《The Usurper》


 Death and the Dream

    Rose gripped her aching side as she ran. The crunching leaves beneath her feet that were a source of joy only hours ago now sounded like clanging gongs alerting her pursuers to her exact location. Every muscle screamed and begged her to stop, but she pushed herself harder than she ever thought possible. Suddenly, a tree came crashing down in front of her. Her body collided into the immense barricade with such momentum that she fell backwards.


    Tears welled as she lay on the cold, hard ground. It was too late. She was going to die. Mustering the last bit of strength she had, she threw the evidence she just gave her life to collect as far away from her as she possibly could while praying to anyone who could hear that it would later find itself in the right hands and that her sacrifice would be worth it.


    As the scent of decay invaded her nose, she stood tall and ignored the pain coursing through her body. From the shadows appeared razor-sharp claws attached to a dead man¡¯s hand. The cadaverous creature moved briskly and quietly into view. Rose did her best to appear calm and cold despite the terror rising within her. All the conversations she had with Peter about the Elite could never have prepared her for the monster in the moonlight locking eyes with her now.


    She stood breathless as the red eyes examined her. The melting flesh on its face prevented her from reading any form of emotion. She was so fixated on remaining calm that she had not noticed the other two Elite that had joined the first. The first Elite, still staring deep into Rose¡¯s soul, cocked its head to the side. Rose flinched as the sound of cracking bones permeated through the dense forest.


    ¡°Why,¡± it asked in a bone-chilling whisper, ¡°would you risk your life on a futile effort?¡±


    Rose remained silent. Her refusal to answer only caused the creature to laugh. It seemed amused at her defiance. It moved closer, and Rose felt bile rise in her throat. She was not sure if it was caused by fear of the grotesque creature before her or pain from her still aching back.


    ¡°Foolish humans. Do you truly believe you could ever defeat King Abaddon? For centuries you have tried, and for centuries you have failed.¡± Rose could feel its breath against her cheek. The overwhelming scent of rotting flesh nearly overtook Rose, but she stood strong as the creature dug its claw into her chin and forced her to look up toward its mad, crimson eyes. The terrifying talons were so sharp that blood began to trickle from Rose¡¯s chin the moment it contacted her skin.


    ¡°He is no king of mine,¡± Rose retorted, her words laced with venom. Blood began oozing down her neck at greater volumes with each syllable she uttered, but she refused to look away from the ghastly creature or try to remove the claw that was now embedded into her chin.


    The monster, unphased by Rose¡¯s response, unhesitatingly slit her throat with one swift swipe. Her body crumpled to the ground, and he signaled the other two Elite to finish the job. Rose accepted her fate with courage and dignity. She did not try to fight. She did not show pain or fear. Instead, she closed her eyes and fixated on the smiling faces of her daughter and husband. She cared not of the surety of her imminent and painful death but only of the smiling family she had to leave behind. Tears mixed with blood as Rose felt her life fading. Suddenly, she felt a sharp, searing pain in her abdomen and then nothing.


    <hr>


    Charity inhaled deeply and let the fresh mountain air fill her lungs. The soft crunch of the autumn leaves filled her with content as she gazed upon the picturesque landscape. Despite having never left the mountain town in which she was born, Charity believed that nowhere else in the country could ever compare to the beauty of her home¡ªa small town and the closest possible location one could get to the very heart and capital of Exoneron. She gazed upon the ring of mountains in the distance and the colossal monument situated in the very center. The king¡¯s tall ivory tower juxtaposed with the colorful massif that surrounded it, dwarfing even the tallest summit.


    She quietly removed her art supplies from her bag and began to paint. Mixing varying shades of oranges and reds, she strived to capture the breathtaking scenery on her canvas. Between the twittering birds and rustling leaves, the fresh scent of mountain air mixed with the familiar smell of new paints, and the calming motion of each stroke of her paintbrush caused Charity to become lost in a world of her own. She was not sure whether minutes or hours had passed when she heard crunching leaves and snapping twigs resounding loudly from somewhere behind her, which momentarily pulled her away from her work.


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you made it up the trail,¡± Charity said without turning to face the source of the noise.


    ¡°You¡­ couldn¡¯t have¡­ picked an easier spot?" Leah retorted while trying to catch her breath.


    Charity laughed and finally turned to face her friend. Leah was panting and doubled over a large boulder. Her glaring hazel eyes and flushed face did not deter Charity from finding the entire ordeal humorous. In fact, it caused Charity to laugh even more. Leah sighed heavily and walked over to her friend.


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    Leah and Charity were opposite in nearly every way, and their differences, in many ways, brought out the best in one another and caused them to be the unlikeliest of companions. While Charity loved adventure, Leah hated the idea of leaving her home. Charity threw caution to the wind and, in Leah¡¯s words, ¡°would run into a gunfight with a water pistol¡± if given the chance. Leah, on the other hand, would have never experienced the world beyond her own front yard if not for Charity. Charity brought life to Leah¡¯s cautionary tale, and Leah kept Charity from making rash decisions that could put either of them in harm¡¯s way.


    Leah tucked her short, blonde hair behind her ear as she sat beside her friend.


    ¡°I think this one is your best yet,¡± she said as she admired Charity¡¯s painting.


    ¡°It¡¯s still not good enough,¡± Charity responded with a sigh. ¡°The dimensions of the tower are off, and the colors of the leaves just aren¡¯t right.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re too hard on yourself, Chair. It looks almost like a photo, and I really do think it¡¯s your best one yet. She¡¯s going to love it just like she loves all your paintings.¡±


    Charity rolled her eyes in response. She was grateful for her friend¡¯s earnest praise, but it did not prevent her from feeling disappointed about the minute mistakes. She wanted to give the painting to her mother as an early birthday present, but she wanted it to be perfect. Unfortunately, time had betrayed her, and she could not make any other corrections today. The sun was setting, and curfew was fast approaching.


    Although Charity was not afraid of many things, being out past curfew was not something she wanted to experience. According to her father, King Abaddon had enacted the curfew to keep people safe from the various monsters that roamed the mountains at night. Charity was not sure how much of that she believed, but it was not a matter of which she wished to test its validity.


    ¡°Did you really come all of the way up here just to immediately turn around and have to come back down? You could have just called me,¡± Charity asked as she packed her belongings and began walking back to the base of the mountain with Leah in tow.


    Leah rolled her eyes before handing Charity a small, silver phone. ¡°You left this in the car again.¡±


    Charity laughed and carelessly tossed her phone on top of her art supplies before closing her bag. Without another word, the two made the trek down the mountain and entered Charity¡¯s small car. After a short drive, Charity and Leah returned to their shared two-bedroom apartment, which was small but welcoming. A single couch and small coffee table adorned their living and dining area, and just a few steps down the hall, both girls'' small rooms were lightly decorated in styles that truly suited them. Leah¡¯s room was decorated in white and plain shades, and it was always clean and organized without even a single piece of paper out of place. Charity¡¯s room, on the other hand, was covered in art supplies and unorganized piles of various projects. Greens, blues, pinks, and other vibrant hues were found not only in her choice of decorative pillows but also in splattered yet intentional positions on the wall. These added life to what Charity felt was an otherwise dull living space.


