Hope

Breathing is hard. I’m numb, the world around me is blurred by a steady veil of tears. Over and over my body convulses with sobs, hiccuping sounds in the voice of the one who left. Zoe Campbell. Ezra.

I can’t think clearly. All I see is Ezra’s darkening expression before he turned away, walked out and killed Mr White.

Please leave.

I feel disgusting. My skin is crawling along muscle, sinew, and bone. Did I force him into this? Did he do it so I could live?

I’m the dark. I bring death and misery to those around me.

Not Dad. Ezra.

My body. My body. My body. My body.

My thumb and index finger find the soft skin on the inside of my forearm and pull. Not my body!

And then, suddenly, there’s a body behind me and there are hands, gently forcing my fingers apart, wrapping around the outsides of my hands, forcing them shut and the arms, still holding mine, wrap around me until not only they are hugging me, but I am, too.

But the wailing only gets louder. I don’t know why myself. Maybe it’s because it’s not Ezra who’s holding me but Emily – I’ve figured out that much with a slight turn of my head – but I can’t say for certain.

But Emily holds me anyway. She holds me tightly against herself, even though I have abandoned all tension in my upper torso, sagging against her. She doesn’t say anything, she’s simply there for me but that doesn’t fix anything. I just can’t appreciate this gesture.

And then I see movement in the yard outside and when I blink to see, it’s cars. One, black and expensive and two vans, and as I watch, the vans’ backdoors open and soldiers come out, guns and all. And that makes me want to laugh, because they’re so comically too late. They had months to act, and just like little children, they wait until it’s too late and then try to somehow turn back time. I hate them. Each and every one of them. And then I’m glad that they’re here, because now I no longer have to resent myself.

I stop crying then – I absolutely despise the idea of seeming weak before them – and lock eyes on the two men in suits coming up the stairs towards me.

At least they’re not wearing sunglasses at night. The hilarity would’ve probably given me a hysterical laughing fit right then.

But they don’t walk past us, like I expect them to. They don’t search for the teachers or the majority of students to check in on their well-being. One of them crouches before me and says, “Hope Brise?”

I just stare at him mutely, my cheeks still wet with tears and after a moment, he nods. Like he only asked for politeness’ sake.

“Atlas would like to have a chat with you. If you could please come with us?”

I don’t have the energy to put up a fight. Not even to talk. I move a little and Emily lets go of me and I get up. Immediately, I feel the cold in all the places where she’d protected me from it before. I’m unsteady on my feet and one of the men walks close to my side, one hand outstretched but not quite touching me, ready to catch me should I fall. Probably a good idea.

Emily doesn’t come with me and as I’m being guided into the backseat of the car, I realise that I did appreciate her presence and that I miss her already.

I don’t know how long the drive takes. I don’t think, don’t look out of the window. Just stare at the back of the headrest of our driver. At least I don’t start crying again and instead I enter a state of mute absence that could also be mistaken for calm.

We arrive and one of the men opens my door and I get out. We’re at Atlas HQ, a skyscraper at the centre of town. Everything they do takes place here. Research, marketing, management, everything. Or most of it, anyway. There are a few off-site locations, but nobody knows much about those.

The men lead me into the building, past at least a dozen guards who immediately close the doors behind us and lower the shutters.

I barely register it. Just follow the body before me into the lift and stare at my feet as we move upwards. Up and up and up until it stops and I’m led along a corridor with pristine white walls and blue carpet, until I’m standing in a small room with just a table and three chairs and one of the men tells me to sit and wait.

That finally does a great job of snapping me out of it and I glare at him. What’s this? An interrogation? Because this is my fault? No, I realise quickly. It’s because they think I know Ezra. They want to use me to get more info on… my best friend? Is he even still my friend? Should he still be my friend, now that I know that he killed at least one person in cold blood? Probably not. But that won’t change the fact that I still care.

No. We have a deal and I’ll bloody well make sure he sticks to it. Or try, I guess. I don’t know what his plan is with this. Whether he just wants to go rogue so he can kill criminals and thereby keep a lid on his pain. An independent group of wielders that solves the world’s real problems. Yeah, I’d be down to join that. Especially if it’d piss off Atlas.

Finally, I sit down in one of the two chairs across from the single chair that’s probably intended for me. Yeah, that’s how petty I’m feeling today. If they’re going to interrogate me, I’m going to make them fucking miserable about it.

