Dare to be truthful? Or be true to be daring?
Truthseekers are unlikeable people in this world. But they hold a likeableness only to themselves. They are at many the people in this world who you never knew existed. The wallflowers, outcasts, never even spoke a word when they were in class. You don't even know their name but they've been in your class for half the year already. And, somehow, you just know they were "smart" to the bone. They hold true to their title and their class is extraordinary to the skull of their brains that each answer holds a question. And each unknown question, holds a key to the unknown answer in the vast galaxy.
They are my enemies.
Darers keen to the fact that they are rebels. They fight, they will punch you, and they are noticeable as well as unnoticeable. They might as well be the bully or the "out there" kind of people. They are the people who are the smart-ass who are actually dumb, the flashy, the remembered, the clown, the one going against everything right. They will even go through promising danger just for pure adrenaline thrill.
I am one.
There was a loud crash then a bang, then, there was silence. Dreadful silence. I never understood why someone hated so much of silence at the dinner tables, or in conversations, or through any speech matters. They would say it was an "awkward silence". But this silence, was so painful, it felt like I was the one being stabbed. Like I was the one being shot at. Being punched to the skull. Bleeding. Profusely. On the ground, lying there, dying.
I had already tried, twice, to jump at the invaders but they swung their hand and swatted me away like I was nothing more than a fly. They looked like robbers. But their faces weren't even shielded, it was broad as daylight, and I can definitely see how they looked like, even if I didn't want to, they weren't even stealing anything. And, every time they swatted at me, it hurt, they were so much bigger and stronger than me, and I was so weight-less. I flew. And I couldn't, not once, do anything but lay there. Protected under the table, peeking through.
My mother was lying there, right beneath them, and she was bleeding. She was lying in a pool of blood. She mouthed to me, Stay there. Her mouth kept opening and closing like an almost dying fish, gasping for air.
I tried to keep quiet, but every once in a while, I would sniff. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't reach the phone because it was right behind the enemy. But it was worth a try, I slowly crawled to the phone.
"Hey, girl," one of the men crouches down at me stopping me from another inch toward the phone. "Stay there and you'll live. Call the police and you'll die, along with your parents."
He used a knife of some sort and pokes me with the handle.
I froze where I was. I can kind of hear my mother yelling and screaming not to hurt me, but the man backed off already. His eyes, they were dark as the night sky. He got back and went to my mother. I stayed quiet. I was too shocked and scared to say anything.
The piercing in my heart felt like a bullet penetrated through my skin. My chest felt painful. Tight. Everything was painful to look at. It was very tight to breathe anything.
The air was red, my parents were red, the invaders were red.
Everything was red.
Then, as if anything couldn't get any worse. It happened. Right then, everything seemed slow motion, except for me. Except for my living being. Like it was the feeling of watching a movie and I was the person watching the film.
There was a piercing bang that echoed to the ceiling. And then…It felt like I went deaf. I couldn't hear anything. And it hurt. Even the silence hurt without anything to fill. Not comforting. I just stared as the men shot them. My eyes wouldn't let myself even close them. I just had to continue to stare at them shoot down my parents.
And I couldn't do anything.
My whole body felt numb. That feeling when you want to move so badly, but you can't. Your body just locks itself up and feels like it has stopped working. And it feels like I need air. I need air so badly. Why isn't there a rewind button? Or a fast-forward one? Why is there always a play and stop one?
There was two shots. I counted. One shot for death, two for remembrance.
One for my mother.
One for my dad.
My hearing slightly came back.
"How about the girl?" I heard one of them ask.
"You think that's good? No evidence is needed."
"Her parents were our targets, learn to know that we don't kill more than the ones needed."
There was a silence again, they looked at my parents with pity. I wanted to do something about them. Then, they left out of our window and it somewhat lifted the heavy atmosphere penetrating everywhere and stuck to anything. I ran out of my hiding place beneath the tables. I ran to my parents. I didn't know why I ran to them when I felt so lost, but I did. I felt desperate, I felt like clinging onto anything else I had left.