    Upon entering her room, Charity set the painting on her easel and stared at it, noting areas she wanted to fix before presenting it to her mother later that week. Charity considered her mother her greatest inspiration and wanted to be sure that the piece she was given was Charity¡¯s best work. As she turned away from the easel, Charity picked up the photo that was sitting on her nightstand and smiled back at the happy family frozen in time.


    This simple portrait of Charity and her parents was her most cherished possession. She observed the similarities between her mother and herself. From the long, untamable, brown hair to the short stature and olive-toned skin, and even to the joyous smile that stretched across both of their faces, the two ladies in the photo were nearly indistinguishable. The only two differences were the more defined wrinkles and smile lines on her mother and the color of their eyes. Charity had her father¡¯s emerald, green eyes rather than her mother¡¯s chocolate brown.


    Her father¡¯s image greatly contrasted with Charity¡¯s and her mother¡¯s. His large stature, round body, red hair, and freckled skin looked almost out of place when compared to the two women beside him. However, despite all the differences in appearance, it was clear that the three people in the photograph were very happy together. Charity was thankful for her loving family and, even as a young adult living on her own, still cherished her parents¡¯ teachings and advice.


    After setting down the picture, Charity walked over to her window and gazed at the night sky. Stars peppered the black canvas in an immeasurable amount despite the moon''s incredibly bright and immense appearance. Charity would often find herself mesmerized by the starry night sky, so sitting at her window every night--and even occasionally falling asleep at her place on the windowsill--was quite a common practice. Tonight was no exception, and Charity found herself drifting to sleep as her forehead rested comfortably against the cold glass.


    Dead leaves crunched under Charity¡¯s feet as she traveled through the dark mountain forest. She walked for quite some time before stopping dead in her tracks. Charity was paralyzed in fear as she spotted her mother lying on her back struggling to breathe. Dark crimson liquid flowed from an open gash on her neck, and a terrifying creature with ghastly red eyes and a decaying face stood over her.


    ¡°Find it, Charity!¡± Her mother cried from the cold forest floor. ¡°Find it and keep it safe.¡±


    Blood pooled around Rose as she pleaded with her daughter. Charity watched helplessly as the creature raised its grotesque, rotten hand. She gasped as she saw the black talons glint in the moonlight. Within seconds, those claws struck her mother¡¯s abdomen. Life left Rose¡¯s body faster than Charity could have blinked.


    ¡°NO!¡± Charity screamed.


    She awoke in a cold sweat with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her heart hammered against her ribs, the image of her mother''s lifeless face seared into her mind. She gasped for breath, her lungs burning as if she''d been running for miles. She buried her face in her hands and tried to calm herself.


    ¡°It was just a dream,¡± she whispered repeatedly, her voice cracking more each time. She stood up and began pacing her room. It was still dark outside, and Charity was sure there were still several hours before the sun rose once again.

 The Transfer I

    Charity yawned loudly and rubbed her weary eyes. The nightmare she had experienced kept her awake through the night, and she now found herself struggling to keep focus at work. The warmly lit office, gentle sounds of a ticking clock, and her comfy leather chair all seemed to invite Charity to fall into a deep sleep despite knowing she couldn¡¯t. She stared vacantly at the document before her, confident she had read the same sentence twice.


    ¡°Long night?¡± Peter asked as he handed his daughter a steaming cup.


    ¡°Very,¡± Charity mumbled, graciously accepting her father¡¯s gift. She breathed in the enticing aroma of the bitter coffee mixed with sweetened cream and gingerly took her first sip, sighing as the warm, brown liquid raced toward her empty stomach.


    ¡°You could have just asked to come in late, you know,¡± Peter remarked, a slight chuckle escaping his bearded lips.


    ¡°And have more comments from the other interns about nepotism? I¡¯ll pass.¡±


    Peter laughed at Charity¡¯s candidness before shaking his head in disapproval. ¡°It¡¯s not nepotism. You worked hard and scored better than anyone else on the qualifying exam.¡±


    ¡°Dad,¡± Charity laughed, ¡°it is nepotism, at least a little. There were fifty interns that were accepted at the same time I was. Many of them have proven to be incredible assets in the political sphere well before we even took that exam. Yet I somehow managed to become the personal assistant of the most powerful human in Exoneron, who also just happens to be my father, despite my only exceptional achievement being a single high-scoring grade on a test. Seems like I had a bit of an advantage.¡±


    ¡°Charity,¡± Peter sighed. ¡°That¡¯s not entirely true.¡±


    ¡°Dad,¡± Charity retorted, ¡°You know it is. You¡¯re not only the ambassador of Caladun. You¡¯re the head of the high council. The people you answer to aren¡¯t even people. They¡¯re the Elite¡ªcrazy, powerful, immortal soldiers most people only read about in history books¡ªand you¡¯re one of the only four people alive that are allowed to even see them in person. Anyone would kill for this position, or work their entire lives just to be able to have a meeting with you. Yet here I am as an intern, spending all my working hours managing your schedule.¡±


    Peter blushed, unsure of how to respond. While what Charity said was true, Peter despised being reminded of his high status and power. He carried himself humbly and preferred to remain unseen; however, his many years of faithful, honest service in Exoneron¡¯s politics pushed him through the ranks and into the position he holds today. He began his career as an intern, serving council members in whatever measly errands they would give him, much like Charity and many of her peers currently do.


    Then in just a few short years, he became a member of the sitting council, which put him in charge of various cities within Caladun, Exoneron¡¯s northern mountain territory. While Peter was content remaining a sitting council member, Caladun¡¯s citizens practically pushed him to become Caladun¡¯s ambassador among the high council the moment the position became available due to his genuine, humble demeanor and servant-like attitude.


    That was a promotion that Peter did not take lightly. There were only four high council members in all of Exoneron, one from each of Exoneron¡¯s districts: the immense mountains of Caladun in the North, the salty seas of Piscina in the west, the grand cities of Megalopolis in the south, and the vast forests of Saltas in the east. To be promoted by his fellow citizens to such a prestigious position was a great honor that also involved great sacrifice.


    Serving in the high council meant swearing an oath to faithfully serve King Abaddon, the Elite, and the people of Exoneron for the rest of his life. He understood it meant learning secrets he could never tell his wife or daughter and that to break his oath meant death, not only for him but also for his family. He humbly accepted and faithfully served, giving his all to his country and king. Then just last year, the head of the high council, the former ambassador of Saltus, passed away. When that happened, Peter was unanimously voted as his replacement by the other high council members.


    Charity grew up watching her father¡¯s career and how his humility and compassion seemed to catapult him to a position as coveted as the high chairman of all Exoneron: head of the high council and the single most powerful human in the country. She always admired her father. He was faithful to a fault and the most humble man she knew. He devoted his life to serving others, and she desired to have the same golden heart he did. That desire drew her to follow in his footsteps, despite her hatred of the monotonous work she now experienced in her day-to-day life as an intern. She wanted to make a difference for people not as fortunate as she had been, even if it meant doing so one paper at a time.


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    She shuffled her papers and listened to her father¡¯s footsteps softly press against the soft carpet as he walked away. Quietness filled the room as Peter sat behind his mahogany desk. He began sorting through files and budgets he needed to review and approve before his meeting with various council members. Slowly, the gentle tick-tocking of the clock and soft scratching of pens were the only sounds heard in the high chairman¡¯s grand office.