As expected, it takes the door a little to open. Probably to wear me down a little before even going through the effort of asking questions. I spend the time pointedly ignoring the two cameras, staring at the wall across the room and tapping my foot. There’s a little dent in the wall and I have no clue how it could’ve gotten there. The wall seems sturdy. It must’ve been something hard.

The door opens and snaps me back into the moment. Two men enter. One looks like he’s in his early fifties, the other like he just graduated from whatever-the-fuck-you-need-to-study-to-get-employed-by-Atlas. Early to mid twenties.

Must be a tactic, that they’re two. To intimidate me? The bastards.

The younger gives me an odd look and takes the chair from next to me, carries it around the table and sits next to the old one. They don’t have anything with them to take notes. Somebody must be listening through the cameras.

Then the older one cocks his head a little and says, “How are you feeling, Ms Brise?”

What a stupid question.

“There’s a dent in your wall,” I say and point at it, holding his blank stare.

He turns and looks at it. “Oh,” he says then. “Never noticed it.”

I don’t care whether he’s telling the truth. I’m really bad at identifying liars and really, it doesn’t matter anyway, because now we’re no longer playing their game, but mine.

“The walls look sturdy. Must’ve been something hard hitting the wall with quite some force,” I muse. “And then the painter or whoever tried to fix it did a shitty job.”

The older one frowns a little, pauses, then shrugs. “So, how are you feeling?” he repeats.

I frown back at him, all innocent. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name. You know, since you already know mine, thought that’d only be fair.”

Must be a blunder of theirs to forget the introduction. So much for them being professionals. The night's events must’ve taken a toll on their mental.

The question hits bullseye. “Sorry. My name is Shaw and this is Mr Flannaghan.” Another pause. “To get back to my-”

“How many people are watching us through the cameras?” I interrupt him. “I don’t want to make a bad first impression and I didn’t have time to put on makeup and do my hair when the sound of the school being torn apart woke me up.” I’m lucky I even risked changing into proper clothes.

The younger one stares at me with narrowed eyes. “Why won’t you answer the question?” he asks irritably.

I drop the attitude and stare right back at him. “Stupid questions get stupid answers,” I say evenly.

The young one opens his mouth, probably to say something stupid, but the older one, Mr Shaw, puts his hand on his arm, signalling him to shut up.

“Ms Brise,” he says calmly. “What are you trying to achieve right now?”

I glare at him. “What are you trying to achieve? What is this? An interrogation?”

He raises his hand in a calming gesture. “We’re just trying to ask you a few questions. You’re not in trouble.”

I don’t have time for this. I need to go look for him. Knock some sense into that thick skull of his. Plead, if that’s what it takes.

“Oh?” I give him my sweetest smile. “I’m not? Thank you so much for clarifying. I would never have guessed with the whole get up. You know, the cameras, you guys outnumbering me, this room – What is it usually used for, if not for interrogations?”

Finally, the older one seems to realise what I’m doing and takes a deep breath, recomposing himself. “Ms Brise. About two hours ago, your friend, Ezra Campbell, killed your principal, Mr White. It is important that we learn about possible motives and places he could hide in, in order to assess the situation properly and not take rash actions. Do you understand?”

I can feel myself heat. Do they really think me that stupid? Like I don’t know what they did to him? Like I don’t know what they’d do to him, if only we’d let them?

“Don’t play dumb. You know perfectly well that killing him is the only route you’re going to take from here on out, after what you did to him,” I growl. “And you know just as well that I’m not going to help you do that. And even if I did. You can’t kill him. He’s too strong. You guys should’ve thought twice about submitting him to endless tortures.” At that point, I can’t help but give them a satisfied, short-lived smirk.

That finally seems to break the Flannaghan guy. He jumps up, catapulting his chair into the wall and hisses, “This is serious!”

I jump up too. I know I’m losing control but I can’t make myself care. “And you think I’m not? You want to know what he’s going to do?” I spread my arms, a mad grin spreading over my face. “I don’t know. But I damn well hope he’s going to come for you and I want to be there when you experience the pain he’s feeling every moment, the pain that I took from him for hours on end. And I promise you. You will understand. Right then, you’ll do anything to get rid of the pain and just like him, you won’t have a choice.”

The difference in their reactions is almost funny. The younger one goes all red in the face while the old one goes white as a sheet. The younger one wants to say something but can’t seem to find the words and then the older one takes him by the arm and they disappear through the door.

As the door slams behind them, I turn to the camera behind me and flip it off. Up yours! Then I sit back down and wait for them to return. I doubt they’ll just let me walk out. I doubt they’ll give me much of a choice in the end. There can’t be anybody controlling them after what they did to Ezra, so what’s the point in trying to go to the orderlies? Won’t keep me from fighting though. Already, I’m working on a strategy to drive them up the wall all over.