They both laid there, bleeding. It was so much blood. So much blood…
My father looked as though he was covering for my mother of the bullets that were fired, trying to save at least one of them instead of none. He was already slipping away. His face a ghastly pale from his naturalness, and dressed with the men's blood or maybe his own as well. I touched his face gently as he closed his eyes, I still remember when we had a picnic and he was laid out and closed his eyes, trying to trick me that he was asleep, and he looked so peaceful, now it was more like fear.
He put his hand up and patted my head weakly, then it slid down and fell with the heavy weight of gravity. His eyes, closed, slowly. I leaned down and kissed his cool forehead, the only part of him not smeared in blood, "Good night, father."
I looked at his face and then, I departed him. I sobbed when I went over to my mother and she was still breathing. But heavily and deeply, gasping. She took my hand weakly from all her bleeding. She was slashed across her stomach, a long, deep gash, and a bullet wound was right near her beating heart. But she was hanging on, if only for a few minutes.
"Holly…you must go to the Master Clock. And when you get there, don't be scared, be as strong as you've always been, and if they ask who you are, tell them…tell them, you are Julia's daughter," she gasped for air. "Listen to them, they will at least provide you with food and shelter," she choked and pressed her hand deeper against her bullet wound.
"Y-yes, mother," I whispered, scared she was already slipping.
"And go. Right now. This instant, Holly. Go, right now. Just go, and never, ever, look back."
"Mommy…." I sobbed harder.
"Right now, Holly," even as she was gasping for a few breaths of air left, she still had that strong affectionate tone she always had whenever she called me for dinner to set up the table. Then, she was gone. Just like that. I put my hand on her eyes and closed them for her. Her mouth, was still opened, and it scared me that she still looked like she needed air. I wiped away my tears that had fallen on her.
"Good night, mommy," I whispered lastly. I kissed her cheek like she always liked as a reward.
I looked at our savaged house. It was blown through smithereens and bits. There was a huge hole at our front door where they blew a missile through to barge into our tiny house. There wasn't anything that was everything covered in dust.
I was scared.
I was afraid.
I was alone.
I was crying.
I was going to to that Master Clock right away. That's what my mother would've wanted, and her tone scared me, it made me tear away from them, even if I didn't want to.
I wiped the tears on my face away, even if more was waiting to a spew. I combed down my hair so if someone saw a young girl like me, they would think I was just lost, or wandering to meet my friends at some place. I put on the only of my mini cloaks that had survived. I used to love wearing them, but right now, it's just for the comfort of it.
Black for mourning.
And then, I just ran. I ran out of used to be front door, through the streets. I ran fearing of anything and everything at night. Of crying, of hooligans, of being founded, of just being where I was. I ran through blankets of darkness lit here and there by a dim lamppost or bright signs of night cafes or other things.
I feared everything and everyone that day.
I ran through the empty side walked streets until I saw the Master Clock standing proudly. Staring me down, and I didn't feel intimidated at all. Once was golden in light was shrouded by grayness in the dark and smeared and looked a bit blurry through by my tears. The large clock moving on and on. Chiming…Chiming… Then echoing through the night. It scared me. The way it just stood there, the way it, it just sat there, the way, it chimed there.
I pushed onto a door on the side of the clock for maybe the clock keeper or whoever to come--maybe. And it ate me with darkness. It was so dark that when a flashing lightning cut the sky, I saw a few faces, but maybe it was just one. It was too quick to look around.
"Shut the door," a deep voice rumbled through to my ears.
I did as the mysterious voice of maybe one of the faces commanded. The door creaked shut then before it completely closed, it banged shut quickly. Everything echoed in the Master Clock.
"Do you wish to be dead?" the same voice asked.
I pulled off my hood of my cloak and turned around, facing whoever it was. "No." Even if I did--I had a strand of hope, that my parents would want me to stay alive--at least, one of us did--and that they didn't die in vane.
