Out From the Shadows

Chapter 15

I feel drowsy, but not as much as Almarie. She is practically asleep, although she walks alongside me while I help hold her up. She stumbles up the stair case to her room and I have to catch her once or twice. When we make it to her bed, she collapses on the mattress and is out like a light. After grabbing a wool blanket from her closet, I tuck her in and lightly plant a kiss on her cheek. She rolls over and spreads her limbs out like a starfish. Her hands and feet hang out from under the blanket, but she seems content this way. I leave her to sleep and tiptoe through the hallway to my bedroom.

The door announces my arrival with a long squeak, and I wince until the noise dissipates. I flick the lights on, knowing exactly where the switch is from memory. I gaze around my room to let my eyes adjust to the harsh lights. I lock my eyes onto the lamp next to my bed, then switch the overhead lights off. I head straight for the lamp and my hand grabs air a couple times until it feels the chain. One yank and the soft yellow light seeps through the white cylinder that surrounds the light bulb.

I clearly make out the bookshelves that cover one entire wall of my bedroom; the wood shining against the illumination. I shake my shoes and socks, hoping the loss of them will increase my stealth. I patter over to the most left bookshelf and search each row carefully.

Romeo and Juliet, The Great Gatsby, Cry the Beloved Country and so many more classics from the age of democracy, before the wars and corruption. I even own a history book, one that kids used in middle school. Now, schools fully depend on the knowledge of trained professors whom are appointed by Albert Smithens, who helps advise the queen on education. I was lucky enough to go to school up to twelfth grade and then continue my education farther.

My hand flies up to a thin, rough looking book, one that I have been searching for. I tug it out with a finger and smooth the dust from its cover. The title has faded away, any emblazoned letters rubbed to a pulp. Mother used to read it to me when I had a hard time sleeping, the story of an ugly ducking unfolding with every page. When I flip it open, it goes straight to page five; my favorite part of the story and where the item I'm looking for is kept.

The trinket falls into my hand and I set the book back in its rightful place. The tiny opal is baby smooth and has a tiny metal loop sticking out where it was attached to the chain. I'm guessing it was paired with a silver chain, to match the metal loop, but I'm not fully aware of the jewelry trends. I do know that an opal is expensive, especially this kind of opal. Blue and white specks are infused into the black, making it the most rare form of opal to find.

It's the only clue I have to finding my mother's killer. I remember when the policemen showed up to investigate. They checked every place she was seen last, analyzed every thread in the bedsheet, and yet they found nothing. Not even the place she was kept and tortured. That's what they claimed happened, at least, according to how starved she was. She was stabbed twenty-five times, an over kill that was unnecessary and no idea what kind of knife was used. The case was closed a year after her death; only open for so long because we made "generous donations" to the department. There is no machinery to help investigations, all was destroyed during the revolution and war.

I grip the trinket and pull out a newer history book. I don't bother changing into pajamas, and instead, snuggle up in bed with the book in one hand and the opal in another. I skim the book lightly, having read it already, and the events of the past 100 years come back to me.

In 2045, the United States of America was ravished by terrorists, murder, and disease, among other things, and it all started the Right War. Some people fought for a different government, one where all the laws were thrown out and new ones implemented, others for a more powerful government that could make stricter laws. The Horsemen, who were against, was led by Amelia Torrens, and The Cavaliers was led by Edward Duchens. After 500,000 people went to battle and never made it, The Cavaliers gave in and surrendered. Amelia Torrens took control, being the first queen, and forced Edward Duchen's hand to marry her. He made a bargain with her; every Cavalier would be spared, but would be considered lower class and forced to do heavy labor. Horsemen were given important jobs on her court. The new monarchy was born.

Now we are in the end of June, 2116, and my eyes will not stay open for any longer than ten seconds at a time. I close the book and set it delicately on my nightstand. I switch the lamp off, sending my room into a gaping darkness. With the opal in hand and my mind going to sleep already, I close my eyes, shutting the world out for the night.