    ¡°Hey, Dad, you have a schedule conflict today,¡± Charity said without looking up from her work, her voice disrupting the peaceful quiet that had settled soundly between them.


    ¡°What¡¯s the issue?¡±


    ¡°You have an interview with a new transfer from the Megalopolis office and a meeting with Mr. August Finch to discuss the mountain miner¡¯s winter budget both scheduled at nine o¡¯clock.¡±


    Peter thought for a moment then replied, ¡°I can¡¯t reschedule with Finch. That budget needs to be set today. You can handle the interview with the new transfer for me.¡±


    ¡°I can what?¡± Charity said in disbelief, looking up at her father to see if he was joking.


    ¡°You heard me,¡± Peter smirked, not meeting the glare he knew his daughter was giving him.


    ¡°Dad, that¡¯s not fair! You know I hate interviewing people, and I¡¯m an intern! I¡¯m not supposed to interview transfers.¡±


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you the one that reminded me just a minute ago that I answer to no one? If I say you can interview the transfer, then you can do just that,¡± Peter replied smugly as he crossed his arms and gave Charity a broad smile.


    ¡°Dad,¡± Charity groaned. Peter couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. He leaned back casually in his chair, his eyes flipping from his frustrated daughter to the crystal clock. As he did, he noticed it was nearly time for the first of many meetings that day. He quickly gathered his papers and walked toward the door, leaving Charity to mumble in agitation alone.


    ¡°Good luck!¡± He shouted gleefully, closing the door behind him.


    As silence filled the room once more, Charity¡¯s mind began to race. She could not understand how such a mistake could have even occurred. She was always incredibly meticulous with her father¡¯s schedule and careful to never double book him. She even recalled checking the schedule before she left work yesterday and had only seen his meeting with Mr. Finch. Eventually, she shook her head, resignation filling her mind as she concluded it surely must have all been a mistake on her end, and now she was facing the consequences of her carelessness.


    Charity sat pouting for only a moment before she heard a firm knock on the office door. She sighed once more, telling herself that regardless of how it happened, the transfer was here, and she now had to deal with it. She cleared her throat, straightened her skirt, and did her best to fix her unruly hair before shouting, ¡°Come in!¡± in her most professional tone.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± said a deep, cheerful voice from the entryway.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± Charity replied, looking up to greet the newcomer. Her breath hitched as she met the icy, blue eyes of the incredibly large man approaching her desk. He was tall, easily standing a head and shoulders above anyone she had ever met before. His short, blonde hair was neatly groomed, and his shirt and dress pants didn¡¯t have a single wrinkle. His tan skin, calloused hands, and strong arms contrasted greatly with the preconceived image of an old, pencil-pushing office man she had concocted in her mind. The man before her looked like someone familiar with hard work and manual labor, which was not typical for political transfers.


    She was simultaneously perplexed and fascinated. It seemed that everything about him, even down to the confident stride in his approach, was different from the typical demeanor she usually encountered. Even the lengthy list of accomplishments Charity saw in his file could have easily been for someone ten years her senior, yet seeing him now, it was clear he was only around her age. The man approaching her desk was truly an enigma, and she desired to learn more.


    He smiled broadly and extended a cup similar to the one her father had given her earlier. She happily took the beverage from his hands and sipped, the additional caffeine helping to ebb the encroaching exhaustion. The newcomer chuckled at her excited expression before sitting across from Charity. His calm demeanor and sly smile tugged at Charity¡¯s curiosity, practically begging her to learn more.


    ¡°My name is Andrew Stallard, though I¡¯m assuming you knew that already,¡± he said in a deep tone that rumbled from within his chest.

 The Transfer II

    ¡°Yes, you¡¯re the new transfer from the Megalopolis, right? I¡¯m Charity. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you,¡± she said, extending a hand that Andrew confidently took.


    ¡°The pleasure is all mine, ma¡¯am. Though I must admit, I¡¯m a bit confused. I was told I¡¯d be meeting with the high chairman. Is he not in today?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s currently in a meeting that couldn¡¯t be postponed, so I¡¯ll be conducting your intake interview,¡± Charity responded, ¡°I hope that¡¯s okay.¡±


    ¡°I suppose,¡± Andrew smiled, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head.


    Charity felt her cheeks grow warm and quickly averted Andrew¡¯s gaze. She was attracted to him, of that she had no doubt, and his casual responses and enigmatic personality made it hard for her to focus. She used Andrew¡¯s intake form to cover her reddened face, though she could still feel his piercing blue eyes staring at her through the thin paper.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re a Megalopolis native?¡± Charity asked without removing her gaze from the form.


    ¡°Actually, I was born here and moved to Megalopolis when I was young. I finished school there early and started working in the council hall as an intern almost immediately.¡±


    ¡°What made you want to transfer?¡± Charity asked, finally setting the form down as the heat in her face subsided.


    ¡°I just wanted to come back to my roots,¡± Andrew replied with a shrug.


    Charity looked up inquisitively. His answer was unsatisfying, and she felt there must be something more. While Charity loved her home, people rarely requested a transfer to Caladun: a place that offered nothing but miners, mountains, and monsters. More opportunities were usually found in the other three districts, especially in Megalopolis, where city lights were said to rival the very stars in the sky.


    ¡°Is that really the only reason?¡± Charity inquired, skepticism etched into her voice.


    ¡°Professionally, yes. Personally, no.¡±


    Charity pursed her lips. She wanted to inquire more but knew her father wouldn¡¯t approve of prying into the personal lives of employees during an interview, beyond what was necessary of course.


    ¡°Your face doesn¡¯t hide much, you know?¡± Andrew laughed. ¡°If you want to ask me, just ask.¡± He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. A smile stretched across his face as his eyes met Charity¡¯s gaze.


    Charity bit her lip. Excitement and curiosity threatened to spill over, and she knew wouldn¡¯t be able to stop herself. ¡°Why are you really here?¡± she asked expectantly, her emerald eyes brimming with wonder.


    ¡°I owe someone a debt,¡± Andrew replied.


    ¡°That sounds vague and ominous,¡± Charity rolled her eyes. Her curiosity was left unsatisfied, and she was annoyed. Andrew laughed once again. He seemed to enjoy watching Charity¡¯s animated expressions.


    After a moment, Charity sighed in resignation, realizing that Andrew would not be expounding further.


    ¡°What is it you hope to gain from working in this office?¡± She asked, continuing the interview in the most formal tone she could muster.


    ¡°Experience,¡± Andrew shrugged, ¡°Some of the longest-lasting council members come from this territory. I¡¯d like to learn from them.¡±


    ¡°If you could choose which council member you were assigned to, would you have a preference?¡±


    ¡°Not particularly, but there are plenty of people I¡¯d be interested in learning from, like your father,¡± Andrew teased, pointedly uttering the last two words while giving Charity an expression that made her feel he could see straight through her.


    ¡°How did you know he was my father? I never even gave you my last name,¡± Charity was perplexed. She intentionally avoided providing her surname to hopefully prevent Andrew from assuming she held any relation to the high chairman. It was a common practice she did with newcomers, so she could determine whether they were being genuine with her or simply attempting to gain favor in order to get near her father.


