Ania

Breathe in, breathe out.

Try not to stare too hard at Daddy; he might wake up. You never know.

Try not to draw attention to yourself, or the crowd of reporters will notice you: "Miss Greer, what happened?" "How's your father doing?" "The fans want to know if you'll take on Mr. Greer's career, like you were planning too.

If that happened, I would probably just break down.

And wouldn't that be terrific?

I feel Edge's hand on my shoulder, a warm caress that only makes it harder to hold in the tears. But I don't shrug him off; this is almost as hard on him as it is on me.

Daddy gave him his job, even though he was down on his luck and the youngest bodyguard I'd ever seen. And, in return, Edge had done everything he could for us.

Watching Daddy get hurt was terrible for him. If I wasn't so miserable, I would try to comfort Edge. I can tell he's holding it together for my sake.Because he's the only one I have left.

            Daddy shifts in his sleep. I watch as his face creases with discomfort; the bandage must be giving him problems again.

            I know I should be thankful that he's still alive. I know I should. But this man only seems like a shell of my father.

            The only thought that remains in my tear-washed mind is this- revenge.

            Cera. Will. Pay.

            She will pay for what she did.

With my every breath, I hate her. I hate her pale eyes, and unnaturally colored hair. I hate the way she'd wormed her way into my life, then ripped it all away.

Finally, I hear Edge say, "Come on, Miss Ania. Let's go home."

I want to fight, but I'm so exhausted, so empty, I just stand up and let him guide me through the reporters. Lights flash all around me, voices ringing in my ears, but I look as emotionless as a rock.

A rock that has just lost everything that matters to it.

But an emotionless rock nevertheless.

Oh, who am I kidding?

I climb into the waiting limo and cover my face with a coat. Maybe tomorrow's tabloids will say "Ania Greer Can't Adjust to Father's Injuries", but I don't really care.

            I just don't want them to see my mascara running.

           One of them will manage to get a picture of it, and that's the very last thing I need at the moment.

I collapse on my bed and close my eyes, ready to sleep, even if the nightmares come, but a rapping on the door keeps me awake.

            "Do you want me to get that, Miss Ania?" calls Edge.

"Isn't it just another bunch of reporters?" I yell back.

            There's a pause, then he hollers, "It's a boy.”

"A what?" I sit straight up. It's been awhile since a boy's come over. I dumped the last one months ago, made it public that I wasn't in the mood for a relationship. I hadn't been bothered for a long time. It had been wonderful. But now...

I slip into a cream-colored sundress and braid my hair around my head, then touch up my make-up before putting on my leather gladiator sandals and creeping down the stairs.

Edge is questioning someone I can't quite see. He turns and sees me. "Miss Ania, you might want to talk to this one." He steps aside and lets in the boy.

I blink.

He has dark curly hair and bright eyes; I can't quite decide what color they are, but they're... nice. He looks sort of Hispanic. He's tall and lean, wearing jeans and a gray t-shirt, with a leather jacket. There's a motorcycle helmet under his arm and a pair of sunglasses pushing back his hair.

Not bad.

What does he want from me, though?

We stare at each other for what seems like ages, before he clears his throat and says, "Miss Greer, it's a pleasure." His voice is strong and deep, even if he couldn't be much older than me.

"Who are you?" I blurt out, then blush at my rashness.

He doesn't seem to mind. "I'd love to tell you, but we might need someplace more... private." He glances around at the vast hall. "Is there anywhere quiet? Like a broom closet?"

Edge snorts, but manages to keep it together.

"Um, I don't know about the broom closet, but how does my father's office sound?"

His eyes light up. "That would be perfect."

I wonder if I'll regret letting him in, but I can't very well say "never mind" now, so instead I say, "My bodyguard will be coming with us, however."

"You don't trust me?"

"I've never seen you before today. Isn't the answer to that question obvious?"

"Touché." He heaves a dramatic sigh. "Alright, let's go to famous Mr. Greer's office."

            I turn and go up to Daddy's study, the boy behind me, Edge in the rear. The doors swing open at my touch, so I sit in the comfortable chair behind the mahogany desk. I have an urge to put my feet up on the desk, but I don't, for maturity's sake. The boy slides into a recliner, completely at ease in my father's huge office. Edge closes the door quietly and stands guard.

