“The Fate Zone? You know we have never enforced that law. This is not our way. Our way is love and compassion, we don’t turn away those who need our help.”

“Do I really need to remind the Council just what happened last time, when someone questioned the use of that law.” Salvat Spoan gestured to the other Council members.

The long rows of members nodded, some with despair--others, with anger. Salvat Spoan held the Council in his icy gaze, making them squirm. A few people scratched their itchy white wigs. You could see traces of people’s hair peeking out from under their wigs. Blues, greens, reds, with other just as crazy colors.

But Salvat Spoan was not done speaking. “And I certainly don’t need to remind you Kakna Kastar. Since it was your grandfather who questioned it.”

Murmurs rose from the crowd. Everyone thought back to that time when Kalvet Kastar first spoke against the law. He had some fine points and objections about it, that was for sure. But the way he went about voicing them. Was completely wrong.

He spoke loud and angrily. He yelled to the presiding overseer just everything he thought was wrong about the law.

The presiding overseer tried to speak over Kalvet Kastar’s objections but it was no use. Other people began agreeing with Kalvet Kastar’s thinking, speaking out about what they thought was wrong about the Council. The Council wasn’t perfect, so people had plenty to talk about.

All the yelling and screaming wasn’t helped by the Mechs the presiding overseer had called in. It only added coal to the fire. The people thought the overseer was trying to silence them. Not letting their voice to be heard.

He encited a riot.

“What happened with my grandfather was unfortunate,” Kakna Kastar began, “But I--”

“Unfortunate?” Salvat Spoan cut in, “You call a mob unfortunate? You call seven injured and two dead, unfortunate?

“I call it a mistake,” Kakna Kastar responded, with the same amount of fire in her voice as was in Salvat Spoan’s.

“Enough.”

The word wasn’t shouted, but spoken in a voice that silenced all others.

The current presiding officer had finally joined the debate.

“The punishment must fit the crime, correct?” he asked the feuding pair.

Kakna Kastar knew she was losing the battle at that moment. “Yes,” she responded, eyes cast downward.

“They are not our people, they cannot benefit us in any way, and they would be nothing more than a drain on our resources. If they refuse to go back from which they came, there is only one place for them now.”

He fixed Kakna Kastar with a steely glance. “I sentence them to the Fate Zone. May God have mercy on their souls.”

*I was going through some old stories and found this. Hope you liked it. Don't judge too harshly, I was probably thirteen when I wrote this lol*

I came

I cried

I watched

I burned

I ached

I killed

For you .

The two factions watched each other from across the ballroom, the air separating them crackling with tension and suppressed fury. It was no mystery that the Wyans and Yani hated each other; six years wasn’t enough to erase the deep scars that war created. Out of the eight factions present, those two were the ones that had always seemed to be at war.

And it was almost always about one thing: love. Or, rather, passions that ran out of hand and stirred up jealousy in others. Because while the Wyans and Yani were the most war hungry, they also were some of the most beautiful people to grace the earth.

Solace watched from the edge of the dancefloor. She wanted to dance, but as the daughter of the Yani ruler, it was up to her to lead by example and dance only with those of their faction. She danced with every male in attendance from the Yani, but now she had ran out and none had held her fancy enough for a repeat dance. But the night was still young, and Solace longed for a partner that possessed the dexterity and appeal she desired. By all accounts, she should be dancing with her betrothed, Amer, but - as handsome as he was - he was as droll as a doll with the same amount of personality.

Even though her father would have lost his head, her eyes kept being drawn over to the Wyans. She knew she should hate them - which she did, to an extent - but she always held a measure of fancanation for the faction that was so much like her own but supposed to be her opposite.

A laugh carried its way over to where she sat, and she found herself enraptured by its owner. It was a young man, possibly in his early twenties, his hair as dark as his face was pale, dressed in a suit that was cut to the latest age of fashion. He was tall, at least three heads taller than anyone in attendance, and it made Solace wonder how she had missed him when she had first arrived. Because he was Wyan, she suddenly realized, and had stayed on what was starting to be known as the “Wyan” side.

“Aren’t they handsome?” a voice whispered into her ear.

Solace jumped, then turned guiltily to the voice, only to realize it was her friend, Calla. Calla was Hunani and didn’t share Yani feelings towards the Wyans. Like most in her faction, Calla just viewed the Wyans as a faction full of gorgeous people and not former - some would say, current - enemies.

Solace giggled softly and said, “I suppose some are.”

Calla leaned in closer and pointed towards the man Solace had noticed moments earlier. “Especially that one.”

