Jade wants me to start from when I met her, but Jade is a bitch so can't be asked to listen to her
My name is countess Trudis Gratene. I am 15 years old and live in the middle of The City
It's hard these days. I mean as in it's hard to not be confused, exhausted or stressed out by life at the moment. My parents had it easy. One lived in the poor side, another in the rich side. But now we are caught in the middle and I'm expected to perfect in both sides of The City. To be honest I don't know which side I prefer.
I go to school in the rich side, nicknamed Morning Side, where the grand buildings stand. They tower over everyone scurrying to obey. My school is one of the best you could say. But that's not to say it's filled with everyone who's rich. Many are living off nothing at home, the money pouring straight from bosses' hands into the school. My fees come from Dad who works in a successful bank, at the moment the job is steady but with younger fresher people forever working up the ranks there is always fear he will tumble from his podium. Shops on this side sell expensive goods, or even things that should be cheap at extortionate prices. I have to say, even with the greed and manipulation that goes on in this side of the city state, I prefer the serene quietness. Noise seems to be non-existent in this half. But never are you allowed to disturb it
The second half of the city is nicknamed the moon, as those in Morning Side think it should be hidden for most of the year. I like it. The greys, rusty browns and smoky blacks a colourful rebellion to those pearly whites in East. The people on this side are more laid back about life though. Acceptance of their fate that they never succeeded academically has led them to happier, less legal, ways of life. Stealing, mugging, forgery, hacking are all normalised. Shops are cheap, and are ussually a cover for something. You see that backery over there? The man owning it sells drugs. The old woman in the library, she steals bank details from those in Morning Side. And the fifteen year old boy giving bread to the homeless man? My brother. My parents don't realise that he is at the top of a criminal empire. At least he's not confused by the stark differences on either side of the imaginary wall.
The weight of success was lifted off his shoulders along time ago. He never even tried to do well at school. His grades were low since the start and no matter the time, energy or money my parents threw at him it made no difference. His heart was not interested in academia. He's happier now.
They're not though.
And that looming thought possess my every move. What if I'm not worthy? What if I fail? What if my masks fall off? The personas I take on to try fit in to both sides. These echo my dreams, force me to lock out many feelings, to think certain ways, to become the person who I am. But can you call me a person really? If you collected shards of glass, would that be a window? Would you call wood chippings a tree? A graveyard a city? I am just a collection of broken parts. Fragile so even the slightest breeze could blow me of course. Cause me the splinter, to shatter, to degrade to something lesser.
If I could run I would. But the splinters of loyalty attack. So I stay. I will fight the hell. I shall wake the demons.
I shall laugh at the devil's face.
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I Remember the Days
Historia CortaI remember the days under the sun. We were free. We were young We laughed so high like the larks in the sky. But every wild fire will one day die... Alyia used to have close friends. Used to run wild late into the night. She was 12 when everything w...
