I am concealed in the bushes, the wind chilling my insides. It feels natural, hiding in the bushes, but something is wrong. Where am I? I look around, but I'm deserted. There's not a soul in sight. The silence is deafening, until I hear a laugh. It's lighthearted, like a giggle, but it echoes through the emptiness like a constant laugh. It fills in the silence with warmth and happiness, reaching into a deep point of my mind that has been untouched for weeks. It tries to tug it free, but I won't let it. It's too painful. Hesitantly, I lean into the bush and watch the street for signs of where the laughter comes from, even though I know too well who it's coming from. It comes from me.
Old me saunters down the street with a silly skip in her step, a grin glued on her face. I feel my face grow numb as I watch in awe as I twirl across the street with a grin I haven't worn since that night. Followed closely behind her is Old Riley, in his hands tucked into the frumpy, old sweater I always hated. If only I could see it one more time.
"Oh come on, Ri. I bet you can't even guess!" Old me taunts, looking back at a laughing Riley. I can't even recall the conversation. It must have been important. Then, I see my parents. My heart stops at the sight of them together, warm, lively smiles on their faces. A sob escapes my lips while they laugh at Old Riley and Old Me taunting each other. The memory makes my tears burn into my cheeks.
Something interrupts the jovial mood of the evening, and Old Riley looks around unknowingly.
"What was that?" He asks nobody in particular. They all shrug but grow steadily unsure of the environment. Father holds mother closer with a knowing look in his eyes, like he can predict that they are drawing their last breaths. But then again, this is only a memory, and they must've been as clueless as we were. Both Old Riley and Old Me are just laughing, frozen in a moment of joy. The dream is reoccurring, so I can never watch the next part. Prepared for what I wasn't at the time, I turn my eyes away and wipe all evidence of tears from my face. Inhale, exhale. Then the shots are fired, and that perfect moment is forever shattered.
I sit up like a rocket from my bed, my face wrecked with tears and my throat tight, wishing I could scream for them to run.
YOU ARE READING
Kill #500
AcciónBeing designed to kill someone sucks, especially when you don't have control over your heart. KZ is ordered to kill Lucas Pembers on the evening of New Year's Eve. She has every right to hate him; he killed her parents and he was the notorious leade...