    ¡°Is that one of the intake questions?¡± Andrew joked. Charity rolled her eyes again and pressed her lips into a thin line. He was toying with her, and she didn¡¯t like it. She made no reply and chose to glare at him instead.


    ¡°I do my research,¡± he shrugged.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you,¡± Charity replied curtly.


    ¡°I¡¯m telling the truth,¡± Andrew said as he threw up his hands in defense. ¡°Although, it did help that there¡¯s a guy across the hall who filled me in on who you were before I met with you this morning. Tall. Brown hair. A little too obsessed with your dad.¡±


    Charity groaned and rubbed her face. ¡°It was Jake, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He seemed a little possessive of you. Is he-?¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t finish that,¡± Charity interrupted and rubbed her temples. ¡°We dated for some time before we were hired as interns, but things didn¡¯t work out between us.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that,¡± Andrew responded. His lips twitched as he stifled a smile¡ªa movement that happened so subtly, Charity did not notice.


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    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be. He¡¯s a jerk, and I¡¯m happier without him,¡± Charity replied in a matter-of-fact tone.


    Andrew laughed loudly. ¡°Your candidness is admirable, albeit a bit unprofessional.¡±


    Charity simply shrugged before returning her attention to the intake form and chiding herself for getting so off track. She had several questions she had to ask, but time was wearing thin. Her father would not be happy if this form was left incomplete.


    As though he could read her mind, Andrew stated, ¡°You know, I haven¡¯t had a chance to tour the building yet. Maybe you could bring that along and ask me questions while you show me around?¡±


    ¡°Bold of you to assume I would be conducting your tour,¡± Charity retorted jokingly, even though she liked the idea and had already decided to go along with it.


    As if on cue, Peter walked into the office. Andrew stood to greet him, and Charity quickly tucked the unfinished form in a file so that her father couldn¡¯t see it. ¡°How was your meeting?¡± she asked nonchalantly.


    ¡°Typical. Monotonous but efficient,¡± he replied, extending his hand to greet Andrew. ¡°How about yours?¡± Peter asked Andrew, ¡°Do you have anything you¡¯d like to ask me?¡±


    ¡°No, sir,¡± Andrew replied politely, ¡°your assistant did a fantastic job. She actually offered to give me a tour of the facility.¡±


    ¡°She did?¡± Peter said, surprised by his daughter¡¯s apparent hospitality. ¡°Well then, don¡¯t let me stop you.¡± Peter made a face at Charity. His eyebrows were raised to an almost comical height, and he gave her a subtle thumbs up as Andrew turned toward the door. Charity stifled a laugh and waved goodbye to her father.


    The moment the door clicked closed, Charity heard someone¡¯s throat clear. The voice was not quite as deep as Andrew¡¯s, and Charity recognized it instantly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She did her best to maintain a professional demeanor and turned to face the last person she wished to encounter.


    ¡°Hello, Mr. Adder,¡± Charity said with a smile.


    Disappointment etched across Jake¡¯s face as he heard Charity¡¯s greeting, ¡°Charity, you don¡¯t have to be so formal with me.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I do. Outside of work, I want nothing to do with you and wish to remain professional with each other when these types of encounters unavoidably occur,¡± she retorted, lacing her words with venom while still maintaining a professional smile. ¡°Now, unless you have something business-related to speak to me about, I have something important I need to attend to.¡±


    Jake¡¯s eyes narrowed. There was more he wished to say, but he chose to remain silent, knowing now was not the time. ¡°I actually have a meeting with your father, so if you don¡¯t mind,¡± he spat, gesturing toward the door behind Charity. She glared at him as he passed. He stopped just before entering to shake hands with Andrew, as if the awkward exchange Jake just had with Charity didn¡¯t occur.


    Charity watched the interaction and found it a bit amusing how much taller Andrew was than even Jake, a person who enjoyed looking down on people both figuratively and literally.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t awkward at all,¡± Andrew said sarcastically once he and Charity were alone.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that,¡± Charity sighed as they began walking down the long corridor.


    ¡°Do you want to talk about what happened?¡± Andrew asked.


    ¡°There isn¡¯t really much worth mentioning. We were together for a few years when we were studying to be interns, and one day I realized he was only using me to get close to my father. He¡¯s also a narcissistic prick, so I ended things, much to his and my father¡¯s displeasure,¡± Charity replied.


    Andrew laughed and chose not to pry anymore. A comfortable silence filled the air as Charity ushered Andrew to the building¡¯s main hub: a massive circular room with hallways branching off in various directions. Feeling exhausted and slightly dehydrated, Charity did not stop walking until she and Andrew had reached a small break room in a hall opposite the one they had just exited. She set the files down on a small table and made herself another cup of coffee. She rubbed her tired eyes and sighed heavily as she placed herself in the chair opposite Andrew.


    ¡°Long night?¡± Andrew inquired.


    ¡°You could say that,¡± Charity yawned. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t show you anything on the way here, but I¡¯ll give you a proper tour once we actually finish your interview.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind,¡± Andrew replied.


    Charity observed Andrew between her sips of coffee. She had always considered herself as a person who could talk to and make friends with anyone. She rarely found herself uncomfortable in social situations and could usually read and understand people quite well. However, there was something different about Andrew.


    Conversation was easy, and he seemed kind and considerate, but he was impossible to understand, more so than anyone else she had ever met. It was clear he was hiding something. His composed face and mysterious answers drove Charity mad with curiosity. He was like a puzzle with missing pieces, and Charity was not sure what the final picture would be.


    ¡°Do you have any family here, Andrew?¡± Charity asked, caving into curiosity. For a moment, Andrew¡¯s composure changed. Charity saw sadness in his eyes, yet it was quickly replaced with the guarded, calm demeanor he had been wearing all morning.


    ¡°No, I came here on my own,¡± he replied calmly. ¡°What about you? Aside from the high chairman, of course.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just me, my dad, and my mom. I don¡¯t have any other family,¡± she answered in a tone that matched Andrew¡¯s as she took another sip of coffee.


    ¡°You seem pretty close with your dad,¡± Andrew remarked.


    ¡°I am with both my parents. I¡¯m really thankful for them. My dad and I don¡¯t always see eye to eye, but he¡¯s a good man who I really admire.¡±


    ¡°What about your mom?¡± Andrew asked, resting his arms on the table and leaning closer toward Charity, clearly interested in what she had to say.


    ¡°She¡¯s the kindest, most sincere person I¡¯ve ever met. I hope I can be half the woman she is one day.¡±


    Andrew flinched, and Charity looked at him inquisitively, but he asked another question before she could think much of it.


    ¡°So, I take it you talk with her a lot?¡±


    ¡°Usually, but she¡¯s away on a camping trip right now. She has a group of friends she goes with every few weeks, but why are you so curious about my family?¡± Charity furrowed her brow. She was used to people asking her questions about her father, but not many desired to know much beyond that. People rarely cared about her or her mother, or they only feigned curiosity for a short while in hopes of gaining favor with her father. Charity hoped Andrew would not prove to do the latter.


    ¡°Just getting to know you better,¡± Andrew replied with a shrug.


    ¡°Why?¡± Charity asked skeptically.


    Andrew laughed, ¡°I can¡¯t just want to know you more? You seem like a great person.¡± He smiled warmly.


