The Middle Ground

Chapter One

In front of me are two unrecognizable people. One is an ominous, pale, and strong man. He wears a dark tuxedo that reminds me of a black hole. His hair is slicked back so that he looks like a rich man in the early 1900s. His eyes are a dark brown which should look scary, but somehow they're soothing. He gives off an aura of sadness. I can't help but wonder what made him feel this way. The last thing I notice about him is his hands. They're humongous. It seems like he could easily grab my head and smash it in one of his palms.

The other is a tall, tan, and delicate woman. She wears a bright golden dress that shines like a thousand tiny suns. Her hair is put in a extravagant style that reflects wealth. Her eyes are almost golden brown. They show love to their core, although she seems very stressed. She looks as though the weight of the world is on her shoulders and she isn't capable of carrying it on her own. I also study her hands; they're tiny and fragile, almost like a child's.

They're both facing me as they reach out an eager hand toward me and slowly open their palms. In the woman's hand there's light. It radiates warmth and shines so bright that it's hard to see. It's a little irritating. "It's peaceful, innocent. The place where the sun shines and the flowers grow. It's where people know exactly what they're doing with their life. They're on a set path to their goal and they won't let any branch or thicket get in their way," the woman tells me.

In the other hand there is darkness. It consumes the air and everything around it until nothing is left. Chills crawl up my spine as the man begins to speak.

"The exhilarating moments that you'll never forget. The never ending adventure. It's rushing into the unknown as if it were your friend, but those are only one side of each hand; if you'd flip them over you'd see the other part of their story," the man says.

He continues and glares at the woman; "In the light there are strict rules and high expectations that everyone must live up to. There's constant competition to see who is best. They live on the fact that 'no one is perfect', and yet they criticize those who aren't."

"In the dark you're never able to rest. Feel too tired to party? Got too much work to go on a ride? Too bad. Take a pill, chug a drink; do whatever it takes to keep your body going," argues the other.

Suddenly a deep looming voice interrupts them, "Two different ways to live, but you have to choose one. Both have good and bad sides. Will you have a exciting and fast life or a peaceful and slow one?" This voice seems to come from nowhere and is the overruling force here.

What is it talking about? I have to choose how my life will go? How am I supposed to choose that? Well obviously take a hand, but I mean how am I supposed to decide? Maybe the voice will help me. "Hey," I begin, but then the voice starts laughing.

"What if I told you that you have no choice? It's all in your genes. How they grew up, how they were raised, where they ended up; it all impacts you," it pauses, "You're rebellious, a rule breaker, and a risk taker; but you've got a good head on your shoulders. You want to achieve your goals in life and have fun doing it. Where do you belong? Which hand will you choose?" it asks.

Which hand will I choose? It just said I didn't have a choice and now it's giving me one? This person voice thing needs to make up its mind. Either I have a choice or I don't. Maybe not. Maybe what it meant is that those things impact my choice, but they don't decide it. Anyway I have to choose.

How can I choose? Either one I choose, I lose my freedom. The freedom to be who I want to be. To be me. What if... What if I don't want to choose? What will happen then? I don't have a hundred choices. I only have two. Will I be floating in the unknown for the rest of my life? Not really sure who I am or what to do. Is that such a bad thing?

Would that be such a bad thing? Sure it'll be hard and I probably will have a lot of people mad at me for this, but there has to be something else. In fact there is. I slowly turn around and get engulfed in gray.

Unlike the light and the dark it has no story. There's no person there to represent it. It doesn't demand that I follow it. It's just there. It's silent. It's calming and somehow reminds me of home. It's yet to have a voice, or a hand to reach for someone take.

I swiftly turn around. "I choose the gray," I pronounce.

"You can't choose something that doesn't exist," it declares.

"Just because it doesn't exist, doesn't mean it can't be created," I pause to wait for the voice to respond, and when it says nothing I continue," It's what I've chosen and I'm sticking to it."

The voice becomes gentle, "I must warn you. Many have tried that choice and have failed."

"Well," I sigh, "I guess I'll have to be one of the lucky ones."

"You'll have to be very Victoria! I'm leaving weather you're coming or not!" yells the voice.

"What..." I trail off.

"Vic! Come on! I thought you wanted to take me to the train!" it yells.

I calmly respond, "What are you taking about and you don't need t-"

"Okay, well I'm leaving!" My brothers voice shouts.

Oh damn it! That's right Luke's leaving today for his boarding school and I promised to drive him. Crap! Wake up!

My eyes pop open and my body rolls off of the bed onto the floor. "I'm coming," I groan. I begin to blink and my wait for them to slowly adjust to the mornings brilliant light.

My small messy room comes into view. The white boring walls with nothing on them flow nicely into the cream carpet. In the middle of the floor is textbooks, papers, pencils, and all of the summer work I'm supposed to have finished by now. In the the corner stands the tall, dark, luminous, and out of place wardrobe. I start to see the several cracks that show it's age. Next to it is my bay window that looks onto the woods behind the house. The only other furniture in my room is my night stand and the full size bed that now is missing two of its pillows, a blanket, a sheet, and a peaceful sleeping girl. Next to the bed is my night stand which has my phone charging, the keys to my car, my headphones, and a small lamp. On the other side of my bed I can see the closed sliding doors to my closet.

I slowly push myself up and throw the blanket, pillows, and sheet back onto the bed. I drag my feet to the closet and push the doors to the side. I grab a random sweatshirt and pull it over my head. I leave the doors open not caring and slow my pace to the wardrobe. It creeks and groans as I pull it open.

"Look I don't want to up this early today either, but just work with me ok?" I tell it. I grab a pair of leggings and pull them onto my body. As I close the doors it is slightly quieter than when I opened them. I smile, "Thanks." I slip on my extremely worn out sneakers that were sitting in front of the dresser. Then I go to grab my phone and keys and then leave the room. As I walk down the hall approaching the stairs I stop as I pass a mirror. I gaze into it and notice my hair looks like a bird nest. "Do I have time to brush my hair? No? Okay then, bun it is," say as I aggressively pull my hair into a very messy bun.

"Okay! I guess you're not coming!" he shouts at me.

"I'm coming down stairs! Idiot," I roll my eyes at him.

"Then hurry up! I don't want to be late!" he yells. I turn around and proceed to go at a snails pace while stomping my feet on the stairs. He growls "Vic if you don't hurry the fuck up I'll-"

"You'll do nothing with language like that. Now shut your mouth," I hear my mother say as I walk down the stairs.

"Look who finally showed up, Bed Head," he glares as I reach the main level.

"Man, that really hurt. Right here," I grab the area where my heart would be and walk toward him. He rolls his eyes in response and then starts laughing. Soon I'm laughing, too.

"You ready to head out?" I ask.

"Yeah," he chuckles. Mom pulls him into a tight hug and dad just gives him a nod of approval after she releases him. "Bye," he waves to them as he opens and walks out the door.

"I'll be back later," I tell them before leaving.

"Okay. Be safe and make sure your brother gets on the train on time," she responds sweetly as I walk outside.

"Sure, Mom," I say as I I close the door and head towards the car.