This Kiss

Prologue

"'Cause I spread my wings
and I learn how to fly
I'll do what it takes
'till I touch the sky"

~Breakaway, Kelly Clarkson
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Tris

Freedom.


That's what just about everyone wants in this world.

But it's not always attainable.

We, Americans, are very lucky to have attainted said freedom. Our ancestors of the past have fought many battles for it to be won.

All of these battles were known together as the American Revolutionary War. A political upheaval that took place between 1765 and 1783. A total of eighteen years.

The war all started in 1765, when members of the American colonial society rejected the authority of the British parliament to tax them and create other laws affecting them, without colonial representatives in the government. Basically, to sum it all up, the colonists of the thirteen American colonies rejected the British in establishing a monarchy and aristocracy, which, more or less, caused the British to become enraged. This wasn't the only reason why the British decided to attack, though. I don't even have to go into details on what happened, since basically everyone knows how it all played out.

I will say this, however. The ultimate victorious battle that was won, was the battle that held place in Yorktown where a combined American-French force captured the second British army in 1781. Effectively ending the everlasting war in the United States, more or less. But what completely and formally ended all conflict was the Treaty of Paris in 1783. Two years later. Confirming and legalizing the new nation's complete separation and independence from the British Empire.

What kept the Americans going throughout all of this shit that was happening, was hope. They held on to whatever hope they could grasp, and didn't let go. They never gave up, even when it seemed that all hope was to be lost.

During the last fought battle, after all of the bombs stopped and the smoke cleared up...there stood the American flag. Waving in the cool breeze of the early morning with a foggy mist all around, and the flag pole bent to the side, just barley hanging on.

But, even with the misshaped pole, the flag still waved. It stood standing all throughout the night. Through the smoke, flames, bombs, and fired gunshots. The ends of it were ragged and had a few holes here and there, but it miraculously stayed standing. No one in the British army could believe the ludicrous sight that stood right before their own eyes. Even a great deal of our American soldiers and allies almost couldn't believe it, themselves.

What kept the flag flying high up in the air throughout the night, was not a miracle.

It was not luck. It was not a gift or privilege received from God. It was not by chance.


It was hope.


Hope is what kept that great flag flying. Hope is what kept our soldiers to continue fighting. Hope is what kept us all moving forward.

The hope of the possibility to have our deserved freedom. The sliver of hope that was tightly grasped in all minds of the Americans. The hope that was dangling high up on a slim string, hanging above the head of our soldiers.


Hope.


A four letter word that meant the world to the thirteen colonies.

Hope-a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.

And that's what I'm trying to do.


Have hope.


It's ironic to think that two hundred thirty three years later, after the revolution took place. After the Declaration of Independence was signed. After the war, after the battle was fought...

There's still no freedom at all.


Or at least not for me.


I'm trying to have hope to be able to escape this place. This prison. This cage. These heavy metal chains that are wrapped around me and have me locked up.

I want to go on an adventure. I want to take risks. Take chances.


I want to live my life.


But all of that isn't necessarily easy for me to do. Not when both of my parents are the most overprotective assholes in the world who keep me on a tightly gripped leash. Not when the both of them are some of the most highly respected personnel in their field of work, and basically anyone can point out who I am if they've ever heard of my parents.

Not when I'm the daughter of the head agent of the secret service and a retired senior lieutenant of the armed forces. Both of which who basically work-or worked- for the big man himself. The president.

I'm tired of this.


All I want to do is breakaway.


And believe me when I say that I plan to.



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