That, however, turns out to have been pointless. Because the next time the door opens, it isn’t them, but Elsa. And she doesn’t even come in properly. She just opens the door and leans against the frame, looking at me expectantly.

I frown. “What do you want?”

She shrugs. “To talk?” She enunciates it like it’s a question, then cocks her head in direction of the hallway. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask any… stupid questions.” A weak smile flashes across her lips. She looks tired. “I would like to tell you a few things you probably don’t know yet.”

Immediately, the sympathy I felt for her a moment ago dissipates. “Huh,” I say bitterly. “Funny how you think that you know so much more about the person I literally swapped bodies with.”

But Elsa isn’t swayed. “I was going to tell you about myself, actually. And about all the things that are going on around the city right now.”

Cautiously, I get up. “Why aren’t we going to talk in here? Won’t all your friends miss it, if we’re not on camera?”

“That’s the point.”

I frown again. I still don’t get it. What’s this supposed to be, her trying to make friends with me? I don’t trust her, no matter how nice she’s playing.

I still follow her, though. Around the corner and into… a lounge? She stops by the coffee machine, puts a cup in and presses a few buttons.

“Want a hot drink?” she asks then, looking up briefly. “It’s free.”

“Fuck off,” I say casually, scratching my nose. “You’re not bribing me with drinks.” It’s irking me how calm she remains in spite of all my rude remarks. It reminds me of somebody I definitely do not want to be reminded of right now.

Still, my words take no effect. She waits until the cup is full and holds it in my direction. “Sure you don’t want anything? You must be quite thirsty after having gone such a long time without drinking.”

And of course she’s right. Reluctantly, I take the cup from her. “What’s that?” I ask, staring down at the brown liquid.

“Hot chocolate,” she says. “My favourite. But I can make you something else if you want?”

I shake my head. Hot chocolate would’ve been my choice, too. The ceramic is comfortably hot against the insides of my hand and I carefully take a sip. It’s hot, just barely cold enough for the pain to be nice. I take another. The taste is sweet and heavy against my tongue. It lingers just right.

“So,” I say then. “Where’re we gonna talk? Here?”

She shrugs and returns my questioning look. “You tell me.”

I raise an eyebrow and she shrugs again. “Where do you want to talk?”

How would I know? “I’ve never been here before,” I tell her, a little less rude than before. Fuck, she really did bribe me with hot chocolate. “Just… some room that doesn’t have cameras in it?” It’s not like there’s any way I can be certain that there aren’t any hidden cameras or microphones. But if I have to talk to anyone here, I’m pretty sure Elsa is my favourite option. And the same goes for trust. Not like I’ll tell her anything important anyway.

Elsa nods, takes her cup out of the machine. “Okay. There’s a meeting room down the hall. It’s constructed for the upmost privacy, so obviously there aren’t any cameras.” She considers me for a moment. “If you choose to believe me.”

I glare at her. Fuck her for reading my thoughts. “Let’s go,” I grumble and she leads the way.

The room is large. There’s a table with about ten seats and a large screen at the head of the room. The floor is carpeted and there are plants in the corners, a few pictures on the wall. There are no windows. Privacy, right.

Elsa closes the door behind me and suddenly it’s eerily silent.

“Your name is Hope, right?” Elsa asks as she sits at the head of the table. I take the seat to her side, so we’re placed at a corner. Comfortable talking distance.

I nod. “Didn’t your buddies from behind the camera tell you that?”

Her face doesn’t move. “Just making sure.”

Pause.

“So, what is it you wanted to tell me?”

It takes Elsa just a second too long to react. She cocks her head weirdly, licks her lips, blinks a few times. Like she’s bracing herself against the words she’s about to say.

“It started a few weeks ago,” she says then. “We were on a mission to bust a nest. Nothing unusual about it, far as I could tell.” Her voice sounds calm, her speech regular. But her eyes aren’t meeting mine. “We entered the premises without resistance, but then Martin spotted somebody at the other side of the yard and went to investigate.” She swallows. Her eyes wander down to her folded hands, then back up to lose themselves in the pattern of the wooden table. “You probably know him as Zeus." Another pause. "The person turned out to be a speedster and he tried to shoot him. That itself wasn’t the problem, Buckler’s shields protected him, but when the speedster fled, Martin went after him. We lost radio on him but went after him, just in case and then we found him on the scrapyard by the woods, at the edge of the industrial area and… his eyes were all bloody and his body was severely damaged because he’d crashed. It took an autopsy to find out that there was a vine stuck in his throat, the roots had grown all over his lungs and the vine had blocked his airways.”