"My, we got ourselves a brave one," someone quietly whispered, but I could hear it as clear as day.
"Do you wish to be dead?" he (at least the voice was low enough to be a man's) repeated.
"Never," I said, stronger.
"We will have to see," I could feel his doubt in the way he said it.
I felt like I had to move, that itching feeling that I had a few minutes before but couldn't do anything about it. I took six steps forward as it felt like. My eyes were beginning to readjust, very slowly. But I still could barely see who was in the clock tower, just smudges here and there, but no humanely shapes. I rub my eyes, but it didn't help, it just made me remember.
Then I stopped, fearing something would happen, maybe a trap door making me plunge. Maybe a dagger ready to pierce me. Maybe a gun aimed playfully cocked at my head. I knew how to sense something when I needed to.
There was a rustling noise and of faint movement in the air. I listened intently with my sharp ears. The movement was coming to me, I quickly dodged it. Whomever it was, the question was never really answered, it was to be shown.
A chuckling came from the man, "Well, she's got sharp ears too."
"Hmmm, she didn't do so bad but that was because that was me going easy on her," another voice, a boy's, a breath of exhaled air, it felt like two inches away from my face, so ever close.
Then I did what I felt was right, I dropped and swung my leg as the perfect move in where you want your opponent to fall to the ground. But only one around your size or smaller, or the amount of force you can swing with your leg. He instantly dropped to the ground with a growl of frustration and little of satisfaction. Now he doesn't need to be so easy on me. I was pretty small, and, guessing from the amount of force I put in, he must be around a little few inches above me.
"Begin." the dark voice stated simply.
I didn't know what was coming.
The person who was about to attack me, caught me off guard and struck me down and was on top of me. I kneed him in the stomach with my free leg, but it wasn't much of force. I was about to kick the person again, when they pulled me in a locked position with both his hands, one with a knifing nicking my thigh skin as the movement went on, and his knees locked my knees against each other. Then he moved the knife to his mouth, biting it on the side. He breathed into my face and I could feel his smile even without light. I had just enough time with his little smile, to grab his knife with one of my hands even when he was holding my wrists down. I put my knee where I could feel his neck was and aimed the knife, the end just barely touching his neck. A vein on his neck started pulsing, and a little beed of blood came up. But he was so much stronger than I was and I was not as experienced with fights, and I was too emotionally detached to feel the need to fight anything at all, even if, at the very moment, my life was put on the line for it. He banged me back down and it hurt, my back hurt from being thrown down. He held the knife inches from my face, I stared at the point of it, glaring down at me, and it shined brightly, it didn't even have a speck of blood on it. I can just feel his stare, I can just feel it, and I could feel a smirk too. It was too intense, not, to feel it.
It's one of those things you can just feel deep down.
"Lights," the man's voice commanded, booming just as a ray of lightning cracked the sky.
The loud flickering of switches started up as reviving were being sounded. Like a machine was being cranked up out of sleep. Sleeping Nightmare.
The lights were each bright as can be. I can't seem to remember how lights were ever so bright. Maybe it's because I've cried so much and seen so much darkness I can't seem to sustain in the light. Slowly my eyes adjusted easily to this as the more I adapted, it wasn't much of bright light. It just seemed as any new thing would.
The man was up on another level, leaning on a railing and smiling, grinning ear-to-ear, a ridiculous looking smile.
I think I've just landed myself in the crazy house.
He was gruff-y looking and can only be described as the most likely head of whatever this was. Whatever this was that mother sent me and trusted them to give me good and shelter. I doubt they will take care of me, coming from the fact that I most definitely could have been killed if it weren't for…for…those days that my father taught me about fighting.
Many people were peering over the railing and looked bored, to be frank. They were dirty and they looked like they didn't know what the word "shower" was. Their clothes were covered in dirt as well as most of their body. They had no shoes and none had any jewelry what so ever.