            Silence.

            I look at the boy awkwardly. "So."

            He smirks. "So?"

            "You never told me your name."

            "I didn't, did I?"

            I shook my head.

            He stood up and walked over to me, offering his hand. "Xeno. Fabian Xeno."

            I return his handshake. "That's an interesting name."

           "Yeah, my parents were kind of crazy."

            I laugh in spite of myself. "Did you need something, Mr. Xeno?" I ask him, with mock sincerity.

           "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."

           "Go right ahead and talk. I'm listening."

           "It's about your father."

           I tense.

           "I knew Tomas Greer very well. He told me what to do if there was an emergency; we can assume that this is an emergency, wouldn't you agree?"

           I said nothing.

           "Do you trust me, Miss Greer?" he asked once more, his bright eyes were calculating.

           "Of course not!" I exclaim, standing up. "Now, if I can be of no further service to you, Mr. Xeno, you would be very kind to leave."

           He rose slowly. "Well, would you like a ride on my bike?"

           I didn't expect that. "Um, no?"

           "Well, if you ever do, just let me know." He flashed a grin (nice teeth) and said, "I'll see you tomorrow. If you decide to trust me, we'll talk some more."

           And with that, the strange visitor left.

           I turned to Edge. "What was that all about?"

           He furrowed his eyebrows. "I... I can't tell you, Miss Ania."

           "Why not?!"

           "It's something your father was working on. He told me not to tell you. Ever."

Wren

The work was finally finished. Well, no, work is never finished. There's always more work. But the plowing was over. Thank heavens. No, I really can't thank heavens. Because I really have nothing to be thankful for. Well, maybe I do. Maybe. I'll think on that. Meanwhile I'll be planting seeds. Yes, it's time for education! Planting comes after plowing. Planting being on of the easiest parts of producing wheat.

I wiped the perspiration off of my forehead and bent down to dig another row for the seeds. It had taken me three days to finish one acre of land, so at the rate I'm going I'll be done in... 12 days... Kill. Me. Now. No, don't do that, Stella and her family might go hungry. Well go ahead and kill Wicken for all I care. No wait, then Stella would still starve. Okay. Something to be thankful for, I never thought I'd say this, but I am thankful for work, and... ugh, Wicken. Oh no, I think I'm dying.

" Hi!" Stella called, she practically danced over to me from their small mud house a few blocks away.

" Hi." I scowled.

" What's wrong?" She asked her face concerned.

" I'm mad at myself." I said honestly.

" What did you do?" She asked still looking concerned.

" I said I was mad. I didn't say I would tell you why!" I grimaced.

" Whatever... I brought my weaving!" she yelled excitedly.

I nodded and got back to my work.

" So, did you hear about Tomas Greer?" Stella said, trying to make conversation.

" Who's he?"

She stared at me shocked. I lifted my eyebrows as if to say " Sorry, I'm clueless".

" He's just about the most famous actor ever! Not that I've ever seen him act. But I read about him in the newspaper." She said excitedly.

" That would explain everything."


She laughed.

" STELLA! Get over here now!" Wicken's strong voice called.

" Coming!" She half sang back.

" Run!" He yelled fiercely. Concern in his voice. Stella and I exchanged glances and both sprinted off towards their house. Me faster than Stella.

I pushed through the door and into the one open room. Ms. Siedel stood there trying to put out the flame.

" Wren! Get water!" Stella said panicking. " You're the fastest runner go!" she yelled.

I sprinted down to the river. I had grabbed the two buckets from the side of the house on my way. I quickly filled the buckets and was on my way as fast as I could without spilling. From 300 feet away I could see flames. But not in the house, on the field, a field fire. It would destroy all of there 6 acres of wheat that was about to be harvested. I had to do something. I made a quick decision, and ran towards the fields sloshing water everywhere until all the flames were out. I then ran as fast as I could back to the river to get water for the house. When I got back the flames were mostly out. I threw buckets of water on everything. When every single flame was out I finally relaxed.

" Is everyone okay?" I called loudly barely able to see through the steam and smoke.

" Wren!" Stella shrieked. I followed her voice outside to the yard where Ms. Siedel was lying on the grass, a damp towel across her legs.

" What happened?!" I asked Stella kneeling quickly at Ms. Siedel's side.

