Everything's an Illusion

My father use to always tell me, “Go outside, enjoy the fresh air, it won’t always be there.” Then my mother would just laugh and roll her eyes saying something along the lines of that was a ludicrous thing to say. That we would always have fresh air. Where would it even go?

I would just laugh and promise my father that I would enjoy the air the best I could and then go outside for hours at a time.

About a month after I turned fifteen my father developed a rare type of lung disease. No cure had been found and my wonderful father died within a week of having it discovered. He died peacefully though, in his sleep. At least, I like to think that he wasn’t in pain. Once again though, he said his famous line to me, “Enjoy the fresh air.” That turned into the last thing my father, Joseph Long, ever said to me. That was the first time anyone I had loved died, and it was a rough time. My mother went through depression, I stopped caring about things I had once made my world around. Although, I never stopped doing one thing, and that was going outside and enjoying the fresh air.

It was about a year after my father that I met Peter, or really Peter met me. I had known who he was since the early days of school, but to him I was just that girl with the chocolate hair who’s father had died. One day though, out of the blue, Peter walked up to me for no reason. He wasn’t the typical scrawny guy who ran around the schools nowadays. Peter was muscular and athletic, if it involved sports then he would be doing it. He was well built up and had these dark puppy dog eyes that went with his light brown hair. In one word Peter was amazing.

He had asked me to the school dance, and being since he had been the only boy who had asked me I gladly accepted. The day of the dance my friend, Trixie, and I got ready in my bathroom while my mother, who had recently turned into a raging alcoholic during the days she didn’t work, slept in her room before she left for work. The makeup had been put on, and our hair was in place when the doorbell rang to my house. Peter stood on our porch with a handful of roses, once the door had read my hand print, I opened it up to see him. He smiled at me, told me I looked beautiful and handed me the roses.

Nothing happened that night other than Peter and me going to the dance together and having a wonderful time. Peter quickly turned into someone I wanted to talk to all the time, someone who seemed to want to listen to me, someone who liked to talk back, and he even enjoyed speaking with my mother. Peter was someone I wanted to be in my life and I hoped he wanted me in his. Two months after the dance Peter asked me to be his girlfriend, said that there was just something about me he couldn’t get over and didn’t want to. Of course, I gladly accepted and that was how Peter and I got into a relationship.

Then, a year and a half later news broke worldwide about the air. It had gone ‘bad’, so to speak. Peter and I were in my living room when the news came on and said it. My father had been correct, the air was going bad. The news said something about how only invited people would be allowed into these bunker places once the air turned poisonous, people who were doctors, or scientists, or high up in the military. Special people and their families and then a few random people. If you were lucky. My mother was a scientist, therefore we got our invitation to Bunker 7. An abandoned school looking place, or at least that’s what the picture looked like. We would leave in two months. The first thing that jumped into my mind was What about Peter? Peter has to go.

It was almost as if there was a God that day, almost. Peter’s family did get invited to go into a Bunker. Given that his grandfather had been a very powerful man, but they weren’t sentenced to the same Bunker as us. The Rolling’s got put into Bunker 9. Which is fantastic that they qualified to be placed, but terrible at the same time.

Once you’re inside of the Bunkers there’s no going out. No visiting other Bunkers, there’s no extra space. Once Peter and I went to separate Bunkers it was a very good chance that I may never see the love of my life again.