The Dark Side of the World (TDA)

*Chapter 11*

*Drives in on a go-cart* *Honks on horn* 

Wassup? Disclaimer: I own these characters and places about as much as I own this cart.

*Police car sirens in the distance* 

Ops. * Looks around nervously* *Speeds away from Police in go-cart*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now on with the story:

Once James leaves, I don't know exactly what to do. I go over to the closet, and pick out a couple pairs of clothes that seem like they're my size. I strip off my old clothes, which are still damp from the rain, and slip on some new ones. They're simple, just a tee-shirt and some sweatpants, but I already feel more at ease. I debate taking a shower, but for some reason feel a bit weird about it. So I don't.

After I'm done all that, I return to the bed to take a look at the things left from the box. The rest of the contents of the box is largely boring. Just a couple old photographs, some to scratched up to even make out. 

But one thing that catches my eye is a package. It's small and round, wrapped in silver papers with a small note attached. I pick it up carefully, and sit on the bed, the silver package in my lap. I turn over the small piece of paper and read it:

Livia, 

This is me stele, given to me by a friend many years ago. Take good care of it, and cary it with you always. It's the best weapon you have. 

Ps: If you don't know how to use it just ask somebody!

Mom

I read it over and over, trying to find some trace of my Mother in it, but find none. Gone is the simple fun woman who never took anything to seriously and could always find a way to cheer me up. Instead there's someone else, someone I don't know and can't explain.

I feel tears begin to fall down my face, and a flop back into the soft pillows. A sob escapes me, against my wishes, but not for the reasons you'd think. Not because I'm sad, though I am, and not even because I feel guilty, but because even in this castle with like fifty people, I've never felt so alone. Because Mom's not here and might never be, but I can't greave either. It just feels like I'm burying her before she's dead. And I can't do that.

So I just lay still, trying to shut the rest of the world out as I wait for the tears to stop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I must fall asleep, for however briefly, because when I wake up, the room is darker than before. The clock by the side of the bed reads 5:46, but that doesn't help much since I didn't see the time before I fell asleep. 

It takes me a long time, too long, to realize the other difference. The music. 

It's soft, so it must be coming from outside, but is definitely music. My Mother had never really been a fan, so music in our household was pretty limited. But like every other Mom out there, she did try and put me in various activities, one of them being piano lessons. It never did catch on, though and they only lasted about six months until . Still, it was obvious what instrument was being played. I listen to it for a minute, letting the beat of the soft melodies wash over me, when I feel an urge to see the music too.

I stand up, and make my way across the room to the door. When I pull the door, I glance up and down the hallways like a five year old about to steal a cookie from the cookie jar. I feel the need to sneak around, even though no one ever actually told me I couldn't go anywhere.