"She's burned. Badly." Stella said snidely. Wicken rushed out of the house.

" How bad is it?" he asked urgently.

" Bad. Thanks to someone." Stella said angrily.

I glanced at Wicken puzzled. He scowled at me.

" What's going on?" my voice was strong. Stella's jaw tightened. " Tell me." I demanded.

" This wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for you!" Stella yelled outraged.

" Stella, Wren did the right thing. Her choice was logical." Ms. Siedel groaned weakly.

" No Mother! Her choice was selfish!" Stella shouted leaping up from her mothers side and storming away.

I sat there. Contemplating.

" So, this is about my choice." I said slowly. " I chose to save the crops, instead of you." It had just come to me. My decision was selfish. It wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for me.

" I am so sorry." I said sincerely. " I'm so sorry."

" Wren, don't give yourself a hard time. You made the right choice." Ms. Siedel began.

" No." I jumped up, my hands clenched into fists. " I didn't."

I locked eyes with Wicken, his face showed worry, and strife.

I took of running back to my house. Swallowing my tears. I had done that. I had made someone suffer because of my selfish actions. Anger boiled in my blood. I wasn't mad at Stella, or even Wicken. I was infuriated with myself and my reaction to the situation. I was so distraught I wouldn't even examine my choices . All I could think about was what I did, instead of what I should have done. I didn't even think twice about what I did. I merely did what I did, and it caused Ms. Siedel and the whole family pain and suffering.

That night I got an unexpected visitor...

" Wren. It's Wicken, open the door."

" No. I don't want to see you." I said bluntly.

" The feeling is mutual. Open the door."

" No, if you don't want to be here leave!"

I heard him sigh. His heavy yet graceful footsteps walking back to his own house.

I popped up quickly from my cot and came to the door. I don't know why. But I did.

" Wait!" I said opening the door. Wicken spun on his heels to look at me. His sandy blonde hair lying perfectly on his head. " What?"

" Mom wanted me to come see you. Re assure you you made the right decision." He said bluntly.

" Oh, well you're failing. I made a horribly wrong decision and Stella will hate me forever for it. I'm sure." I tried to put on a strong face, but with every attempt I ended up frowing and feeling even more miserable.

" Wren," Wicken began softly. " I agree with mom."

" Well you-"

He inturupted me. " Think about it. Mom may be burned and bed ridden for a couple of weeks, but if the fire had burned down all of our wheat, we would have starved. Not to mention the fire would have spread throughout the whole village. We wouldn't be able to give the Kal all the bread required and we would all have neen tortured and killed. Think about it."

It took a moment to let that sink in. Maybe I had made the right decision after all, regardless of how selfish it was.

I nodded. " Yeah, I guess you're right." My vivid accent making him stifle a smirk. He turned around and began walking back to their charred house.

" Oh yeah, and I'm sure Stella will get over it. I'll try to talk some sense into her for you." he said in a hurry and was gone.

I went back inside and had dinner. Bread.

I re-happed the day that night while laying in my cot, Wicken's talked had made me feel a little better... A little.

Raz

          Here’s a hint.

          If you ever have a suspicion that something wrong is going on around you, never keep asking an official what’s going on.

          I did.

          And I got in trouble.

          My big, puffy purple eye is enough to prove it.

          As we were walking back towards Ragglov, I got pretty ticked off when Ivan Crawly, the head hunting official, never replied. So I kept asking, and then I started yelling. Of course Evan was trying to shut me up.

          But this is me we’re talking about. Why would I listen?

          So I ended up with a black eye.

          It’s not the first time though.

        And I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.

          But Evan and his family don’t think so.

          “Here, put this on it.” Mrs. Rhys handed me a small piece of meat.

          I managed a weak smile, which turned into more of a grimace,” You’re joking right? You need to eat that…” I said, staring back at the eight pairs of eyes in front of me.

Evan has a big family, quite unlike me. I’m an only child, because my parents couldn’t exactly have more kids after my mom died, now could they? But  Evan’s got nine siblings: six boys, three girls. He’s the second oldest, and treats his brothers and sisters like his own children. His older brother, Burr, is newly married, and his wife’s also recently pregnant. The rest of his siblings are still too young to come out to hunt; the oldest is fourteen, and I seriously doubt if she’d be willing to hunt anyway. Abi’s just too sweet. But his brothers- it’s like he’s their superhero or something. To them, it’s like the world revolves around Evan, Burr and their Dad. It always makes me smile to see them run towards their dad when he comes home at the end of the day.