Solace jerked Calla’s hand down, not wanting to draw attention. “And he just so happens to be Wyan - so why are you pointing him out to me?”

Calla just rolled her eyes - viewing the Yani and Wyan feud like most of the other factions did; a squabble involving people who just couldn’t put their pride behind and resolve their differences. The Hunani especially found the feud quite humorous.

Calla wasn’t wrong though; the young man was unusually handsome - even for a Wyan.

He was tall, lean, possessing defined features, and…

… walking towards them.

Calla squealed and clutched Solace’s hand like a dying woman. “He’s coming over!”

There was no mistaking his attention; his gaze locked on them - on Solace, his strides long and powerful, with an expression that said he knew exactly what he was doing. His eyes, which Solace was starting to realize were a deep blue, were bright and intense.

He kept walking, ignoring the glares and leers from those around him as he came over to the “Yani” side.

He gave her the customary bow for someone of her status, the smirk on his face turning a should-be regal action to one holding humor and something slightly flirtatious.

He looked her in her eyes and Solace had to think, Yes, definitely flirtatious.

“Would you like to dance,” he asked, making no attempt at small talk or hiding the fact that she was the one he had come over to speak with.

Calla gave her a discreet squease on her arm, encouraging her to accept his request.

But Solace, of course, hesitated. She knew how the whispers would fly if she danced with him. Especially one so young and… luring. Dancing with an older man, from her faction or not, was something that could be seen as almost dutiful, but when she - a young woman betrothed to another - was seen dancing with another man, it raised so many types of eyebrows she had no interest in raising. Imagine what her father would think, dancing with the enemy. And enjoying it too; because she had no doubt she would enjoy being in the arms of this handsome stranger.

Even now, him standing there in front of her, his arm outstretched in an invitation to dance, was drawing attention from many in the Yani faction. Solace watched as Amer caught sight of them, his expression turning several degrees cooler, even though he himself was talking to several young women at once who were obviously attracted to him. No one would rebuke him for that, but because she was a woman, she was sure to collect many tongue lashings from her father and snide looks from others.

So if she was going to get in trouble just for that, why not go all the way?

“I’d love to dance,” Solace found herself saying, standing up to her full height - which was still several heads shorter than the young man.

Even after her encouragement, Calla’s mouth dropped open from the surprise that Solace had indeed accepted the invitation from the Wyan.

But the man’s expression held no such amazement. In fact, Solace suspected that he had held zero doubt that she would accept him. It was possible he had understood that dancing with him couldn’t have caused much more of a stir than just talking together would have brought about. Solace found herself perturbed and fascinated at this young man whom was still nameless to her.

“My name is Lennox,” he said as he lead her to the dancefloor, almost like he had read her mind.

“Solace,” she said.

“I know,” was all he said in response, his unreadable smile never wavering.

“How do you-?”

“It would be a dishonor to not know the name of the daughter of the Yani leader - especially one as captivating as you.”

Solace found herself reddening at the praise, even know she knew it to be nothing more than simple flattery.

The band changed then, from the fast music it had been playing for the past hour to something slow. A waltz, Solace realized, her skin turning hot and cold all at once.

She could dance it no problem, but the amount of flesh that required to touch made Solace wonder if it would cause Amer or her father to step in.

Lennox, reading her mind once again, said, “Afraid?” The small smile on his face suggesting he was making a mockery of her.

Her temper began to flare, and, just to prove him wrong, she pressed herself firmly against him once they were situated on the dancefloor. “Are you?”

His smile turned dangerous, and Solace could tell that he had accepted her silent challenge. “Never.”

He placed a warm hand on her back, choosing - whether by accident or choice - the area where the material on her dress opened to reveal her back. Solace stumbled a little as his thumb ran over her sternum.

His smile turned into a grin and Solace knew that after the next few minutes of this dance, things would never be quite the same.

He inclined his head lower to whisper into her ear. “You’re breathing heavy. Do you need to take a break?” As if on cue, his grip tightened on her back, making her breath hitch.

Two could play this game, Solace thought. The game was dangerous, she knew that, but she just couldn’t help but play along.

Solace pressed herself even more firmly against him, not being able to stuff down the frustration when he did nothing but grin like he thought her attempts were cute but lacking.

“You’re making a scene,” she whispered, inclining her head up so he could hear her better.

“I think you’re the one they’re all looking at,” was his response.

She risked a glance as he spun her away, and he was right; Amer and even her father were both looking at them with something likened to death in their expression.

Solace couldn’t keep away the fear that rose up, and Lennox noticed it. She couldn’t help but be touched when she finally saw something other than flirtatious humor in his expression. Something that she could almost call concern.