Why didn’t they make that public? To avoid a panic because the city’s strongest hero was assassinated? Now I feel like absolute trash for being so rude earlier. She must still be mourning and here she is anyway, trying to save the city and putting up with a brat like me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

She acknowledges my words merely with a short nod, then takes a deep breath before continuing. “We tried to find whoever killed him, of course, but couldn’t find anything about a wielder with enough power to take out a moving target by growing plants in their throat. And then, not much later, Buckler, Victor, and I went on another mission and ran into another ambush. There was a single guy waiting for us in a warehouse. He must’ve had help because the door closed behind us and the lights went out. We walked towards him, like we always do. And up until then it always works, because Buckler’s shields are strong, you know? I know you hate him, but without him, we’d never have become this successful.” Again, she pauses for a minute, scratches the back of her thumb as she swallows. There are tears building in her eyes.

“But as we approached, the guy – we’d seen him through infrared goggles – he just disappeared. And then a monster jumped out from the floor. Still humanoid but… he took Buckler out with a single bite and just… disappeared into the floor again. He almost got me, too. Would have gotten me had Viktor not tackled him away. He died so I could flee. And now here I am, barely a week later.”

She leans back and pulls up her shirt just far enough for me to catch a glimpse at a row of mean-looking scars tracing across her stomach.

She lets her shirt slip back down and smooths the fabric absently. “They must’ve planned this, taking out the strongest team of heroes and then attacking the school.”

I frown. “But aren’t there more heroes? Like, why did nobody come to help Mr White?” Not that that would’ve mattered. Ezra would’ve killed them all, so really, this was probably better, but it still makes me wonder.

“Yeah, there are. But they’d all been deployed to an Atlas facility just outside the city about half an hour earlier. The guy… the monster that killed Buckler and Viktor broke into the facility together with a speedster and a teleporter, killed most of the guards and freed a whole bunch of wielders from a secret high security prison. Those very wielders have been running rampage in the inner city since then. That’s why there are so many guards by the entrance. That’s why it took Atlas so long to respond to what happened at the school.”

“A secret prison for wielders?” I ask, cocking my head. That’s the weirdest part about this. That I’ve never heard of it before. That there even are places like that, after it was publicly announced that it’s too difficult to reliably keep wielders in check and therefore they had to be killed in combat situations.

Elsa nods. “Yeah, that’s what they told us, about an hour ago. And believe me, I reacted just like you did.”

“It’s what they told you?”

Another nod. “Exactly. After what’s been going on, that doesn’t seem all that trust worthy, does it now?”

I snort. “Funny that we’re even talking about trust at this point.”

She shrugs. “There will be investigations, of course. But right now nobody has the head for it. You know, with what seems like a civil war of wielders having broken out….”

So they’ll get away with it. Because of course they will, if they have that much time to tidy everything up.

“Talking of which. Why are you here and not… y’know, out there, fighting evil criminals so dangerous nobody ever knew about them and they had to be held in a secret prison?”

“Right now? On my own? That’s suicide. They’re literally cosplaying The Purge in the pedestrian zone. Several properly trained teams are deployed and already at least ten of our wielders have died. Whoever those people are, they’re strong. Probably nobody below five on the Atlas scale.” She pauses, remembering something. “Right, that’s-”

“I know what the Atlas scale is.” I interrupt her. “I’m an eight.”

She flinches, just barely. “Right, sorry. I forgot.”

“Stressful day, huh?”

“Tell me about it.”

Another pause ensues and she collects herself little before leaning forward and meeting my eyes.

“I don’t know what those people plan to do with your friend, but I doubt it’ll be good.”

Yeah right. So I should help Atlas instead, huh?

“What makes you think Atlas are the good ones in this story?” I ask her, frowning.

She must’ve been prepared for this exact question because the answer comes almost immediately.

“I don’t think it’s as easy as saying there’s a good side and an evil side. The truth is that Atlas wronged your friend in a terrible way and probably illegally contained wielders for an extended period of time. But the other side, the wielders that just got out of the facility have, to my knowledge, already caused twenty civilian casualties and thirty injuries. And I’m all for properly investigating Atlas, I really am. But that’ll have to wait until after this. We need them and they need us if we don’t want to lose the entire city. And we need you to figure out how to take Ezra out of the equation safely. Before he starts killing masses, because let’s be honest, he very likely can.”