And that’s saying something, because if you haven’t noticed by now, my heart doesn’t just get fuzzy over anything.

But I wish I’d had a real family. Obviously, I never knew my mother, and even after all these years, I still don’t know my dad. I actually haven’t talked to him in a couple years. Not really.

“No, your eye needs something on it. Besides, this meat is about to go bad, it never got salted…” her voice faded.

Not everyone can afford salt for their meat. There’s a factory in the middle of town, what we call The Main, where we salt meat all day. But that meat goes to the Kal.

Yup. The Kal. Of course.

Never for us.

Heaven forbid that should happen.

“No, my eye is fine. It’s too late to be putting anything on it anyway. Plus,” I smiled at Andrew, Evan’s youngest brother,” I think it makes me look brave.”

“Of course it does. And you are brave. I wish I could hunt with you and Evan…” his small six year old hands reached down for the small bow and single arrow his father had made for him. It was his prized possession.

“You will soon.” Evan pulled him to his feet, and rushed him out the door,” But while you’re at it, you may as well practice.” He winked, and then reached his hand down to me. I took it, sighing in exasperation. We’d spent our free time trying to teach the younger ones in his family how to hunt for the last few weeks. And I was about sick of it. They’re sweet kids, but- well you know. They’re kids!

We went outside, breathing in the fresh air that was so non-existent in our house.

 We all live in a small, wood house. It’s one of hundreds around here, called a Bunch House. Where a “bunch” of people live. Yup, that’s why I thought they were called Bunch houses when I was little. But it’s not. I figured out it was named after the official who came up with the idea.

Curse him.

So anyway, we all live in these houses with a big number of families packed together with as many as we can possibly fit without suffocating ourselves.

And we practically do.

The only space I have here is my little blue mat that I lay on. Not much, but its home.

And this is where I met Evan when I was eight. My father and I moved to another Bunch house because the one we’d been living it became too cramped. Like seriously, there were people practically sleeping on top of each other. And since there were only two of us, the other people in the house thought it’d be best to let us and a couple other small families out, instead of separating large families.

Logical I suppose.

But it turns out; there wasn’t even enough room for two people in any of the Bunch Houses. So everyone who had been dumped out of number 12 Bunch House, got separated. I got sent to number 102 bunch house all the way across town, and my father to number 15 bunch house.

But it never really made a difference it my life, being separated from my father. We hadn’t really talked to each other anyway, and it’s no different now.

I sighed, breathing in more and more air, and looked back at my home since I was little. It was old, and the roof was rotting a little bit on the top. It was torture when it rained. The smell of wet bodies everywhere, along with the salt from meat, and the dried meat blood along the floor. Plus, it’s never cold here. Always hot. Winter here is like, in the 60’s. Perhaps a bit chilly. But warm nonetheless.

“So,” Evan’s voice was lowered, and he bent down a bit, trying to even up with me,” What do you thinks’ going on?”

…

Wait for it.

“…And don’t go ask an official, please.” He added.

I scowled, hiding a smile. I know him way too well.

“Never mind that.” I muttered,” I dunno what’s going on. But as long as the officials seem upset, I like it.”

“Why? When the officials are upset, they end up hitting us. Like they hit you.” His voice softened, even as he was whispering.

I sighed.

“That was my own fault. I was practically asking for it.” I admitted.

“But still…”

“Come on!” We both jumped, remembering we were supposed to be helping Andrew,” Let’s go! I wanna shoot somethin’” 

“ I think I’ll come,” Jon said, literally tripping out of the Bunch House, and started coughing,” it’s way too stuffy in there.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at him. He recently turned thirteen, and his voice was starting to mature. So it was constantly cracking and going up and down octaves at random. Right now, his voice was extremely low, so unfit for someone so skinny and food-deprived. With his red curly hair, long legs, and his new-found low voice, he was almost the split image of Evan.

He frowned as I laughed,” Stop.”

It cracked again.

I laughed harder.

“Aw, come off it Raz, cut him some slack.” Evan grabbed my shoulders and pushed me towards the general direction of the woods.

