✔️| Becoming Lady Washington

Chapter Fourteen: Alice's Past

Alice's POV

~Dreaming~
August 24, 2012

I was in the living room of my old house in Cincinnati, Ohio, sitting on my favorite couch with my dad... no wait, this is a dream. My dad is dead. And I knew what this dream would be about.

It was a normal day in the suburb in which I lived, or so I thought. School was out for the weekend, so I was just chilling at home while my parents were due to go out to dinner that night.

Little did I know, that would never happen.

Suddenly, the door flew open as a man dressed in black burst in, holding a pistol in his hand. A sadistic grin was on his face as he aimed the gun at my father.

"Alice, go. Run. Run away, and only return when I text you that it's safe to do so." My dad softly commanded, reaching for the shelf where he kept his knife, which was a family heirloom. Nodding, I ran out to find Mom.

But before I could leave the room, I heard the gun go off, and I heard the telltale thump of a body hitting the ground. Racing back into the room, I noticed the killer standing over Dad, his arms crossed and a smug smile on his face.

"He'll never oppose me again." He looked me directly in my eyes, and I flinched. "Let this serve as a warning. Anyone who dares to oppose me, Rush Reynolds, will face my wrath. You have been warned."

I stuck my middle finger up at him, and curled my hand into a fist. He glanced toward the door to make sure the police were not coming, and while he was doing that, I punched him. Hard.

Doubling over and clutching his stomach, he stumbled toward the door just as sirens started to screech. Looks like Mom called 911. Before he exited the house, he winked at me and I gave him my deluxe You-Will-Regret-This stare. Laughing, he left and I fainted, the world going black.
~End of Dream~

Washington's POV

"NO, DAD!"

I looked up from my paperwork, as the shout rang through my ears, gasping when I recognized who was shouting.

It was Alice.

Against my better judgement, I abandoned my paperwork, and strode dutifully toward the sound. Reveling in the peace and quiet of the camp in the pitch-black darkness, I idly wondered why Alice shouted what she did. Perhaps I would ask her.

"Alice?" I stepped into the tent, straightening my back as my eyes adjusted to the light. Glancing over, I saw that Lieutenant Colonel Paine was still asleep. "Darling, are you alright?" I asked, sitting onto her bed.

Alice was sitting up, wide awake, tears streaming down her face. "Why him? Just, why him? Couldn't God have spared his life? He didn't deserve this!"

"Shh, it's ok. It's ok. You're safe now." I pulled her into a tight hug, and reached with one arm to grab her uniform jacket. "Let's go on a walk, and we can talk about it. Here's your jacket; it's cold outside."

"O-okay," she stammered, reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes. Grasping each other's hands, we walked outside into the crisp evening air.

"So," I said as we came to stop at the very place where I had first met her in the woods. "What was that all about?"

Looking down, she responded, "Nothing. It's a long story."

"It's alright, you can tell me. It will help to tell someone. Otherwise, the nightmares will continue to plague you for the rest of your life." I soothed, placing my hand on her leg. She looked up, and nodded, her still tear-streaked face shimmering in the moonlight.

"Fine. You win." Alice grumbled. Taking a breath, she began the tale.

"In 2012, there were four candidates for the position of President of the United States. Barack Obama, Mitt Romney, Matt Read, and my father, Perseus Bell." Her voice cracked as she said his name, but she took a breath and continued. "Now, Percy (as he liked us to call him), was already a respected politician, for he had served as a Senator in Congress. Since he was a politician, of course, he had enemies. And some of the enemies were, well, violent." Alice stopped for a second, to compose herself.

I nodded, following the story so far. Honestly, since I was a politician myself, I could see where this was going.

"Anyways, one Friday night, we were just chilling in the living room of my house, and the killer came in, and h-he," I held up a finger to stop her.

"I think I can figure out what happens from here, my love. You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to, for it must be very painful. But, I understand. My brother, Lawrence..." I trailed off, remembering my amazingly adventurous brother who had died of a malady a decade or so before I was elected to be a member of the Continental Congress. Alice nodded in understanding, and rested her head on my shoulder.

"You know," she said suddenly, laughing slightly. "It was not a coincidence I was singing Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again the other day, and I was not singing it because I like it. (Which I do.) I was singing it because I really am still grieving for Father, though I am starting to get over it. After all, it did happen like two years ago. Honestly, the past is in the past, and it is time for me to let it go." Alice stood up, brushing the dirt off of her nightgown. I followed suit, and we walked back to the camp, hand in hand once more.

After dropping Alice off at her tent, I strolled back to my tent, my hands in my pockets. My mind was whirling from all of the new information I had learned. Me and Alice yet another, slightly morbid, thing in common: we had both seen someone die. The fact that both of us had experienced that would bring us closer together, I realized.

As I closed my eyes, Alice was the only thing on my mind.