I hate how easily she makes it sound like we’re on the same side.

For a long time I stare at her silently. He most definitely can kill several people at the same time. Three at least, probably more. He didn’t look like he was trying then.

“I should probably warn you that literally all I care about is getting him out of this alive. Preferably without letting any of you get your fingers on him because you’ll probably just execute him on the spot.”

She raises both hands in surrender. “You know what? I don’t care. At this point, I just want the killing to end and if he’s out of the way, he’s out of the way. Because right now, we have to treat him like a ticking bomb, no matter how we evaluate the morale of it all.”

So what now? She’s right, of course, but I still don’t want to give her any relevant information. I need to solve this on my own if I want to make sure he gets out safe.

And then another thought hits me. “What’s going to happen to the school if this goes on?”

There are students there. Lots of them. And only a few would stand a chance in combat. Most aren’t above level three, I’d guess.

“They’re being evacuated as we speak. Everybody who wants to help will be allowed to stay, apparently. The city’s under martial law right now.” Upon seeing the look on my face, she quickly adds, “I hate it just as much as you do. But I’m not the one making the decisions, unfortunately. Wielders from all around the city are going to join us in the next days to get this back under control, but the same will happen to the others, too, probably. One of the hotels nearby has been freed up so we have a place to set up camp.” She glances at her watch. “I could probably get one of the guards to bring you there, if you wanna. I can send somebody to get you some of your clothes. Right now, we only control a small perimeter around this building, so going out on your own is possibly dangerous.”

HA! Like that’ll keep me from sneaking out and meeting him. If he’ll talk to me. And if not, well, I guess then I’ll go around the city shouting his name until either he or somebody else finds me. But I’m going to talk to him. I need to talk to him. Before this is too far gone. Like it isn’t already.

But I nod anyway and we get up.

“So,” she says, her hand already on the door handle. “Can we count on your help?”

I shrug vaguely. “I’ll try to keep him safe, if that’s what you mean.”

She nods. “Yeah, that’s good enough for me.”

-

Barely ten minutes later, I’m standing by the reception of some huge, luxurious hotel. Of course, there is security personnel all over and I’d bet my ass at least half of them are wielders. But it’s not just them. There are familiar faces, too. Students from Atlas Academy. They’re huddled together in one large group. Nobody’s laughing, not even Hephaestos.

Emily’s the first to spot me. She briefly touches Will’s shoulder to get his attention and then comes to meet me halfway.

“Hey,” she says and it would probably seem normal if I didn’t know the way she usually acts. The crazy, cheerful glitter is missing from her eyes. “What did they want?”

She doesn’t stop at normal talking distance and instead comes closer and closer and then puts her arms around me.

“They asked about Ezra.”

“What did you tell them?” Will asks from behind her.

I look up to meet his eyes. “To fuck off, obviously. But then Elsa talked to me and told me about what’s currently going on. Did they tell you about the prison break?”

Will nods grimly. “Yup. And now we’re supposed to help.”

Emily sniffles against my shoulder. “We’re mostly here for you, of course.”

Slowly, the others are coming over too. It’s all of them. Maya, Hephaestos, Marcel, Aileen, even Maria is here. Niall and his crew are there too, but they’re holding back, staying with the older students. And then there’s Luca. Somehow, I’m not surprised he’s here. Clairvoyants must be really useful in wars, if they ever speak clearly. But he’s so young. A fifteen year old as a somewhat active participant in a war? That’s messed up.

“For me? But… why?” How’d they even know I was going to stay with Atlas?

“Because you might need help saving Ezra’s butt. Well, officially, we’re here because we’re overeager young heroes looking to make names for themselves saving the city.” He winks at me and my stomach flutters at the sight of a tiny, impish grin. In spite of the situation. And, of course, because they’re trying to help meof all people. That might have something to do with it, too.

Funny how I forgot they were friends with him too. Like me, they too saw his suffering. They saw the conflict in his eyes.

But they also saw him kill Mr White. And if they didn’t, they heard about it. “But… isn’t Ezra a villain to you?”

Hephaestos shrugs grimly. “Nothing’s black and white these days, is it now? And if there’s any way we can keep him from killing without having to kill him, too?” He shrugs again.

Right. Very pragmatic of them.

“You too?” I ask Maria. “Aren’t you, like, a pacifist or something?”

She shrugs. “Somebody’s got to play the voice of reason for you bunch of idiots, right?”

