upon you and take the greatest leap in my life to let a muted word form on them.

Hello beautiful stranger…