Chapter One:Say Goodbye.

I can remember that day far too clearly, so clearly its sharp edges threaten to slice the flesh of my mind. So clearly, that it scares me.

I awoke in my bed, a wine colored coverlet beneath my slim body, sticking to my back with the horrendous humidity of California. Darkened violet light filtered between the thick purple curtains that attempted to cover the bay windows of my room. As I pushed myself into a sitting position on the edge of my bed, I could feel the white lush carpet beneath my toes, covered in large black, red, and plum purple circles of color. It had a very rich feel, a pleasantly fuzzy one that brought me to wiggle my pale toes deeper into the comforting softness. My walls were the same crisp white they had always been, trimmed with the darling little seashells and waves that I had found so endearing and incredibly amusing in my younger years. The same chandelier lay above the canopy of my bed, the crystals dangling from it slightly clinking as the large double doors downstairs opened and closed, the sound was not profoundly loud- but it was one I had come to recognize and be wary of.

For a moment that morning, only for an instant, I remembered the time when life was not like this for me, when there was not a warm bed, nor pretty little trim on the walls, nor luxurious windows for sitting upon and looking out into the gardens, nor a chandelier that tossed dazzling rainbows and reminded me of falling ice cicles. That moment doesn’t last long. Everything changed when my mother remarried, Hallen Johnston. The CEO of Johnston VR systems and gaming supplies. He gave us a nice house, and he gave Ella and I the love of a father that I hadn’t felt for such a long time. Ella, my little sister, is Hallen’s biological daughter, and my half-sister. I am seventeen, Ella is only five. I was six years old when mother brought us from our little village in Sweden to the land known as America. She told us it would be a better place. But America changed my mother. She is obsessed with beauty, and I know she fears that I will tell Hallen what she has been doing behind closed doors when he is out on business trips. It is because of her that I fear the sound of that door opening and closing, never knowing when she will be sober or not.

I tossed a glance at the mirror across the room. Crisp blue eyes look back at me, silvery-blonde hair that usually lie in sleek waves, and the occasional well-tamed day of straightness, was amuck with tangles and frizz, a thorough case of bedhead. Even in the dark I saw her pale skin, almost glowing in the dark. She had full soft pink lips that always seem to be turned down in the slightest sad frown every time I look at her. A stereotypical swedish beauty- just like my mother.

I stood abruptly, trying to wipe away the faint look of disgust on my face. I walked into the bathroom and brushed my teeth, washing my face afterwards. Those blue eyes always followed me. Not that I minded them so much, I had my mother’s eyes, more or less. I have the eyes she had, before she became the angry and bitter woman she is. I have her eyes from the old days, before the cold and cruelty settled in. The silver faucets glint and I wince as I yank a brush through the fine strands of my hair. I must’ve slept poorly the night before, tossing and turning again for my hair to have become such a mess. I shimmied into an outfit, not really caring what I put on so long as they were clothes, nothing I wore would have changed the way people treated me. Nothing I did could have changed that either.

I skipped down the stairs two at a time, I was greeted with the sight of little Ella sitting at the table, her feet dangling halfway down the legs of the chair, her legs still too short to touch the ground. Her shiny brunette hair, an attribute from my step-father, Hallen Johnston, is put up in two little pigtails. She had on a pair of plastic pink kitty-cat ears that, if my mom saw, she would probably raise hell for. I snuck up behind her quietly and put my hands over her eyes gently,

“Guess who?” I tease, putting on a smile. I didn’t smile often those days, but Ella? Ella was someone I could force a smile for, every day, until I died.

“ZuZu!” She squeals, bouncing up and down in her chair and knocking over her plastic cup of apple juice. I let out a short laugh at the ridiculous nickname she has bestowed upon me.

“How did you know?” I feign shock, mopping up her mess with a wad of paper towels. She completely buys the act.

“I’m not a moose! I recognize my sister!” She giggles.

“A moose you say? Well how would you know if you weren't a moose? What makes a moose a moose?” I toss the wad into the trashcan and give her a quick tickle to the ribs. She squeals with laughter as I grab a cup of juice from the fridge myself, offering her a sip-she takes a large gulp instead, and I lace up my rollerblades. Perhaps it was a bit childish, rollerblading to school, but taking the bus, even though it was an up-scale neighborhood, didn’t appeal to me. I endured enough torment at school itself.

“Um...they have….uh….those horn-y thingies!” She exclaims, profoundly proud of herself. I smirk and grab her pink plastic kitty ears.

“I think you mean antlers, like these!” I tug on the plastic points. She reaches up and feels, her face twisting up in unbelievable shock as she appeared to have forgotten she’d put the ears on this morning.