But, not wanting to lose a moment Solace knew she could never get back, she smiled and said, “So that’s what you’re afraid of; the Yani.”

His smile returned. “I will never fear a man I don’t know - even a faction as war-hungry as yours.”

Solace wanted to correct him, say both their factions liked war, but she said instead, “Not even my father? He could order your death and it would no doubt be carried out.”

He chuckled, the sound low and appealing to Solace’s ears. “They could try, but my father would never let that happen.”

Solace suddenly found herself interested in the identity of this young stranger. “Your father? Who is he?” He had to be someone with considerable prestige if Lennox thought he could stand up to someone like Solace’s father.

Lennox just spun her out again. “I’m afraid if I told you that, this moment would be as good as over.”

“You think we’re having a moment?” She played it off like he had said a joke, although she had already thought that exact same thing moments ago.

“Of course,” he said. “What do you call it when you feel like the world is standing still and you’re the only two people left on it?”

“A man who reads too many books,” she teased, although she couldn’t help but admit to herself that she felt the same way.

He inclined his head, like he was conceding to her point. “Maybe. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

This time, Solace didn’t try to object.

The waltz played its final notes then, and Solace knew that the time to face the world and her father was rapidly approaching. But, before it did, she had to ask, “Why did you ask me to dance?”

The waltz ended, but Lennox didn’t let her go and Solace didn’t try to make him.

He leaned in close, flooding her senses with something she didn’t want to ever forget and a warmth she didn’t want to let go of. “You looked lonely and I wanted to see you smile.”

She finally took a step back. “You risk starting another war just to see me smile?”

His flirtatious smile changed then, turning to one Solace could only describe as real. “For you, it’d be worth it.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his tall figure quickly absorbed by the large crowd.

He left Solace standing there, wishing he had never came up to her and longing for him to come back.

Carter was awoken by what he thought were the sounds of birds. That thought was quickly dismissed, however, since birds were one of the first things that disappeared almost 7 years ago. First the birds, then the animals of the land - all dying off mysteriously - followed by fresh water and the sun. It was still here, obviously, or we would all be dead, but it never reached its full peak in the sky anymore, and every day afterwards it rose lower and lower, until the one day it would stop rising completely.

The world was ending, there was no doubt about that. Somebody, somewhere up in the clouds had finally grown tired of the meer humans who continued to pollute their world. Every year for the past seven the world had taken a step back. It was the seven steps from the dawn of creation, but in reverse. The order was random, but there was no need for guessing anymore; the only step left was that the world would cease to exist. Humanity had used up its many chances and it was time to start over.

For years, people tried to ignore the signs. Like it wasn't odd that the meat section had become non-existent or that we haven't had a naturally occurring rainfall in almost 2 years.

Six years had passed of the start of destruction, and the total seven would be up in…

Carter felt his stomach drop out when he realized it would be seven years in seven days.

Seven days and then it would be all over.

Carter wanted to cry, scream or beg for more time, but he knew God had no more to give.

It had been surreal at first, knowing that the great power few confessed belief in was starting the steps of destruction. Maybe if they had started making changes sooner - at the first sign - things might have been different. But nothing changed until it was too late. The point of no return, it was.

Carter ran a hand over his worn face. It was an odd thought; knowing he'd never get older, he'd never get married or start a family, for God's sake he was going to be the only nineteen year old in the entire world who had never been kissed before. He'd had options - he wasn't that pathetic - but he'd turned them all down because he'd been waiting for one person. And now he was going to die before confessing his love.

He'd long ago accepted that he was a coward when it came to her. It wasn't like he didn't understand that this was the end - he'd already shared several goodbyes with his friends and former school mates, patched things up with his parents that couldn't be described as any less than difficult, and completed basically everything that was on his bucket list.

All he had left to do - all he wanted to do - was tell Amber how he had always felt about her.

But he couldn't.

God, he couldn't do anything when it came to her. Couldn't walk past her without getting red in the face. Couldn't hold a conversation with her that didn't end with him feeling embarrassed. Couldn't convince her that he wasn't crazy when he said the world was ending. Couldn't stop her from running away. Couldn't stop the car that hit her. Couldn't keep her heart from failing.

There wasn't a day that went by where he didn't think about that day.

He'd visit her grave, but he didn't know where it was. He hadn't even been allowed to attend her funeral, because apparently it was unethical for "disturbed" patients to go to their psychiatrists funeral.

Carter turned to look out his window; past the bars and stone walls that surrounded his prison was a world that didn't know it was ending.

Dr. Hana - Amber - hadn't believed him. No one did.

Not his parents, friends, or co-workers.