I miss home with the comforting fire, and the comfort of cushions and food and…and…it's all gone.
I look up and I see my opponent, smirking, clear as anything. My opponent was a boy of the heights of either fourteen to sixteen, just about my age at that time. His blonde hair a dirty brown color mixed in with it, some strands covering over a worn out tan eye patch, with one bright, blue eye showing. Staring at him, he didn't look all too scary. He was somewhat lean and somewhat sturdy. Though it might look like he's not going to be staying like that, because he's more on the sturdy side.
And, surprising enough, he was laughing, uncontrollably, on the ground. Looking childish and enjoying every ticking minute just had happened.
I grabbed the knife that he dropped while he was rolling around laughing and I curled myself together. I clutched the knife even as my hands grew whiter than white.
"Hahahahaha! Oh gosh! Did you all see that?" he managed to spew out through his laughing.
"I'm sure we did, Skye," a woman from the mist of the people up top, rolled her eyes and got up, taking her leave somewhere, wherever.
He just kept on laughing even as more people in the crowds up top started to role their eyes, "She is--she has to be with us! Did you see how she flipped me and, oh gosh!--she almost could've killed me!" then taking his attention off them, he reverted his eyes to me, still on the ground, his tone turning icy, "You could've killed me."
I just stood there clutching his knife. Then glancing once at his deliciously enjoyed attitude, I threw the knife back at him. I whispered, "That's yours."
"Heh?" he said, cupping his ears to define for better hearing, purposely.
"That damn knife is yours," I said in a louder voice.
"Damn right it is," he said smugly.
I can definitely see where he got rolled eyes at.
I looked solemnly at the window where there was the dark night sky at the very peak of the clock, you can see it. The sky was fitted with dark wondrous clouds floating in groups. It was dark time, but it was so lovely.
I feel trapped, condensed in this place, but there was no other choice.
I will make you proud, Mom, Dad. I know you don't want me to be at such a risk, but why did you send me here?
"What's your name?" the man asked above, no sprinkles and frosting coated anywhere, even if he might have known where I was from and what has happened to me.
And he might have not.
"Holly," my mouth moves on its own.
"Holly, please take your leave and not tell anyone what is inside here. If you do, you will be killed, understood?"
I just stood there with that pale face of mine, probably looking tired and probably having no energy to stand at all but I am. I have no idea why my parents sent me here, but I will stay.
I've got nothing to lose left.
He stood there for a moment then he had just enough of me. "Please take your leave," he repeated and turned around, getting ready to walk off.
I stood there thinking. This is it.
One that either I regret? or celebrate? moan? rejoice?
Which is it?
I absolutely have no clue.
I rubbed the space underneath my eyes and breathed in deeply, then letting it all out, "I am Holly Thalia and I am daughter of Julia and Jack Thalia."
"Excuse me?" he spun around and looked the most shock he had since seeing his composed face. He looked a totally different person and he didn't look so mean, more suspicious looking.
"My mother is name Julia and my father is name Jack," I rephrased.
"Well, then bring them to me."
"They are dead," I quickly rushed the words.
"Oh…then…" he said, thinking and processing everything, his face showed everything, "please leave. I think you are just making this up."
"W-W-Wait!" I exclaimed. "I don't have a home to sleep in, my parents are dead, and if I'm lying to you about their names, I don't know if you know, but I have no clue who has killed them. I have no proof to show you, but I have nothing else left. Do you want something to prove, fine, but don't ever say I was lying about my parents," I can't believe how much I wanted to stay here. "Please let me stay here."
He whirled at me. "Do you know, Holly, that if you aren't lying and if you get a privilege to stay here with us, your life will be in danger?"
"I'm not afraid to die," I simply said strongly, lifting my head. I meant what I said.
"Hmmph," he grunted and turned back around. "Then she's all yours Skye, don't even think about dragging the rest of us Darers behind."
Hope you liked it!