"It's gone." I've heard lies: stories about what came before. Before it all. Before the green, before the sky, I've heard lies. Our whole world is shaped on them. Flickering flames, sparkling seas: they don't exist. They never did.
What if I told you that we're fake? That the freedom we have isn't exactly freedom after all? Would you believe it?
Or would you just think I'm crazy?
▼▼▼
"Mom." I swung my backpack over my shoulder, resting my bony elbows on the windowsill. I couldn't get last night out of my mind. The way he - something about him was familiar. Weirdly familiar. I sighed. My short, curly brown hair framed my face as my fingers gently tapped the hard glass. It was beautiful outside. Trees swaying in the wind, the sun shining brightly on the lawn. Never looked better.
"Yeah, Keira?"
"The bus is here," I answered. I turned around and inspected her quietly. She looked nothing like me. She sadly scrubbed the dishes, brushing black hair out of her blue eyes. Her simple shirt was matched with loose, black tights and a tight ponytail.
Sometimes looking at her was depressing. I loved her too much, way too much for me to even register. But after what happened, nothing would be the same again. I couldn't blame her. For months I cried in my room, praying to anyone who was listening that he would come back. Begging them. It never worked. I guess. . . I just lost hope. Over time I healed, patching up the bruises that once formed. Mom, however, never did. She never had the courage to. She wore them as a part of her lifestyle, owning up to them and acknowledging them. She was strong. But not strong enough.
"Okay," she exhaled, "bye."
For some reason, I felt a little disappointed. I sighed. "Bye, Mom."
▼▼▼
"The police said he went loco. Kept talking about 'the other world' or something. My guess is that he was on drugs."
I shyly walked into the classroom, reading a book. To tell the truth, I was just pretending to. But they didn't need to know that.
Thankfully, no one noticed me. I sat in my seat, carefully placing my backpack on the floor.
"It happened yesterday, right?" Charles asked. Curious, I eyed the bundle of seniors across from me.
"Yeah," Kim answered. She fumbled with the buttons on her jacket, pulling it over her chair. "And Grayson, I'm pretty sure he wasn't on drugs. The police said he had a clean record."
Is he - Is that. . . it is.
Grayson sighed. "Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't. Do you know what happened?"
I closed my eyes tightly.
Kim opened her mouth, but Charles interrupted her. "What if he wasn't crazy?" he said simply. "Think about it: he didn't do anything wrong. You said he was talking about 'the other world'. I mean, that's just what he thought. And he might actually be right, you know. About the 'other world.'"
Kim snorted. "Sure."
"Hey, I'm just pointing out that there is a possibility."
"Mhmm," she said in disbelief.
"Guys!"
I snapped my eyes open and directed them to the teacher up front, closing my book. The rest of the class adjusted their posture and listened.