I give a short nod. “Let’s get to our rooms, then. Do we already know who’s going where?”

Emily lets go off me and grins. “I claimed a five bed room for us.” She points first at herself, then at Maya, at Aileen, Maria, and then me. “It’ll be like a school trip.”

Almost. Except for the war-part.

“Alright. Y’all can go ahead, I’ve got to get back to Atlas HQ and my things aren’t here yet anyw-”

“I’ve got your things,” Emily interrupts be. “Just threw most of your stuff in your suitcase and brought it.” She points.

Well, I still have to lose them somehow. Because it’s easier if I’m on my own. Less visibility, less of a threat. I know he won’t kill me and I know he’ll protect me to the best of his ability. The same doesn’t go for the others. And anyway, I don’t want them to be there when I talk to him.

“Could you bring it up for me? Text me the room number, I’ll join you later.”

“Okay.” She hands me a key card. “Be safe.” Like she knows what I’m planning to do. In all honesty, it’s probably not that hard to guess.

I take it with a small smile but halt, about to put it into my pocket. There are shouts behind me. I turn, there’s a tumult going on by the door. Somebody’s trying to get in and the guards are trying to keep them out. Then the door is opened just a little and a hoarse voice shouts, “HOPE! HOPE BRISE!”

I freeze and then my legs start moving without my wanting them to, towards the glass doors until I have the right angle to see what’s going on outside.

There’s a man there, trying desperately to fight his way past two guards who are holding him by the arms. He’s in his late fifties. The top of his head is mostly bald and what little hair he has is short and of a greyish black. As I come to a halt, familiar, green eyes lock with mine.

“Dad?”

He stops fighting and for a long moment, we just stand there. Staring at each other. The guards notice me and they must know me because one of them steps through the door and says, “This man wants to talk to you. Do you know him?”

Just slightly, I feel myself nod. “He was… is my father. It’s… complicated.”

But why now? I feel myself sway. I’m growing dizzy. Why now?

“Are you Hope?” Dad asks through the open door as the cold current that’s seeping into the entry hall moves my hair.

Again, I nod. “What do you want?”

Relief flares in his green eyes. “Thank God you’re fine. I heard something had happened and I… I just needed to know you’re fine.” He pauses. “Can we talk? I need to know you’re fine.”

Like it matters. Like he cares. Why now? Of all the times he could’ve come to talk. Of all the times I needed somebody.

When angsty little me told herself… himself that I was the reason Mum had died and it was better for Dad to be distant. When I’d just woken up in the hospital in a body that wasn’t even mine. When I’d heard that Ezra and I were destined to be the light and the dark. When Ezra’d just almost killed Niall and his friends. He could’ve helped me, for fuck’s sake! He should have!

Funny that I’m only realising it now. I never even thought about his absence because it was ‘better’ that way!

I want to puke.

And now that it’s already too late, here he is. And he wants to talk?

“Why now?” I whisper, my gaze hardening.

He really doesn’t look good upon closer inspection. His gaze is wild and his eyes are a little red. He hasn’t shaved in days.

“I… you… I,” he stammers, but before he can make it to a complete sentence, I interrupt him.

“Are you drunk?” There’s hostility in my voice now and I step into him and smell his breath. It reeks of alcohol. I cringe and back away.

“That was before I went to sleep, I… I’m clear right now. I really-” His speech is just a little slurred. It’s hard to spot unless you know what you’re looking for, but it’s there.

I shake my head and my stomach knots up with disappointment. Of course he’s drunk. How could he ever bear my presence in a sober state?

“Fuck you!” I hiss. “There were times when I need you, you know?” I hate how angry I am, how emotionally involved I am. I hate how much I care about the fact that he doesn’t.

“I know,” he pleads. “And I’m sorry! I want to make up for it, okay? You….” He halts, looks around like he’s only realising now where he is. “What are you even doing here? Isn’t this dangerous?”

And that’s the moment I snap. With a delicate crack, something inside of me breaks and suddenly, I’m laughing hysterically. All the emotion. All the fear, all the anger, all the tension unloads through my chest into my lungs. But the laughter doesn’t last long and even while I’m laughing, I know that there’s nothing funny about it.

“We’re about to fight a war, Dad,” I tell him then, my voice all sweet. Then I drop the attitude and my voice freezes over at the snap of a finger. “And you better get away. I wouldn’t want you to die because of me, too.”

Before he can react, I’ve pressed past him and I’m running down the street at top speed. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t care where I’m going, as long as it’s away from him. I’ve got more important things to do.