I relented, but only when we passed an official wondering around the streets. Looking around for people like us. We made sure to make a detour around him.

Technically, we’re not allowed in the woods unless it’s hunting hours. And that’s it. But plenty of us do anyway. I don’t think any of the officials know. Or at least the officials that care.

But we have to be careful, because other families have been found out before. And rule breaking results in beatings- and lots of times, death.

So we try hard to not get caught.

“I wanna shoot a rabbit and give it to mama.” Andrew said, hanging onto Evan’s arm.

“I don’t think we should shoot any animals today.” Evan hesitated,” We’ll just shoot a couple trees or something. To help with your aim.”

“But Mama’s hungry. She needs food. For the baby.”

We all froze.

“The what?!” Jon asked, his voice suddenly pitching high.

“I saw her today. She was crying outside and holding her belly. Like when she was still big with the unborn baby.” He was talking about the baby that died only a couple years ago.

I quickly did an improve, hoping that what he said wasn’t true;” She must have just had a stomach ache.”

I almost laughed. Yeah, that’s a good one, Raz. He’ll really believe that.

Evan just shot me a glance,” I dunno why she’d be pregnant. There’s already too many mouths to feed, Drew. That really wouldn’t be a smart thing to do-“ he stopped and blushed,” What I mean is Mama must just be feeling sick, like Raz said.”

          Andrew didn’t look like he believed us, but he just kept walking.

***

          “Good shot, Drew!” Evan’s comment was enough reward in itself. Andrew drew himself up proudly, displaying his arrow that had dug deep into the tree for something so small and pretty much useless.

          I often try not to tell him his bow and arrow is useless when he annoys me. Yeah, that’s how well I know this family. Their children are like my siblings, annoying-ness and all.

          I nodded, and then looked up into the sky,” It’s going to be dark soon. We need to head back before the officials come home for dinner.”

          The others quickly assented, and we started to make our way back through the familiar woods.

          Our town is pretty much just a square. And at each entrance of the town-there’s six in all- stands two Official’s houses. There are also two in the center of Ragglov. The officials at the entrances of the town are there to make sure we don’t try to escape or go hunting for our own meat. Our meat is ten percent of the kill. That’s that. But any way they do a pretty good job of guarding the place- mostly. But Evan and I found that the two officials keeping the south-east entrance usually were in The Main making sure that people were doing their job. So in the hour they were gone, we sometimes tried to make our way stealthily through the entrance and out to hunt extra game or to teach ourselves or his siblings to hunt more efficiently.

          So, you can imagine our surprise when we were sneaking through the shrubs, and we heard a shout.

A very angry shout.

          Apparently, someone had decided to come home early.

          Instinctively, I would’ve shot him.

          But, rather fortunately for me, I didn’t have it with me. Else ways I would’ve been punished far worse than I was going to be.

          He and a couple of his little ‘buddies’, ran after us as we tore through the streets trying to get away. Even though we knew we were in set trouble. There’s no getting out of this one.

          We raced through The Main, barrels of still unsalted meat, and walls hung with bows and arrows fell apart as we tripped past them. The officials were still hot on our tail, and soon more joined the chase.

          And they closed in and around us.

          The first blow. It hurt so badly. I felt my cheek swell, bursts of hot and cold emanating from it.

          They grabbed my arms, and knocked me against the ground, also knocking the wind out of me. I coughing, gasping for air, but just getting a mouthful of dirt. More shouts, more alarmed voices. I looked up and saw Evan, fighting against the several men packed around him, trying to get him down. But he was strong, even if he didn’t get as much to eat as them. I didn’t need to worry about him.

          But I started to worry when I didn’t see Andrew anywhere. I hope he’d gotten away. And Jon, where was he!?

          I looked up hearing a shriek. Jon’s bloody face met mine.

          I didn’t even have time to panic for him when I felt a kick aimed at my stomach. I curled, flinching as someone started beating me with something. I felt something wet fall down my back and my stomach.

Blood.

          Then I heard a voice, speaking over the loud gasps and yells of the people around us, too scared to really interfere,” This, is what happens when you disobey. We tell you over and over, it’s for your own good you stay within the town walls.”

          Curse that voice. Curse everything living.