    Charity rolled her eyes and raised her coffee cup to cover the slight pink that had crept onto her cheeks. She did not fully believe his answer, yet she could not deny she was intrigued. The more they talked, the more of a mystery Andrew became. Charity despised the unknown and wished to understand who this new transfer really was and why he was really there. Not to mention the fact that she found herself more attracted to him with each passing moment.


    ¡°Alright, Andrew,¡± Charity said as she set her coffee cup down, determination twinkling in her eyes, ¡°if you really want to get to know me, take me to dinner. Two nights from now.¡±


    Andrew grinned, and for a moment, Charity thought she saw a twinge of nervous excitement creep onto his face. ¡°I¡¯ll pick you up at eight,¡± he replied.

 Reality I

    The workday dragged on. After finalizing dinner plans with Andrew, Charity rushed home, her thoughts already turning towards their evening together. Her heels clanged against the ground loudly as she ripped them off the moment she opened her apartment door, breathing a sigh of relief as her curls loosened from the tight band she had used to restrain them.


    Leah came to greet her with a warm cup of tea, and the two began to recount their day, a tradition they did practically every night. Leah worked as a nurse, and Charity listened intently as she told her stories regarding several of the patients she helped that day, from a young child with a scraped knee to an elderly gentleman who required intensive care. When Leah finished, Charity instantly began speaking of Andrew, a new and intriguing person who brought color to her otherwise gray day and the excitement she felt about going to dinner with him later on.


    ¡°Are you out of your mind?¡±  Leah, always exasperated by Charity''s impulsive nature, threw her hands up in the air. Her response only caused Charity to laugh loudly, a broad smile overtaking her face.


    ¡°Relax, Leah,¡± she said, still laughing, ¡°Andrew and I are just going to dinner.¡±


    ¡°But you told a complete stranger where we live!¡± Leah rubbed her hand along her face and groaned. ¡°I don''t understand how you could be so nonchalant about this. You¡¯ve never met this guy before today, and you were crazy enough to not only request he take you to dinner but also to give him our address? I don¡¯t get you, Charity. I love you, but that¡¯s insane.¡±


    Charity shrugged, unmoved by her friend¡¯s statement. ¡°It¡¯s only insane to you. If it were up to you, neither of us would ever leave this apartment.¡±


    Leah shook her head, and Charity giggled once more before turning her attention to the dusty orange hues peering through their living room window. Charity sighed sleepily, thankful that the day was over while also wondering what tomorrow may bring. She sipped the warm, chamomile tea and enjoyed Leah¡¯s company until the cup was empty.


    Exhaustion came upon her like a heavy blanket, and Charity made her way to her room, each step becoming harder than the next as though her feet were made of lead. Too tired to change her clothes, Charity crashed into the pillow the moment she opened her door. One last deep, sleepy sigh left her chest before she finally succumbed to the drowsiness that had chased her all day. Darkness, however, offered no solace as a familiar nightmare unfurled, its icy tendrils snaking around her.


    White vapor escaped Charity¡¯s lips as she ran. She was not sure where she was going or what she was running from, but she knew she could not stop. Each crunch of leaves sent shockwaves of anxiety through her limbs. A tree crashed down. Before her, a woman lay still on the ground.


    She gasped, realizing the woman was her mother. Terror rooted Charity to the spot. It was as if her legs were encased in ice. Rose scrambled to her feet and threw what appeared to be an odd, rectangular box into a distant tree. Before Charity could find the exact location of the strange object, a horrifying creature appeared. It looked unnatural, as though it should have died centuries ago. Its melting flesh and exposed organs made it seem as though it had just walked out of its own grave, and the sickening stench of decay twisted her stomach into knots.


    Frozen in terror, she couldn''t scream, couldn''t even blink, her eyes locked on the horrific scene unfolding before her. Hot tears streaked down Charity¡¯s cold cheeks as Rose¡¯s body crumpled to the ground. Two more figures emerged from the shadows, their grotesque forms sending shivers down Charity''s spine. One reached for her mother¡¯s stomach, and its talons cut through Rose¡¯s flesh as quickly as one could cut through butter.


    A burning stream of fresh tears raced down her face. She wished she could scream, run to her mother¡¯s side, do anything; yet she remained fixed firmly in the same spot, a fresh blanket of snow covering her feet. Her body trembled, but neither her voice nor her legs could escape. She couldn¡¯t look away from her mother¡¯s mangled corpse as it laid in a pool of its own blood beneath the murderous monsters. She couldn¡¯t even wipe the salty streams that burned her cheeks in the bitter cold.


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    Then, without warning, one of the creatures looked directly at her. Its red eyes burned brightly, as if hell itself lived in its pupils.


    ¡°No!¡± Charity screamed, jumping from her bed. She hugged herself tightly and tried to stop her body from quivering. Her face was wet with tears that had fallen during her terror-inducing experience.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a dream,¡± she kept repeating. Yet no matter how many times she told herself that, the sense of unease twisted into a cold knot within the pit of her stomach. Those horrendous eyes were burned into her mind¡¯s eye, and she could not stop thinking of her mother¡¯s death. She breathed out a shaky, frustrated sigh and resigned herself to another sleepless night.


    Charity tiptoed to the kitchen and made herself a glass of water before walking to the window she had glanced out of just hours before. The cool mountain air emanated from the thin glass and kissed her skin, leaving a tingling sensation along her tear-stained cheeks. Gleaming stars filled the black sky, and Charity breathed deeply, feeling her racing heart finally begin to slow as she took in the twilight landscape. However, the moment her eyes landed on the dark silhouette of what should have only been a dense, black forest; dread washed over her, chasing away any lingering peace.


    Rather than seeing a familiar outline of trees, she locked eyes with the same crimson orbs that had haunted her in her dreams. Her breathing stopped, her skin paled, and all sense of reason escaped her. Were they moving? Was this real? Could they see her? She could not discern the difference between reality and imagination. She started shaking uncontrollably and did not know what to do. A mere second felt like an eternity, and she stood there, helpless and trembling with neither an understanding of reality nor any ability to move her body.


    When frozen terror melted away, sensation flooded back into her limbs, allowing her to move. She stumbled backward, shattering the cup and cutting her hand on the broken glass.. The commotion was enough to wake her roommate, who came running into the living room.


    ¡°Charity!¡± Leah gasped.


    ¡°I¡¯m...¡± Charity tried to inform her friend she was alright, but she could not form the words. Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing would come out. She continued trembling and holding her bleeding hand while fear-filled tears streamed down her flushed face.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Leah said, pulling Charity from the floor and directing her to the couch. With practiced efficiency, Leah cleaned and bandaged Charity¡¯s wound. She then quickly cleaned the splattered mess of blood, water, and glass before returning to the couch to sit beside Charity. Leah said nothing, waiting patiently for Charity to speak or show signs of needing something else.


    Charity was overwhelmed. Between the horrific dreams, the lack of sleep, and the awful, glowing eyes that now haunted her in her waking hours; she was not sure what to think, feel, or do. Could this mean her dreams were real? Are those terrible creatures real? Is her mother dead or in trouble? The room was spinning. She feared she may throw up.


    Leah gently wiped the tears off of Charity¡¯s face while Charity tried to calm her racing mind. Leah sat and watched her friend attentively, but Charity continued to keep her head down, afraid to see the same eyes still watching her.