“I am a moose! I am a moose!” She runs around, shrieking and flailing her arms as Mrs.Fiona, her nanny, comes back in from the bathroom, scowling at me. She explains to Ella how she is not an actual moose, spoiling the fun of the morning as I scoop up my denim schoolbag, coated in buttons of varying colors.

“That wasn’t nice, Zuzu.” Ella pouts. I salute her as I scoot out the door.

“All’s fair in love and war.” I smirk.

“What does that mean?!” She cries out, flustered.

“I’ll tell you when you're older.” I chuckle, pulling the door closed behind me.

I could smell the sea as I rollerbladed to GoldWell’s School for the privileged. The salt was in the air, and it was a bit windy- the sand stinging my face ever-so-slightly. Large estates similar to my own family’s glided by, and on the way I had wondered how many of those pretty doors had atrocious secrets hiding behind them, just like ours. I slipped out of my rollerblades at the stairs leading up to the school, and had put on a pair of sandals from my backpack.

“ ‘Zura!” I looked over my shoulder as I picked up the wheeled shoes, my one and only friend, Shelly Halloway, was running towards me with the biggest smile you can imagine. Her hair is frizzy like a bush, brunette but with fire-like streaks of red that glint in the sunlight, She has a few sparse freckles and an oddly shaped birthmark behind her right ear that we have both agreed looks a bit like Morgan Freeman if he had a unicorn horn. She’s a bit on the short side, and by the time she reached me she was out of breath.

“Morning.” I said calmly, I started up the stairs- but not after giving her a few seconds to breathe.

“We still on for tonight?” She chirrups like a songbird.

“DragonKeep? Of course. We play every wednesday. Why would I break that tradition? Unless….” We were both silent for a few moments.

“I understand if something comes up, Azura. You don’t have to say it out loud.” Shelly gives me a sympathetic look, and I feel my cheeks turn red. She shouldn’t have to be so understanding, and I shouldn’t have to hide Ella from the screaming and raging downstairs- or on a worse day, one of my mom’s “male friends”. Mrs.Fiona leaves after 2pm, and there’s always that rough hour between then and the time I get home that I worry about Ella, being watched by my mother. If you could call what she does “watching” at all.

“But on the other side of things- when you get on tonight…”she smiles sheepishly, “I may need a bit of help.”

“What did you do?” I inwardly, and perhaps a bit outwardly, groan.

“Well….I found a secret dungeon-”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“Ahah! Let me finish- what did I tell you about letting me finish my stories about my stupid decisions before you tell me how stupid they were?”

“To let you finish telling your stories about your stupid decisions before I tell you how stupid they were.”

“Stop being such a smartass.”

“I’ll stop when you think before you act.”

“Ah! but going with the flow is so much fuuuuuuuuuuuun!” She sighs wistfully. “But anyway, Found a secret dungeon, and you know how HARD those are to find in DragonKeep, right? Course you do. SO…..to make a long story short, my avatar is currently trapped seven sub-levels under in a safe-room….a little low on supplies.”

“By ‘a little’ I infer that you mean, ALL out of supplies?”

“Yes. Actually.”

“That was a stupid decision.”

“Oh how did I know you were going to say THAT?” she threw her hands up in the air. And, despite myself- I laughed. Shelly was one of those people that could make anyone smile. There was just some quality about her. She knew how to push all the right buttons, I guess that would be a way of putting it.

“Yeah, ok. Alright, I’ll bring you some supplies when I log in. Where is this secret dungeon anyhow?”

“Just outside of Kanter.”

“That’s a bad area.” I bite the inside of my cheek slightly. “The moment you leave the town limits, the forests are riddled with PK guilds. They hunt down people like you and me, they’ll kill us- take all of our money, items, and we’ll lose all of our experience.” (For those of you who don’t know, a PK guild is a group of people who band together to take out and kill, murder, if you want to think of it that way, other players for money and items- sometimes bragging rights. Towns and cities, and most villages, are considered “safe zones”, where other players nor monsters or creatures can harm or kill you. Safe Zones are also located every so often within dungeons to give a short respite to battling players, but these are only empty rooms, meant for short breaks.)