          I tried holding in my shrieks, not wanting to seem vulnerable and weak. But I couldn’t let it in, and I felt like I was screaming harder than anyone. The beating- it never stopped. This couldn’t be happening. Not to me. My heart was going to stop soon, I knew it. I’d never live to see another day.

          But my heart really stopped when I heard the next voice. It was so small, yet so brave.

          “Let them go, or I’ll shoot you!”

          Me and Evan looked up, fear written on our faces.

          Andrew stood up on one of the roofs of the Bunch houses around us. His small bow and arrow pointed towards the head of head official. It would have been comical, had this not put his life in danger. And if it hadn’t been so sad that my world had come to this. A small child. Trying. Trying so hard to live with us.

          “Andrew, run! Let us go and run you stupid child!” I screamed, my voice rising and falling with emotion and pain. But I knew it was too late. Andrew wouldn’t be seen as a child. But as something that would grow, and turn into a threat one day.

          The official growled,” Such a young thing. Too bad it won't grow old.”

          And that’s when the most heart-piercing scream rent the air.

          My heart about broke into a million pieces, and I cried. Not because I hurt, and was being hurt. But because they’d found one of the few things that could really truly damage me. I wasn’t one to care much- but they’d found the one thing that I did care about.

          And that’s when I decided that the death of another hurts so much more than any physical pain ever could.

          And I blacked out

Kaydance

Ow! Stupid thorn. They're EVERYWHERE this time of the year! I straightened my hair and slipped my high heels back on, trying to look like I HADN'T just been to a crazy party where the building had blown up and then been chased by a couple a' criminals. And no I am not exaggerating, that really did just happen. 

"Kaydance Olivia Sewel!"

Oh gosh.

"Where have you been!?" My "baby-sitter" Thia asked, anger rising in her voice.

Help me please.

"We have looked everywhere!" She went on, not giving me time to answer.

"Oh no. No. No. No!" She put her hands on her hips. "You did not go with those Brownlee children again did you?!"

"Back off! Leave Scott, Luke, and Lili alone!" My own anger about to bubble over the top. Gee, being the Kal's daughter is HARD. 

Yes.

I said it, I'm the Kal's daughter, so awesome, yada yada yada...

I stormed past her, not taking a single glance backwards until I was safley in my locked room. Looking around at my cream colored walls, decorated with fashion posters, I thought about my day. After a quick shower and a change of clothes I went downstairs, grabbed a few cookies and hurried up to my room before I could get caught. Flumping onto my bed, I flipped the tv on. Ugh the News. I was just about to change channels when I heard my name. Oh crud,

"...Along with several others we saw our very own Kaydance fleeing the scene of the blown up building..."

Oh crud. Oh crud. Oh crud. If my dad saw this-

"KAYDANCE OLIVIA GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!!!!!" his voice boomed throughout the large house.

Well. lets go find out what would happen if my dad saw this.

"Yes, daddy?" I asked, playing sweet.

"I was just watching tv and-"

"I'm so sorry daddy! it just looked so fun and I couldn't help it!" I interrupted.

***

Nobody talked at dinner. I swear the air was so thick with tension that I coulda' cut it with a knife. I shoveled down my dinner, dying to get away from the strained silence between my dad and I. I looked down at my dinner, meat. I felt so.... uncomfortable eating it knowing that we took it from people who are probably sitting at their tables with nothing to eat. As you can tell, I don't often agree with my dads point of view on things. 

"May I be excused?"

"I suppose Kaydance, but you have barely eaten anything!" The housekeeper, Martha, sounded beaten with worry, "Are you okay?" 

"Toatally." I replied suavely

***

BRING BRING BRING

Eugh. Pulling my self out of a deep sleep, I clumsily reached for my phone and looked at the caller ID. It was my friend Esmerelda.

"Kay! Did you hear?!"

"Hear what?" I asked groggily.

"Tomas Greer got shot!"

Tomas Greer was like Esmerelda's FAVORITE actor.

"Oh no!" I said, trying not to feel fed up with all the Tomas Greer talks from her 24/7. "Alright well I need to get to sleep so see ya later."

"Ok!" She replied sounding heart-broken about the injury of her favorite actor.

 

I set down my phone ad fell into a deep, deep, sleep. And, unfortunately, deep sleep comes with strange dreams.

