Forgot To Count

Prologue

Her knees, hugged tightly to her chest, were soaked. It was from the waterfalls that tumbled from her eyes; glid down her cheeks. The back of her throat ached, as it always did when she tried to keep her oceans of unbearable despair quiet and now especially, to avoid attracting attention. Trembling, - from fear as much as the cold - she wrapped her jumper tighter around herself.

     She knew she shouldn't be scared; she should have done this a long time ago and she would have saved lives. I was just a child, she tried to tell herself. Of course, nobody can lie to themselves. Even as a child she knew it was wrong. But back then, she had been thinking about herself, not how it would affect others. She rid herself of the life she didn't want but was left with the burden of the secrets.

     Above her, she could still hear cars flying past. She didn't intend to stay - not just under the bridge, but on earth - for much longer. Her watch read 11 p.m. and she had already been sat, shivering, under the bridge for 5 hours, willing it to fall so she could have an easy escape. Although, she knew that then she would die with even more responsibilities.

     A shiver rolled through her body, as she unwrapped her arms from around herself and started to unzip her old, battered rucksack. Ever since she was six, she had kept the bag with her, not once letting it out of sight or reach. It wasn't memories she kept it for; it was it's contents. She didn't allow anyone to touch the bag or see that she opened it, so for all they knew, the bag could've been empty. It wasn't. Every once in a while, when she was sure no one was looking, she would slip her hand inside the bag to feel the cool, silver metal and although she hadn't seen it since the first time she hid it in the bag, she remembered its form exactly.

     Before she reached into her bag, she sniffed and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes to stop the floods. She slid her hand into the ruined, ripped rucksack, like she had many times for eleven years, but this time, when her hands closed around the cylinder, she pulled it out of the bag. Guilt washed over her as she looked at the Laser in her hands.

     Hearing quick footsteps, her eyes darted away from the Laser and up to the path opposite her, which turned off from the bridge. She saw no one and assumed it was someone running over the bridge. Her attention turned back to the Laser. No one could see her do this. 

     Seeing no other way to free herself from her memories, she aimed the Laser at her forehead. She wondered how many other people had done what she was about to do - not just with Lasers, but with guns as they used to have. Another salty tear slipped down her cheek.

     As she hovered her finger over the small screen, which ran around the centre of the cylinder, her whole life flashed before her eyes. It encouraged her to drop her finger a little lower, nearer the screen. She closed her eyes and took her last deep breath.

     "Wait!" A voice called.

     She opened her eyes and reflexively took the Laser from her head, hiding it behind her back. A movement to her right caught her eyes. Two tall figures were making their way towards her. She knew that they must have already seen the Laser, so she pulled the Laser out again and aimed it towards them.

     Both figures stopped, startled. One of them - a boy, she thought - raised his hands in surrender and the other, who had a more feminine build, copied.

     "Go away." She called, through gritted teeth, more rivers escaping her eyes. They continued to approach her. "Turn around. Pretend you didn't see me." Her hand holding the Laser shook and was nearly slipping through her sweaty fingers.

     About 5 metres away, she saw the pair share a glance, but still, they carried on forward. She closed her eyes and took a breath, but before her eyes had fully opened, she felt the Laser being tugged from her grasp.

     Now, the boy was in her face, the Laser in his hand. Her breathing sped up, as she broke out in a cold sweat. He reached into a pocket inside his jacket and when he pulled back out, light illuminated around them, making her squint.

     The light cast shadows on his face, making him look like he was going to tell a ghost story. The shadows showed his angular cheekbones, dark brown eyes set under creased eyebrows and muddy blonde hair. He tossed the Laser back, behind him and his acquaintance - who was stood just behind the boy, showing a sign of peace.

     "I'm Jace." He said it slowly, as if talking to a child. "This is Liara." He gestured at the girl behind him. For a second, he just looked at her, as if to let her digest this information. Then, he rose an eyebrow, obviously expecting her to tell them her name. When she stayed quiet, Jace gave her another push. "What's your name?"

    "M-" She stopped herself. "Fia." She lied - no it wasn't a lie; it was a change. A change for the better - she hoped.