    ¡°Leah,¡± Charity whispered, her voice still quivering, ¡°can you tell me what you see outside?¡±


    Without hesitation or questioning Charity¡¯s peculiar request, Leah got up and walked to the window, ¡°Nothing out of the ordinary. There¡¯s just some trees and a few stars. Should I be seeing something different?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Charity whispered.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Leah asked.


    ¡°I just¡­ thought I saw something. I¡¯m sorry for waking you.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to apologize for that, Charity!¡± Leah said, ¡°What were you doing up so late to begin with?¡±


    ¡°I just had a bad dream,¡± Charity said, hoping Leah wouldn¡¯t push.


    ¡°Is that all?¡± Leah asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s all. At least for right now.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Leah pulled Charity into an embrace. ¡°Do you want me to stay with you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Charity said as she shook her head, ¡°I¡¯ll be okay. Please go back to sleep.¡±


    Leah gave her friend one last squeeze and returned to her room. Charity curled her knees into her chest and held her aching hand. How badly she wished she could reach her mother and ensure that everything was alright. The ominous feeling in her gut was agonizing, and the fear of what may be watching her made her quiver once more. She sat on the couch, unmoving, and waited for the first hues of sunrise to paint her living room floor.


    Were those creatures real? Charity thought. Does that mean Mom is¡­? She shook her head. Surely, it was some exhaustion-induced hallucination. Surely, her mother is perfectly fine, and this would be something they could all laugh about once she returned from her camping trip. Right?

 Reality II

    While the morning may have melted away Charity¡¯s fears from the night, it did little to abate the sleep deprivation now holding her hostage or the dread still sitting heavily in her gut. As if on cue, Leah came out and began brewing a fresh pot of coffee before running to check on Charity.


    ¡°You look exhausted,¡± Leah said sympathetically.


    ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯ll be okay,¡± Charity replied reassuringly.


    Once Leah checked and redressed Charity¡¯s bandages, she uttered a small goodbye and left for her morning shift at the hospital. Charity begrudgingly began her typical morning routine, giving herself a small pep talk that she hoped would help her make it through the day. She drove to the office in silence and did her best to sneak to her desk inconspicuously so that she would not have to stop and have small talk with any of the interns who liked to linger in the hallways in hopes of being noticed by council members.


    A sigh of relief escaped her lips the moment she heard the office door click closed behind her.  She began her usual routine of organizing important files for her father¡¯s meetings and ensuring his daily schedule was without issue prior to his arrival. Suddenly, a gentle knock resounded on the wooden door, and Charity uttered, ¡°Come in,¡± without looking up from her work.


    ¡°Good morning, Ms. Charity,¡± Andrew greeted her warmly as he walked toward her desk with two steaming cups of coffee.


    ¡°How did you know I needed this?¡± Charity asked, graciously accepting the cup.


    ¡°After watching you down three cups in two hours yesterday, I figured it was a safe assumption,¡± Andrew shrugged.


    ¡°I don¡¯t usually drink that much,¡± she said defensively, her cheeks growing warm. ¡°I just hadn¡¯t slept and was trying to make it through the day. I don¡¯t do well without a good night¡¯s rest.¡±


    ¡°What happened to your hand?¡± Andrew asked with concern. He grabbed Charity¡¯s bandaged hand and gently ran his finger over it, as if examining both the quality of Leah¡¯s work and the extent of Charity¡¯s injury.


    Charity sighed and bit her lip, her gaze flickering to his hand on hers. Could she trust him? A flicker of Leah''s cautious voice echoed in her mind, but something in Andrew''s eyes, something disarming, made her want to believe him.


    Perhaps Andrew could be a friend. Perhaps he wished to only use her to get to her father like so many have before. In either case, the only way to find out his true intention was to trust him now and see what the future may hold.


    ¡°I got scared and fell, and I broke my hand on some shattered glass,¡± she explained. ¡°Honestly, it¡¯s not a big deal, and I feel silly even thinking about it. It was because of some stupid dream I keep having.¡±


    ¡°A dream?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know it sounds a bit ridiculous. When I wake up, I can¡¯t get it out of my head, and I can¡¯t go back to sleep.¡±


    ¡°What happens in this dream?¡± Andrew leaned closer to Charity while still gently holding her injured hand.


    ¡°Well,¡± Charity began, ¡°I¡¯m running through this really dense forest in the middle of the night, and I stop when I see my mom laying on the ground. These¡­ these awful c-creatures, th-they¡­¡± Charity struggled. She thought she was over the events of last night, but they resurfaced the moment she tried to recount the horrific events. She felt tears begin to well, and she did her best to stop them.


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    ¡°Hey,¡± Andrew said, wiping the tears that escaped her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s okay. You¡¯re okay.¡±


    Charity nodded and took a few deep breaths before continuing. ¡°I see my mom die,¡± she whispered, looking down and doing her best to swallow the ball in her throat.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, embarrassed to be so emotional in front of someone she hardly knew, ¡°I know it¡¯s dumb of me to be so bent out of shape about a stupid dream. It just feels so real. I haven¡¯t slept in two nights, and now I think the sleep deprivation is getting to me. I might even be hallucinating.¡± Charity attempted to laugh at herself to make the situation less tense, but the worry still echoed in every forced syllable. ¡°Last night, after I woke up, I saw these glowing red eyes out of my window-¡±


    ¡°You saw red eyes?¡± Andrew asked, his voice laced with tension.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Charity responded, not noticing Andrew¡¯s change in expression. ¡°It sounds ridiculous, right?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Andrew stated firmly.


    ¡°What?¡± Charity was confused.


    ¡°Charity, you can¡¯t go home tonight,¡± Andrew¡¯s usually calm words were filled with an anxious tension.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± She replied, pulling her hand away from his. His tone was beginning to scare her.


    ¡°I can¡¯t explain much while we¡¯re here. Just please promise me you¡¯ll stay somewhere else tonight,¡± he pleaded.


    ¡°No,¡± Charity replied, ¡°I don¡¯t know what I saw, and you don¡¯t know me well enough to tell me what I can and can¡¯t do.¡±


    ¡°Charity, please. Just trust me,¡± Andrew pleaded, ¡°I¡¯ll explain everything tomorrow night when we¡¯re away from here.¡±


    ¡°Why? What¡¯s so bad you can¡¯t tell me now?¡± Charity was getting angry. She didn¡¯t like Andrew¡¯s secrecy, and she didn¡¯t like people making demands of her.


    Andrew hurriedly snatched a pen from Charity¡¯s desk and scribbled a note onto her hot pink notepad. He handed it to Charity, desperation prevalent in his icy blue eyes.


    They¡¯re watching.


    The note made Charity¡¯s resolve quiver, but she still did not want to give in to Andrew¡¯s request so easily.


    ¡°Even if I did want to stay away from my home, which I don¡¯t, what about Leah? You make it sound like something horrible will happen tonight just because I thought I saw something that I¡¯m not even convinced is real!¡±


    ¡°Charity, please,¡± Andrew said, trying to get her to calm down.


    Charity glared at him, waiting for an explanation. Andrew, accepting the fact that Charity would not listen, looked for a way to diffuse the situation and decided to change the subject.


    ¡°Where¡¯s your father?¡± Andrew asked.