“I was feeling daring, so sue me.” Shelly shrugged as we made our way down the halls. We had gotten quite good at ignoring the venomous stares people gave me, and by association, her, by then. My mother’s reputation was also pushed onto me, and I didn’t really blame them for hating me. I mean, I look like her, and if someone’s mother had slept around and destroyed my family as well when she had no business to, I would probably be bitter towards anyone who held relation to that woman too. I accepted the hatred, and I never retaliated when they would do cruel things- such as slapping duct-tape in the back of my hair, putting nasty notes in my locker, placing a tack or two in my gym shoes, among other things. It hurt, but I knew that they only hurt me because they were hurting far worse inside, and they wanted to make that terrible pain go away. And so I lived with that hurt, and I would always wipe the sad and worn down expression from my face just before I walked in the door so that little Ella would never have to see how torn up things would be when she was sent off to public school. I was a very understanding person, and also, very submissive. I couldn’t have really fought back if I wanted to. And if I had to be a punching bag to ease their pain, I would take those blows as best as I could. I would ease their suffering. I never liked seeing people suffer, Hallen said I was  the sweetest daughter he could have ever asked for. Shelly said I was a pushover. And yet the way Mrs.Fiona put it fits best I think, Soul-crushingly empathetic. Of course Hallen didn’t know what happened to me once I left the house, and we all prefered to think that he didn’t know what my mother was up to. But I got the feeling he had an idea of what was going on after he popped in one day at noon and my mother, Silla, wasn’t home.

“You always feel daring.” I roll my eyes, shifting the weight of my bag as my sandals flop against the hard white tile floor. I can still remember what Shelly was wearing that day, when I glanced over at her. She was wearing khaki capris, and a yellow and red striped tank top that I had frequently told her wasn’t very becoming, and that it appeared a bit on the tacky side. But she would just laugh and ignore me. Shelly never really did care much for what other people had to say.

“Precisely.” She stuck out her tongue and I shook my head with a little smile. “But you’re still going to help me because you love me.” she stated.

“You say that like it’s a command.”

“Because it is.” She gave one of those charming little smiles that could weasel her out of all kinds of trouble. Well, most kinds of trouble.

“Yes, my princess.” I swept into a mocking bow, and Shelly broke out in a fit of giggles.

“You’re too tall to be doing that!” She laughed. I was stereotypically tall, just like my mother. A good two or three inches over the average height for a girl of my age. Sure, there were people taller than me, and everyone must’ve seemed tall to Shelly, but I was still awkward with my long legs and arms. Being tall though, I was a bit on the scrawny side, but I wouldn’t say I was a twig. There were curves in my torso and hips that made it incredibly evident that I was of the feminine gender. Maybe not as pronounced as some girls’ (something Shelly lamented about herself very often), but I didn’t want to be like my mother in that sense- who denied profusely going under the knife to better her appearance.

“No, I’m too tall to be hanging around you.” I poked her in the ribs and she squirmed. We walked into our classroom, the harsh fluorescent lights making the desktops seem slicker than they actually were. Shelly stuck out her tongue one more time before she went and took her own seat, across the class from mine.

I can still remember their exact positions- funny how I can remember that, and not what I ate for breakfast the very next day. My desk was angled against the window, letting sunshine in in such a manner that on days when it was particularly sunny, I should think the bright light damaged my eyes. Shelly was on the opposite side, her desk pressed with one side to the wall so she would have a clear view of the hologram board. The hologram board, when not turned on, was just a semicircle of what looked like plated metal, with a line tiny of LED lights across the top. Nothing in our age really looked quite as impressive as it truly was. Behind Shelly sat Donovan, the governor’s son, and in front of her, Tericka- the school’s best female cross country runner. In front of me, the seat was usually empty. For some reason, it always seemed that the students in that seat were coming and going so quickly nobody could keep up. But now I know the real reason that the seat was always an on-again-off-again spot. That was the seat reserved for the school’s scholarship students, and GoldWell’s had a habit of revoking scholarships if they found someone better. Behind me sat Yvonne, unlike most others she was never particularly cruel to me, though never particularly kind either. She seemed to just tolerate me. At least she never treated me like a toad, and looking back, I am thankful that it was Yvonne sitting behind me and not some poor kid whose life my mom had mucked up. I can only imagine how much more miserable life would have been had Yvonne not been behind me. In a way, I was thankful for her. In a strange sort of way (not a creeper! I swear!) I guess I thought of us almost as friends, friends that never really spoke, or hung out, but friends all the same. Shelly was as far as friends went, unless you counted my little sister, so in my mind- Yvonne was as good as a friend.

I can recall Mrs.Winnie’s footsteps as she came into the classroom, wearing a rather sensible pair of heels as the arc of her belly was visible from beneath her blazer. She was in her seventh month, and a little boy would be on his way into the world in another two. She confided in her students, but somehow managed to retain the professional atmosphere GoldWell’s was famous for. She gave her usual ‘good-morning’ with a chirruping smile, before she started calling the roll.

“Felicia Ambrose?”

“Here.” Felicia, a redhead in the front, half-raised her hand.

“Adam Browns?”

“Here, Mrs.Winnie.”

“Azura Evas?”

“Present, Miss….” I looked up at her, and she gave me a little encouraging smile.

She ran down the roll, and I’m not going to bore you with a play-by-play of our lessons, so I’ll skip ahead.