Did Carter even believe? Most days he did, when the nurses hadn't slipped him his "crazy" pills, but there had always been this small voice that just kinda wondered if Carter believed what he was saying.

Amber had called that voice "the real Carter," but Carter had stopped listening to it. Soon he'd prove the truth to himself.

He'd prove it to everyone.

The dread crept in - pain soon to follow.

The silence was so loud, it was all I could hear.

Someone - please tell me this is a joke. I couldn’t stand it

Someone, tell me why. Why must I lose a friend?

The joke wasn’t funny, I wished it would end.

But it never would.

It never could until she decided otherwise.

The ball was in her court, and I could only pray she’d at least pick it up.

These emotions were new - but I could have easily lived without them.

My cyber-buddy, my cyber pal.

Gone.

Somebody, tell me, please.

Let me wake up from this dream.

Somebody, tell me how I will survive.

Somebody

Please

"You know why you're here, right?"

Lana closed her eyes, as if to block out the officer's intense stare. "You think I killed April Hadley," was her response.

Her old highschool friend was dead and it was all her fault. But they had it wrong. All of it.

Officer Blake leaned back in his chair, giving an appearance of being comfortable, while his partner Officer Johnson stood against the wall of the interrogation room, arms crossed and a heavy frown on his face. It was easy for Lana to see who was playing good and bad cop, although she knew Officer Blake was only pretending to be on her side.

Even still, she wanted to trust him. She wanted to talk to him - needed to talk to him. The past twelve hours had been the worst of her life; she was exhausted, needed food, stunk from a long summer day, and was emotionally raw. Lana wanted her mommy. She was a twenty-two year old woman who hadn't been back home in almost three years, and she wanted her mom.

Officer Blake pushed forward her untouched cup of water while Officer Johnson continued talking. "And did you?"

"I hadn't seen April since highschool - I haven't seen anyone since graduation."

"So what was she doing twenty thousand miles away from her home - in your apartment?"

"I. Don't. Know."

Of course Lana really did, but she knew they wouldn't believe the answer she would give them.

Officer Blake sighed, like she had disappointed him. "We found the pillow, Lana. The one you used to suffocate her with."

Lana's heart lurched - there was no way she was getting out of this now. Except by maybe telling the truth, but April made her promise she wouldn't.

If it wasn't for her nosy neighbor, the police wouldn't have been called, and Lana wouldn't be the prime suspect in a murder investigation. She'd had arrangements for the body to be removed discreetly - no one would have known what had gone on that night. Well, two people would know, but the one had been silenced forever.

Lana gripped the armrest of her cold metal chair, wanting to reach for the offered water but restraining herself because she knew it’d be seen as a sign of weakness. That after four hours of being held in this room, she was ready to talk.

Lana silently cursed April for doing this to her. Lana hadn’t even known why she’d agreed to it; she hadn’t seen her since highschool. Sure, they had been close, but wasn’t three years and twenty thousand miles enough to break any bond they might have had?

It wasn’t like Lana had been running away from something when she’d left so long ago, she’d just wanted a chance to make something of herself.

Officer Johnson smacked a hand on the table in front of her, making her jump. “Don’t you see we’re trying to help you here?”

Officer Blake gave her what Lana could only describe as a beseeching look, before he glanced down at her thin file. “No priors, not even a parking ticket? Cases like this could take months to get to trial - maybe even years. How long do you think you’re gonna last, locked up while you wait?”

I hate you. I hate you, April.

Lana wanted to scream the truth, but she forced herself to bite her lip hard and leaned back in her chair.

With a sigh, Officer Blake stood up. Both the officers left the room without another word, leaving Lana to imagine scenarios involving handcuffs and prison bars.

But almost an hour passed and nothing happened. Lana took in the deepest breath she'd had for a while, but the small measure of calm popped like an overinflated bubble when the door creaked open once again.

It was Officer Blake, for once without his stoic partner, his expression softer than she'd ever seen it.

She told herself it was just another trick, but a small voice deep inside of her hoped foolishly that he had discovered the truth on his own. So Lana wouldn't have to confess and break the promise of a dying woman.

His mouth opened and Lana tensed.

But all he said was, “She was sick, wasn’t she?”

Lana refused to say anything, because she knew the moment her mouth opened the truth would come spilling out.

But Officer Blake wasn’t finished. “Stage four cancer, nasty stuff. She only had, what, six months to live?”

“Four,” Lana found herself saying.

“Must have been a complete change in her life, right? Because of how active she was. You followed her on Instagram, so surely you saw all those half-marathons she often ran."