    Charity let out a frustrated breath but chose not to push Andrew further, at least for now. She glanced at the clock, and her eyes widened. It was an hour past her father¡¯s usual arrival time, and he was nowhere to be found. It was not like him to be late.


    ¡°He¡­ he should be here by now,¡± she muttered, furrowing her brows. She began biting her thumb, contemplating where he could possibly be.


    ¡°Maybe he¡¯s sick?¡± Andrew said.


    ¡°No, he¡¯s never taken a sick day. He even came in the same day he broke his arm.¡±


    Charity got up and began pacing. Worry was slowly creeping in. Andrew watched her in silence, waiting to hear what conclusion she may have.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t right,¡± Charity said. ¡°This isn¡¯t him. Something¡¯s wrong.¡± A sense of dread fell over her, the same dreadful feeling that clung to her like a wet coat after she awoke from her vivid dreams the past two nights.


    Charity stopped dead in her tracks. What if it really isn¡¯t just a dream? She thought. The awful feeling in her gut grew greater. She hurriedly grabbed her phone out of her bag, her fingers shaking as she turned on the screen. Five missed calls. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she dialed his number, the ringing tone echoing the growing dread in her chest. No answer. A wave of nausea surged through her.


    ¡°I have to go,¡± she said, her eyes full of fear.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Andrew called, grabbing her wrist. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I just need to make sure he¡¯s alright. He isn¡¯t answering his phone, so I¡¯m just going to run by my parent¡¯s house, check in on dad, and come back,¡± she said, her voice shaking.


    ¡°Can I drive you?¡± Andrew asked.

 Reality III

    Charity initially wanted to decline, but the overwhelming worry and lack of sleep helped her realize it may be better to accept his gracious offer. She agreed, and the two made their way to the parking lot where a rusted, timeworn truck awaited them. Charity was surprised to see that Andrew drove such an old vehicle and even more surprised to see it kept in such good condition, given its mileage. She glanced at Andrew, who had already opened the passenger door for her. Why would someone with so many achievements choose such a modest vehicle? But the worry for her parents quickly eclipsed her curiosity. She needed to focus on them, on making sure her fears were unfounded.


    Silence hung heavily in the car, broken only by the occasional direction from Charity and the insistent trill of her phone as she repeatedly tried calling her father. Andrew drove, glancing at her tense posture each time the call went unanswered, acutely aware of Charity¡¯s every fidget and sigh. The house, when they finally reached it, was a small, unassuming brick structure dwarfed by the immense oak tree in the front yard.


    Charity leapt out of the truck without waiting for Andrew to bring it to a complete stop and ran toward an old screen door. Andrew followed quickly and managed to catch up to Charity as she fumbled with her keys. With quivering hands, Charity unlocked a decrepit, green door whose hinges protested loudly as it swung open.


    ¡°Dad?¡± Her voice echoed in a dark, empty kitchen. Her trembling hands reached for the lights, and the moment the fluorescent bulbs illuminated the room, she immediately wished she had never touched the switch. What used to be a cozy, familiar room that was always neatly organized and decorated to her mother¡¯s liking was now a crime scene. Pots and pans were thrown about. Plates and cups were shattered, and glass shards were everywhere¨Csome even protruding out of the wall. Papers were torn and peppered the floor, and the dining room table Charity had laughed at with her family barely a week ago was splintered into pieces.


    ¡°Dad!¡± Charity screamed, running to her parents¡¯ bedroom. Tears blurred her view, but Charity was thankful for it, fearing what other horrid scene may be awaiting her the moment her vision cleared. She burst into the room with inhuman force and released the breath she had not realized she was holding the moment she saw a big, burly man curled up on a large bed. His hands covered his face, and his massive shoulders shook violently as though he were weeping, yet no sounds were uttered.


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    ¡°D-Dad?¡± Charity uttered in a shaky whisper.


    Peter shot up the moment he heard his daughter. His red face and swollen eyes met Charity¡¯s scared expression. He ran to her and hugged her tightly. His silent weeping rocked them both with such force that Charity feared he may crack her ribs.


    ¡°Oh, Charity,¡± Peter sobbed, ¡°I should have never let her go. I should have stopped her before she left. I knew that group was trouble.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about, Dad?¡±


    ¡°Your mother,¡± Peter pulled away and looked at Charity, his eyes brimming with regret. ¡°My Rose. My flower. She¡¯s¡­ She¡¯s-¡± Peter couldn¡¯t find the strength to finish the sentence. He covered his face with his hands and dropped to the floor with a loud thud.


    Dead, Charity thought. The room began to spin as reality came crashing down on her. She lost her balance, and Andrew gently grabbed her around the waist and supported her. He brought them both down to the ground and knelt beside her weeping father. Charity began hyperventilating. The weight of the situation was an elephant on her chest, and she couldn¡¯t breathe. She dug her nails into Andrew¡¯s arm as though he was her only lifeline, a float that kept her from drowning in the sudden shock.


    She looked at him, desperate for Andrew to tell her this wasn¡¯t real, that it was all just another nightmare, but he only held her tightly and said nothing. Unfamiliar groans escaped Charity¡¯s mouth as her body filled with an overwhelming and painful grief. Graphic images from her nightmares flashed through her head. She tightened her grip on Andrew and squeezed her eyes shut, wishing the images would go away.


    Andrew said nothing. He stroked Charity¡¯s hair and listened to hers and her father¡¯s heavy weeping. His arm began to bleed as Charity desperately clung to him, but he neither moved nor requested she loosen her grip.


    After what felt like hours, Peter and Charity¡¯s sobs slowed, but neither were ready to move or speak. Charity eventually let go of Andrew and wrapped her thin arms around her father. Peter shook violently as he cried into his daughter¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Charity. I¡¯m so sorry,¡± he cried.

 Help I

    Andrew¡¯s mind was heavy as he drove the winding mountain road. He left to get Peter and Charity something to eat and hoped to clear his head along the way. Guilt weighed on his conscience every time Charity¡¯s desperate expression flashed through his mind. Should he have found a way to warn her before bringing her to her father¡¯s house? Could he have given her some insight into what he knew prior to her world crumbling beneath her? Would it have helped? Andrew knew that all the questions of what might have been or what could have happened would do no good, but he could not prevent himself from wondering anyway.


    His knuckles grew white as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, contemplating ways to bring Charity into understanding the truth about the world as she knew it. That was all a lie. That Rose was part of an underground rebellion and actively fought against Abaddon and the Elite. That Charity herself is in danger. That the Elite could now be watching her every move. That she may never be able to go home again.


    He let out a heavy grunt and focused on the road, deciding the conversation he¡¯d have to have with Charity could wait at least a day. The scent of rich pastries and hot coffee filled his truck as he pulled it into the hospital parking lot. He walked briskly toward the automated doors, attempting to accomplish his goal and return to the house before Charity became suspicious of if he had truly only gone to get food.


    As he approached the front desk, he put on a charming smile and warmly greeted the clerk, a large, old woman in hot pink scrub who was painting her nails a vibrant yellow as half-filled forms and other items covered her desk. She peered over her half-rimmed glasses and smiled wide at Andrew, revealing a smudge of bright red lipstick on her front teeth.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Andrew said, coughing as nail polish fumes invaded his nostrils, ¡°I¡¯m here to see Leah Terra. She forgot her lunch at home, so I wanted to bring it to her.¡± Andrew held up a small paper bag as if to verify his story.