"No! Please!" pleaded a strange girl with brown hair and electric blue eyes. "It's not my fault! You have the wrong girl!" 

Then suddenly my dad came in the picture. The Kal, showing himself? Strange...  He laughed maniacally and said in a booming voice "You know not of the things you have caused! You will receive punishment!"

"Please! It wasn't me! I didn't do it!" The girl repeated, reduced to tears.

Suddenly the dream changed to a horrific scene. Screaming children ran for cover, rocks flew over head, people shouted angrily. I tried to make out what the problem was when the dream changed again. 

I was in my dads office. 

"This is unbelievable." My dad said astounded. "It cannot be."

"But it is sir!" Said the messenger daringly.

"How did it happen?" He asked, anger flashing in his eyes. "Nobody has ever dared revolt in my control!"

"A girl sir, a girl." The messenger said sadly. "Apparently those in control of her village hung her family. She started a revolt against cruel punishment."

"Thats all?" Asked The Kal.

"Yes, sir."

"Bring her to me"

***

"No! NO!!! Please! Please!!!!" Screamed the girl as the door of her cell shut, fading her screams.

"What must be done, must be done." Said my father. I had never seen him like this. He was always so nice to me. Did I not know him as well as I thought I did?

Ironically my dream changed to Language Arts class. Feeling the warm sun-rays on my face, I slowly pulled myself out of the dream.

I turned on the tv and the news blared "...Revolt sending hundreds hungry and homeless. One girl missing, Kaya, has brown hair and sharp features, if you see her please report. Rumors state that the Kal is angry..."


For some reason I didn't think that dream had been a real dream, and I was going find out why.

Ania

     I leap into the limo after my father, the crowd on our heels. Screams erupt from somewhere in the middle of the mob as gunfire rings through the air. The door slams shut behind me and the limo tears off.

     My dad has my face in his hands, his wild eyes focusing on mine. "Are you okay? Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

     I stare into his face, that famous face that was everywhere in the Village. "Daddy, what's going on?"

     He suddenly drops his hands into his lap and stares at the molded leather seat across from us. I'm used to his retreats into self, so I take stock of my looks.

     The gorgeous white dress I'm wearing is torn and smoking in places. The elegant bun of pale gold hair is hanging in chunks. I push back sweaty bangs and look at my reflection in the window. One earring is gone; I didn't remember losing it. The jade necklace had been torn from my neck, leaving red welts on my pale skin. My big, blue-green eyes have terror in them.

     This has never happened before.

     "Ania, you need to trust me," my father suddenly says. His voice is harsh. "You need to promise that you'll trust me, no matter what."

     "Daddy, you know I already do."

     "Those people were there to kill me. They will kill anybody who gets between me and them. Especially innocent little girls."

     "I'm not little anymore!"

     "Being fifteen means nothing to those assassins," he vehemently replied. "Do you promise to do whatever I tell you?"

      I can't stand his focused gaze, so I look down at my slender hands. "Yes, Daddy."

     He squeezes my shoulder. "We'll make it through this, Ania."

     Sure we will, Daddy.

     The limo screeches to a stop. We walk into the mansion, flanked by muscular mounds of flesh and heavy weaponry, also known as bodyguards. My dad's such a famous actor, he's entitled to such an entourage. Edge, the head of our protectors, salutes my father as we enter our home. Daddy turns to me and says, "Go up to your room and change. Clean up a little. Then we can talk to Cera."

     I can't contain my groan. "Cera?"

     "Ania..." Daddy's tone is dangerous.

     I sigh, then turn and walk up the stairs, entering the first door on the left.

     My large, silken-sheeted bed invites me, but I deny its comfort, turning to the bathroom instead. I peel off the once-beautiful gown and step into the shower.

     "Voice authorization?" asks the speakers.

     "Ania. I'd like the normal settings, but add massage jets," I say, then the hot water comes from everywhere at once, instantly soaking me.

     Ten minutes later, I step out, wrap up in a towel, and look at myself in the mirror.

     I look much better now.

     I move into my main bedroom, grabbing a remote and turning on some music. Old-fashioned rock. My favorite. I go to my spacious closet and begin searching for something to wear.

     I'm only doing these normal things to keep my mind off of what had happened a mere half hour before.

     The flashes of fire as my father stood to give his speech.