Lana squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block memories of all those posts that held April's smiling face. She'd always been so full of life - even back in highschool, she'd never succumbed to the depression and melodrama that seemed to infect their school.

"Must have been one of the biggest shocks of her life, huh, knowing she couldn't do anything she used to do anymore. She was practically bedridden, right? Could've caused even the best people to snap."

"Please stop," Lana whispered.

"She canceled all her credit cards," he continued, almost like he hadn't even heard her, "paid off all her debit, gave her dog to her parents, even put her home up for sale." He paused. "Almost like she knew she was going to die a lot quicker than what the doctors had said."

"Stop," Lana said louder.

"But what really had me confused was, why you? She hadn't seen you in person for over three years and it wasn't like you guys kept in touch all the time." He finally sat down in the seat across from Lana. "But you owed her, didn't you? Saved you from committing suicide, almost five years ago, and you'd been in her debt ever since." He grimaced. "Terrible thing to do to a person; save their life so they could take yours." He finally looked her in the eye. "And yet you still did it."

"No," Lana tried to protest. "No, I-"

But he wasn't done. "The pillow we found didn't match any in your apartment. But it did match ones we found in hers." He'd laid down on the pieces, now it was time to fit them together. "She came to your apartment - with the pillow she'd brought from home - and asked you to kill her. A mercy killing, no doubt, but still something that would make even the most hardest criminal stumble. Did you agree right away? Or did she have to convince you - maybe even remind you of what she had done for you? I suppose it doesn't really matter, you still killed her in the end. I wonder how it would have been, if the neighbor hadn't heard noise and called it in. Would you have kept on living your life like nothing had happened?" His stare was intense. "Do you even feel remorse for what you did? Or were you simply grant-"

"Does it matter?" were the words that scrapped out of Lana's dry mouth. "She's dead and it's my fault."

Officer Blake stood up, feeling a measure of disgust at Lana's lack of emotion. "She is, isn't she," was all he said. He walked out of the room then, and it was only as the door was shutting that he heard the sounds of sobs, coming out of the interrogation room. Officer Blake just shook his head, as he walked down the hallway that had never seemed so bleak and forlorn before.

Sometimes he wished he had never pinned his badge on.

I wasn’t always this way.

Half-cracked, obsessive, and paranoid.

I’d like to think I was quite sane once. Before the black crept in and the voices told me stories. I would have lost my head completely if I hadn’t found solace in writing out the words the whispers told me in the night.

If I hadn’t, I knew that the words racing through my head would have come out in more destructive ways.

I would like to call myself a writer, but the other girls would always laugh when I used that term. They’d laugh and tease and hurt when I dared to put even a remotely important label on myself. So I stuck to using terms like half-cracked, obsessive, and paranoid out loud, and a writer in my own head.

It kept the fists of others away from me.

It's not like I was afraid of a fight; half-cracked people like me scratch, bite and kick their way to victory every time; but what came after every fight was something that I tried to avoid if at all possible.

A girl who used to sleep in the room next to mine used to always sing Mary Had a Little Lamb every night to help her fall asleep. After one particular song-filled night, when I decided to be curious rather than angry at the girl’s constant signing, I asked her why she always sang that song versus any of the other nursery rhymes. The girl blinked her shockingly clear blue eyes and said that it was because her childhood pet cat was named Mary and so she loved anything named Mary.

It was a cute story, except this girl has been here for all her life and has never had a cat or a pet of any kind.

Even still, maybe it was for the best she got pneumonia and died before Madam Mary came to stay with us.

The old Madam, Madam Ellena, while firm, was kind and treated each girl here as if we weren't all completely - or half - cracked.

We all loved her, so that was why it created such a big uproar and instant dislike to Madam Mary when Madam Ellena left us without a word.

Some of the girls, the naive and the good ones, were quick to forgive Madam Ellena for leaving us. They soon forgot about the betrayal we all felt when the morning of her absence was realized. Maybe it made me wicked, or heartless, but I couldn't help but hate Madam Ellena for leaving us. Maybe, if she had given us a warning, I’d have been able to forgive her. But when she left us without a word and stuck us with Madam Mary she was forever dubbed as unforgivable and I hated her all the more for it.

I hated Madam Mary too, but for a different reason. Whereas Madam Ellena was fairly kind - reasonable - Madam Mary had zero tolerance for rule-breaking of any kind.

Those who broke curfew, made noise late at night that woke others, hid things during room searches, ate more food than their share, lied during our weekly "crazy checks," initiated or participated in fights were punished swiftly and without mercy.

There were more rules, which Madam Mary now had printed and hung up on every wall, but those were the ones that always seemed to apply to me.