The Colosseum

Ezra Smith

Ezra

If I were a hidden document containing the reason for my ridiculous existence, where would I be? Something like that isn't just stuffed in the back of a closet or tucked beneath the dusty China in the kitchen. It has to be somewhere that someone would never want it to be found. Kova and I split up. She started working from the back of the palace and I from the front – from the gardens to the extensive driveway. This included under loose stones in the pavement, inside electric boxes on the lamplights, digging through debris in case the hiding spot was blown to bits. Within the first hour of searching, my knuckles were flayed and hands calloused into sandpaper.

But I can't stop. Kova was right about my time being limited, and though I promised to wait to work out issues until tomorrow morning, I doubt I'll have a chance like this to look for the hidden documents. Nobody at the palace is beckoning me about issues, and everyone is tenaciously working to clean things up. Kova is here, and I couldn't trust anyone else to help me with a task like this.

At one point, I thought I could trust Leon with my life, but clearly, I was mistaken. Somewhere along the way, I got too comfortable. If I slip up like that again, then next time, a gun won't just be pointed at Kova, but the trigger will be pulled. Somewhere deep in my chest, one of the first roots that sprouted my heart aches with a tremoring sob. I grew up with Leon. Without having to tell anyone what I endured, he knew about it because he lived through it with me. Because of that, there was a certain bond we developed that I appreciated – one where he understood my mood and thoughts without having to tell him, and for that, he gave me respectable space. It was a good relationship, but somewhere along the way, he viewed himself on a pedestal that was never meant for him to reach. Because he thought that starting a war to end one was the only way to save our nation, he doomed himself in the process.

To say I'll miss him is both an understatement and overstatement. The idea of missing someone in death is foreign to me, and ever saying "I miss you" is far too sentimental for me to ever say. Yet there will be a gap where he always stood and it makes me shiver with the hopeless feeling of being unable to fill it.

I decide to take to the main rooms next in the hunt for the answers to my biggest questions: the bedrooms, the surgery rooms, the Dining Hall. But with the palace only bearing two children, there wasn't much clutter to sort through. There are no ruffles in the carpets, hard spots under the beds, or envelopes in clothes that don't exist inside of closets. Everything is so bare and minimal that if it weren't for posted guards and servants and my one bedroom, you wouldn't be able to tell that the place was occupied.

Frustrated at the lack of a find or even a clue, I storm back into the social room, where the night air brings in the cold scents of icy humidity and closing flower buds. Kova's echoing footsteps make an appearance before she does, returning from the lower rooms, despite the major incident that occurred but a couple of hours ago.

"Anything?" I ask, unable to keep the desperation out of my voice. For years I was abused alongside my brother, and with answers so close to me – literally right under my nose – I couldn't possibly feel more frantic to find them. If anything, I'm enraged that I couldn't locate them sooner, even if by accident.

Somberly, Kova shakes her head, brown bob swishing sideways. "Nothing. I guess it's the same for you?"

Clenching my teeth, I try to remember if there were any secret places I might've stumbled upon in my youth. We don't have basements or attics – I would've found them for hiding long ago. I've located every closet and cranny, but these "documents" are nonexistent. Did Ten find them first and leave? Or worse, did Leon destroy them and die with the contents in his brain, splattered on the wall down that dark prison?