War

8 Years Later

"Alison," Alison's mother, Alice, called from the kitchen, scanning her eyes over a frail piece of paper.

"Yeah?" Alison herself asked. Her mother smiled weakly. How much Alison had grown since she was eight; she used to be small, with blonde hair and a dusting of freckles. Now, she had dark hair, and she had grown, lost her freckles to be replaced with a strip of natural blush.

"You are going to war." She felt her heart hammer in her chest and her pulse quicken.

"What?" Her voice is not her own; it is the voice of someone afraid, someone anxious. And that was not her. /

"You are going to war, Alison. I'm sorry." Her mind flashed back to when Hazell and her had been play-fighting on their lawn, and her parents warning her that war was dangerous, and that she could get hurt.

"I don't have any training. Or any weapons." She nods stiffly, her usual blue eyes turning a steely shade of grey. Her mom always had aged beauty, but when she was sad, it all dispersed into dust. Kind of like when a car window gets fogged up; her mom was not her clear, transparent self, she was only clear when someone cleared a picture up.

"I know... but, like your dad said, there's nothing we can do to stop it." All she could think about was Hazell, and her parents, and newborn brother, Joseph. What would he think when he heard the story of how his big sister died at the age of sixteen? She could feel tears sting behind her eyes, threatening to dribble down her cheeks.

But she put on a brave face, preventing the urge to gnaw on her lip to control her, and nodded.

All she could think about was her fear of blood - how it made her woozy and disgusted - and how she had managed to conceal it. Until now, where the battlefield was a blood bath.

"Who... who else is becoming a soldier?" Her mom reads the rest of the list.

"I think they chose randomly. Like drawing from a hat. But they ended up choosing Lillian Reed, Reese Felix, Max Tenger, Alex June, and Jessalyn Pell. And..." she trails off to stare at her mug of tea. She downs a bit of her tea before continuing, "Hazell Tearago." All Alison could do was stare, anger building up deep in the roots of her mind.

"What?" She could feel her jaw clenching and loosening. She nods, and walks away completely, probably not wanting to deal with her daughter's inexplicable sadness.

- - -

Hazell spoke to her mother in the makeshift-living room with joy. She'd always been one to look for the brightest, but it didn't always come in handy. "Mom, where's dad?" she finally asked, curiosity getting the best of her. Hazell's hair always hung like draped over her shoulders, down her back. It was one of her best features, her hair.

It was a dark, ash sort of color, but it grew lighter as it progressed, leaving the tips a dark brown. But she wasn't perfect. Only her hair seemed utterly perfect, and even it had tangles and knots that she had to comb out everyday.

"Arguing. With the Choosers," her mom says. Hazell knew vaguely who the Choosers were: they were the ones who chose the soldiers, because they didn't have enough.

"Why?" She knew there could only be one alternative response.

"Because you are going to war." Her mom seemed - under all means - calm, like her daughter wasn't about to be pulled into a world of blood, weapons, and enemies. She pulled her mouth into a tight smile, but Hazell wasn't in a smiling mood.

Just then the door swings open with a bang. "I'm so sorry, Haze. I couldn't-" he coughs, "get them to let you pass."

"Oh, dear Christ," her mother, April, breathes as she stares at him. His eyes are beaten black and blue, and his mouth is tinted red from the blood flowing from his nose. And marking his hand is a bullet-sized hole, one that had a strong resemblance to its name. A bullet.

From it steadily oozed blood. "Hazell, go get a cloth, and pain medication. Oh, you'll have to make some! I never got to stop in town," her mother said, and took her father, Austin's, hand. Her mom, called April, used to pain medication she knew best. "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hollowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses. As we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not in temptation, but deliver us from evil," she prayed, her eyes closed.

With his hand in her's, and her voice ringing in his ears, he began to feel serene. "Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus..." she continues, as Hazell throws a wet rag at her mom. April catches it with ease and presses it against his wound.

In their kitchen, Hazell is making the pain medication. A mix of chive, mint, water, and pepper makes the perfect imposer for brand-name medicine. Mixing it together and pressing it to make it a fluid, she pours it into a cup with another cup of water.

She brings it in with buckets of ice slinking down her back. Her dad slurps it down, dumping the water down his throat next, and proceeds praying. The Hail Mary and the Our Father are repeated. Together they pray, hoping he would heal, and hoping they would find a poser for bandages.

- - -

Hey guys. That mixture, by the way, IS NOT REAL. Don't try to use it for pain meds because it won't work. This chapter was written by me, Mae, and Aly wrote the first chapter. We hope you're enjoying the book.

~ Mae