    ¡°Well aren¡¯t you just a dear!¡± The old clerk gushed, waving her freshly painted nails emphatically. Andrew¡¯s eyes burned as the chemically fumes wafted directly toward his face. He held his breath while internally begging the clerk to hurry up. ¡°Go right ahead, darling. She¡¯s working in the triage wing today.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, ma¡¯am,¡± Andrew said graciously, sighing in relief the moment he got out of range. He moved quickly toward the hall the clerk had pointed out and listened to her grumbles about a messed up nail fade behind him. Andrew observed the patients and rooms as he passed, feeling a twinge of disdain. There were no serious cases, no injuries, no real trauma patients ¨C there never were. The most dire cases their intensive care unit ever saw were just elderly patients nearing death but afraid to die.


    The hospital was quiet, the staff was happy, and a peaceful lull filled the hospital, just as it did every day. The quaint scene agitated Andrew. It reminded him that Exonernon was nothing more than a utopian facade, that nothing he saw in the sunlight hours was real, and that no one he greeted in this happy hallway knew the true evil and darkness that lurked just outside their homes.


    In reality, their neighbors were being killed or enslaved by order of the very king who swore to protect Exoneron¡¯s people. Some were taken or slaughtered for being related to, or friends with, a person who had made it onto the Abaddon¡¯s hit list. If they were lucky enough to survive, they were forced into hiding, away from all they loved and held dear, while the rest of Exoneron continued on with their masquerade.


    That was the position Charity was in now, and Andrew was determined to get her out and keep her safe before the Elite ¨C or as Andrew preferred to call them, Abaddon¡¯s dogs ¨C could get to her. He had even promised Rose he would protect Charity at all costs just hours before she was found dead, slaughtered by Elite soldiers. Andrew wondered how much of the truth Peter would share with his daughter, if he even knew what really happened himself.


    Usually, Elite kills are passed off as either mountain animal or monster maulings. He assumed the same would be the case for Rose, but he was curious if the Elite would disclose to Peter what really happened, given his high status in the council. If they did, he was curious if Peter would tell his daughter the harsh truth. Andrew supposed only time would tell.


    He rounded the corner and eventually reached the area he assumed Leah should be working. Short, brown eyes, blonde hair, frowns a lot, Andrew repeated the description Uzziah had given him the previous night. Uzziah, Andrew¡¯s best friend, had been working undercover near the hospital, spotting possible Elite victims and attempting to pull them out before they could be hurt. He had met Leah on multiple occasions in doing so.


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    Andrew grinned as he spotted a woman that matched Uzziah¡¯s description, hoping he wasn¡¯t about to make a fool of himself by speaking to the wrong person.


    ¡°Leah Terra?¡± Andrew asked as he approached.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± The woman said, backing away.


    ¡°I¡¯m Andrew Stallard, a colleague of Charity¡¯s,¡± he replied warmly, extending his hand.


    Leah did not accept his greeting and continued to glare at him. ¡°What do you want? How do you know who I am?¡± Her arms crossed defensively over her chest.


    Andrew put his hand down and did his best not to laugh at Leah¡¯s standoffish behavior. From Uzziah¡¯s explanation, Andrew had assumed she was different from Charity, but he did not expect such a cold, calculating, and skeptical demeanor to come from the closest friend of someone as warm and whimsical as Charity.


    ¡°I just came to tell you that Charity just received some bad news and could use your help right now.¡± Andrew ran his free hand through his short hair, doing his best to appear as friendly as possible.


    A flicker of worry cracked through Leah¡¯s calloused expression. ¡°Where is she?¡±


    ¡°Her father¡¯s house,¡± Andrew answered.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Leah murmured, her face finally softening while her arms dropped to her side.


    Andrew cracked a smile and tossed her the paper sack. ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± he said, watching her confused expression with amusement as she pulled out a few fresh pastries. Without another word, Andrew left, assuming he would be seeing Leah again shortly.


    A short while later, Andrew lightly knocked against the large, green door he had followed Charity into earlier that day. Charity opened it, greeting Andrew with a forced smile. Charity¡¯s swollen, red face and bloodshot eyes made Andrew¡¯s heart ache.


    ¡°I have food,¡± he said kindly as he held up multiple brown bags full of various treats and savory meals. He wasn¡¯t sure whether Peter or Charity would even touch anything he had brought, but he hoped making it available would encourage them to eat something.


    ¡°I also brought you more coffee,¡± he added, holding up a white paper cup that gave off a rich aroma Charity always seemed to enjoy.


    Charity whispered a faint thank you before walking to the living room, barely acknowledging all the morsels Andrew carried. He began arranging the food on the messy counter and did his best to clean up as much of the disarray as he could. He managed to pick up much of the broken glass and papers, and he was careful to take all of the wooden chunks from the dining room table outside before sweeping to ensure no lingering glass shards or wood splinters remained.


    He then listened to the quiet whimpers coming from the other room. His heart broke for this family. He had seen this same scenario played out countless times throughout his life, and while it was never easy, this one hit particularly hard. Rose had been his mentor for many years; he would even go so far to say that she was like a second mother to him. He had wept over Rose the morning his scouts found her body, and to see her own family so broken made it difficult for him not to join them in their sorrow. However, he knew now was not the time. Charity had enough questions left unanswered, and he didn¡¯t want to add to it by having her realize Andrew knew Rose personally.


    He swallowed the ball that had formed in his throat and made a cup of water before walking the short path to the couch where he found Charity curled in a fetal position, weeping quietly. He stood for a moment, listening to loud wails and an occasional crash as something was either broken or thrown in a bedroom not far from the living room. He pressed his lips in a thin line as he saw Charity flinch with each resounding crash, certain her father¡¯s state was only adding to the pain she felt.


    He sat beside Charity and gently nudged her. She sat up abruptly and wiped her wet face with the back of her hands, surprised that Andrew was still there. She gingerly accepted the full water cup from Andrew¡¯s outstretched hand and then let the liquid quench her parched throat.


    ¡°Thanks, but you don¡¯t have to stay,¡± she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. Her bottom lip began to tremble as she ran a finger around the rim of the now empty cup.


    ¡°Do you want me to go?¡±


    ¡°No, but you can leave if you want,¡± Charity said, her gaze still fixed to the clear rim around the glassware.


    ¡°Why would I leave?¡± Andrew asked. As he spoke, he noticed some of Charity¡¯s curls had stuck to her wet face, and he gently brushed them away.


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you?¡± Charity responded, clearly confused.


    ¡°Because I¡¯m a decent human being,¡± Andrew chuckled.


    ¡°But you barely know me.¡±


    ¡°Why does that matter?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just feel like it should. Why would you want to stay in a house where the only other two people present are doing nothing but crying, especially when you don¡¯t even really know them?¡± Charity wiped another tear as it fell from her eye.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to think you and I are on the verge of becoming friends, especially since you¡¯ve done nothing but ask me questions for two days now,¡± Andrew teased. A small smile slipped past Charity¡¯s quivering lips.


    ¡°So,¡± Andrew continued, throwing his arm around the back of the couch, ¡°since we¡¯re almost friends, I see no reason to leave, unless you want me to of course.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand you,¡± Charity resigned, ¡°but¡­ thanks.¡±