     The way the guard leaped in front of him, blocking the bullet with his own body.

     The pools of blood around the fallen corpse, his eyes glazed over, the pain still on his face.

     I shudder, blinking to keep the sudden tears from spilling over. I realize that I've gone through this rack already, so I grab a light pink blouse and frilly gray skirt and slip into them. I snatch a pair of silver sandals and sit down at my desk, where a huge mirror reflects everything in the room. I swipe on some mascara and eyeliner, along with some translucent eyeshadow, before standing up and looking myself over. As a last thought, I grab a daisy from its vase and stick it over my ear.

     You never know when or where the paparazzi will appear, and I like to be prepared.

     And yes, they've even broken into the mansion to get pictures of Tomas Greer, acclaimed actor and rumored favorite of the Kal himself.

     As I approach Daddy's study, I hear raised voices. I pause and listen, but I can't make out words through the thick oak door, so I slowly push it open.

     I should've just stayed in my room. It would have been safer.

     Maybe I should've jumped forward. It would've been the brave thing to do. But I'm not very brave.

     I could've wrestled the gun from her hands, or just grabbed the statuette from the table and whacked her with it.

     Instead, I can only watch with horror as my step-mother, Cera, shoots my father through the neck.

     I scream as he crumples, clutching at the wound. He's choking, gasping for breath as blood cascades down his shirt. Cera turns the gun on me and smiles, as if I'm amusing but completely expendable. "Why, Ania, we were just discussing what to do with you. Weren't we, Tomas?"

     All my father can do is gurgle through the gore.

     "What have you done?!" I cry, stricken.

     "Your father was directly disregarding the Kal's laws, and is part of the rebellion. Naturally, as an enforcer of the Kal, I put him out of the equation."

      I gape at her, her shock of bright red hair, her defined features, her heavy makeup. Her willingness to hurt.

     My legs find the ability to move again, and I run to my father's side. I kneel. "D-daddy?"

     He's stopped moving, barely breathing. He's making such terrible sounds as he struggles to stay alive.

     The sound of a gun cocking startles me out of my shock. I look up to see Edge, pistol aimed at Cera in his steady hands. "I've called an ambulance," he tells me.

     "Oh, just wonderful. Now he'll stay alive! Well, this is just peachy," Cera exclaims sarcastically. "You'll be doing him a favor if you just shoot him now, bodyguard."

      "Get out of here, Miss Ania, just go." Edge is moving in for the kill, his eyes focused on my step-mother as she moves around with ease, not even daunted by the impressive gun.

     "I can't leave him, Edge!" I say hysterically, lifting Daddy's head from the ground and onto my lap. Somewhere, I'm mourning the imminent loss of this outfit, but keeping my only family member alive seems more important at the moment.

     The wail of an ambulance comes from the distance.

     Cera smirks, no humor in her raised lips, and announces, "There will be a day when all resistance is killed, and the Kal will reign supreme!" She raises her arms, clad in her black silk gown, and her icy, colorless eyes glow as she disappears in a flash of crimson.

     "...will make a full recovery, but he's lost all function of speaking. The bullet hit his spinal cord, so he's paralyzed too. I'm sorry dear, but let's be glad he's alive."

     I can't hear the doctor. All I can do is stare at the once-handsome man who is barely my father anymore. Tomas Greer lies in a hospital bed with stitches from surgery and bandages forming their cocoon around his throat. I feel a hand on my shoulder, reminiscent of my father's grasp in the limo, but that feels like centuries ago. Edge's touch is briefly comforting, but I finally melt. Sobs wrack my body as I sink to the clean linoleum, overcome by grief and trauma. Something pricks my arm, and, despite everything, I begin to feel drowsy. My weeping ceases as Edge's strong arms encircle me. I just lie there, makeup running down my cheeks, intermingled with salty tears. I hear Edge's gruff voice, touched with sympathy, say, "It'll be okay, Miss Ania. It'll all work out."

     I want to tell him that it won't be okay, that it won't work out. That woman has ripped my daddy away, leaving me with the shattered remains of a great being. But I can't speak.

     I can't cry anymore tears; they've all been used already.

     I can't reach out to my father and tell him that I'm scared.

     I can't even stay awake.

     Finally, I sink into the blessed silence of a drugged sleep.