As the bell rang, I scooped up my denim bag- and the bottom gave out. My peers shuffled out of the door as I kneeled to scoop up scattered papers and books. I jerked back with a slight intake of breath, my hand was bleeding. I looked down at the glass shards mixed among my papers, biting my lip;something I found could always help me keep from crying. How had they snuck them inside of my bag without my noticing? It didn’t matter, the damage was already done. Later, I learned that somebody had smashed the mirror in the girl’s bathroom that same day at lunch, solving at least part of the mystery. I shook out my papers, the tiny slivers making tiny ‘clink-plink!’ing sounds against the ground as they collided with it. I scooped them up, and the larger jagged pieces, as gingerly as I could. I discreetly asked Mrs.Winnie for a large bandaid as she came back into the room from hall duty. She gave me an odd look, but obliged.

“You’re always the last to leave, Azura….” She says slowly, as if she’s treading on dangerous ground. I keep a stony face as I put the bandage on my palm, by that time she had stopped asking where all of my cuts and scrapes came from. I stapled the bottom of my bag back together, a temporary solution, but I hoped it would last until I got home. I laced up my rollerblades without looking at her.

“I’m just a bit slow.”

“You never talk to anyone in class…”

“I don’t want to bother anybody.” I dismissed.

“I think you’re a nice girl. You should make some more friends than just Shellena, Azura.”

“Great advice Mrs.Winnie. Thanks.” I glided down the halls before she could say anything more.

“I’m serious, Ms.Evas!” She called after me, but she didn’t chase me down. I clenched my fists, my palm burning with pain as I zipped home as fast as those wheels could carry me. But no matter how hard I bite my lip, it bleeds before it stops the flow. I don’t exactly know why I cried that day when I could keep it in on so many others. But the tears fell, and the sand in the breeze stung my face as I pushed myself faster and faster.

I threw off my rollerblades at the door and tried to sneak inside without being noticed, holding them by the laces. But apparently, not being noticed was too much to ask for. My mother was sitting on the leather sofa in the living room, and as she stood to her full dominating height, I knew she was drunk. My mind jumped to Ella, it had been an hour since Mrs.Fiona was supposed to have left.

“Where have you been? You were supposed to have been home twenty minutes ago.” She narrowed her eyes.

“I had to talk to the teacher.” I grumbled, I tried to walk around her, but she blocked me. It wasn’t a complete lie, even my mother knew that I hated to lie.

“Why were you crying? Why is your lip bleeding?” She snapped drunkenly, stumblingly she reached for me and I took a little step back.

I wanted so badly to say, ‘You, You’re the reason why.’, but I didn’t. I would never be brave enough to say that to a woman who scared me so much. “I don’t want to talk to you.” I said abruptly and tried to shove my way past her, it worked for a moment, I had gotten up three stairs before her delayed reflexes kicked in and she grabbed my ankle, I gripped the hand-rail as she shrieked at me, and I attempted to kick her off. It took a hard jab in her jaw to make her grip slacken enough for me to slip my foot out of her grasp, leaving red lines from her long manicured nails as they scraped at my skin.

I bolted up the stairs as quickly as I could as she barreled after me, screaming like a banshee all the way. I slammed and locked my bedroom door behind me, and I heard her breathing heavily just outside.

“You have to come out sometime!” She shouted angrily. “There’s no way you can stay in there forever!”

I looked over at my clock, 4:10pm. I worried about Ella, but when I glanced outside I could see her in the gardens with her dolls. If I was lucky, she wouldn't have heard our scuffle, and she knew well enough to stay out there with the gardeners until Hallen came home. My lower lip trembled, and I grabbed my VR headset without a second thought. The DragonKeep chip was still in the card slot, DragonKeep-the latest and most popular game in the mmorpg realm, created by my step-fathers company. It had been out about six months at that point, and any gamer who was worth their weight in points was playing it. It was a fantasy game, with quests, dungeons, and magic- and the neurosensors were revolutionary. Everything felt so real- you would swear that it all truly was. Down to the faintest breath of wind against the folds of your avatar's clothing.

I pulled on the headband, the sun that came in through my bay windows was obnoxiously bright. I slid the vizor down in front of my eyes and lay down in my bed. All I could see was white for just a moment, and then a faint tugging sensation at my feet.

I didn’t know that that obnoxiously bright sunlight would be the last pure sunlight I would see, that that argument with my mother would be the last interaction with her, that seeing Ella in that garden playing with her dolls from a distance would be the last time I would see her, the last time I would see any of my real life-

For over five long years.

I never knew…….

None of us knew……

And I never even got to say goodbye……

Only a handful of us did…...

And that fact haunts us forever….

Author's Note

I started writing this...I don't really know how long ago, and am coming back to re-writing it now. Any feedback would be appreciated. (And if you want a character or have a great idea for one, feel free to tell me. This book will need lots of extras, as you'll read)