August 16th - it’s our one year anniversary. Nate and I are sitting in a small Italian restaurant, an empty bottle of red wine between us. We’ve ordered another. It’s easier to let myself forget, to simply exist in this moment I’ve created, with the soft veil of alcohol clouding my thoughts. I feel myself slipping into the skin of the person that I’ve been waiting for all evening, like I’ve shifted into a parallel reality. This Lucy is flirtatious, care-free, basking in the candle-lit glow of a perfect romance.

Nate is everything I wanted after all. Handsome, stable, fun, sweet. We spend our time together roaming the city, bar-hopping with adoring friends, then slipping away to a dark corner to indulge wandering hands, our bodies familiar but mysterious still. It’s the type of love where arguments and resentment don’t exist, like trying to ignite a flame in a vacuum. There’s simply no air between us. “Lucy?” Nate puts a gentle hand over mine, which have been folding and unfolding a straw wrapper for an unknown amount of time.

“Did you want dessert?”

“Oh, uh, no thank you.” I respond, my words slightly slurred. “I’ll stick with the wine.” “Just the check then, thank you.” Nate addresses the waiter who’s been anxiously hovering over my right shoulder. I can feel him towering over me, and though I can’t see his face without turning awkwardly, I somehow feel a piercing gaze boring a hole in my back. Sometimes I wonder if people can tell just by looking at me that I’m keeping an enormous secret. That tonight Nate and I will make love, and then I’ll go home to my boyfriend. — Max and I met my senior year of college. I don’t remember going on any dates or being wooed with flowers and fancy meals. There was simply a day that he didn’t exist, and the next day he did. And once he was in my life he consumed every thought that crept into my tired brain.

It’s true that I’d been somewhat desperate for a boyfriend at this point. The long nights of drinking and searching with wandering eyes for someone equally lonely were getting stale. It wasn’t particularly difficult to find company though. I’d learned to embrace my subtle beauty and gentle curves, tamed my wild, strawberry blonde hair, and played up my long pale legs with heels that toned my muscles, but didn’t make me taller than most men.

After living a plump, pimply existence through childhood and adolescence, I harnessed this newfound power of seduction with the voraciousness of a vampire. I spent more time chiseling away at my body with hours of exercise and carefully planned meals. I wore my hair up because men complimented me more when it was pulled into a tight, high ponytail. It became easier and easier to fill the holes created by teenage bullies and endless nights alone.

And yet, after just a couple years, my body felt empty, like I’d already given everything away. Every new touch felt the same, boring. I craved something passionate that would send adrenaline coursing through my veins, like the very first time I locked eyes with a stranger and just knew in that instant that he was mine for the night. So when I met Max in line at a coffee shop near campus, something lit up inside me that I’d forgotten was there. Less than a second after “Hi, my name is Max” and “I’m Lucy,” he bent so close to my ear that I could feel the loose hair from my ponytail brushing his cheeks.

“You’re driving me crazy in that skirt,” he hummed.

He was handsome in a non-traditional way, his skin an unknown shade of pale brown, his hair messy, but purposefully so. His eyes were dark, with a gravitational pull unlike anything I’d known.

We spent an hour talking over cappuccinos, absent mindedly sipping the deflated foam until the cups were dry. I skipped class, and frankly, didn’t think once about going after our conversation began.

Max asked me question after question - Where did I grow up? Why did I choose to study literature? What was I scared of? - it was like he was a magician pulling an endless string of scarves out of my mouth only to be left with a mess of rainbow-colored silk. I was spread open, naked in front of him and I knew nothing about him. When he asked me to come back to his apartment, a modern loft with sweeping views of the Seattle skyline, I quickly answered “yes.”

__ “Let’s take a walk, yeah?” Nate holds out his hand and lets it linger as I remove my sweater outside the restaurant. The wine has created a rush of heat through my body that was masked by the crisp air conditioning inside. In a single motion Nate tosses the freed sweater over his shoulder and takes my sweaty hand, guiding us confidently.

“You’re on a mission, huh?” I giggle through a hiccup. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just enjoying a brisk walk with the most beautiful girl in the city.” Our banter is one of my favorite things about my relationship with Nate. We tease and poke each other in a way that’s never felt safe before, but that now feels as easy as laughing at a stupid joke with your best friend. I laugh so often in fact, that I have a near constant pain in my ribs. So very different from the one in my stomach, a malicious knot born from nightly sobs on the bathroom floor.

Nate loves my laugh too, and every time I let out a true howl, he pulls me close and kisses the little creases around my mouth that never seem to disappear when I’m with him. This time he hovers over my lips for a moment, crouching down slightly so our faces are aligned. His is strong and tan, lined with stubble that softens the sharpness of his jaw. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

We keep walking toward the pier, the city alive and swelling with laughter and music. People here know to enjoy the clear skies and warm breeze while it still exists. The water laps playfully against regal sailboats and luxury yachts, but inside I feel perfectly still. I’ve learned to savor these tiny moments where nothing exists outside the air I’m breathing, and choices have no meaning. “Lucy?” “Hmmm?” My eyes are closed and the back of my head rests against Nate’s chest, his arms around my waist. “Can I ask you something?” I tiny swell of energy surges through my chest, though I keep my eyes closed in some manner of self defense. I don’t like questions like this. Not in my predicament. “Sure.”

“Will you move in with me?” The lump in my throat drops to the pit of my stomach, awakening that familiar throb of pain. I hold my breath and try to slow the thoughts flying through my head, like sheets of paper in the wind. It gets easier with practice - lying. But each deception is a piece of straw forming this flimsy house I’ve built for myself, and in this moment I realize that I’ll have to decide how to destroy it: with fire or wind.

__ I didn’t leave Max’s apartment for three days. Hell, I didn’t leave his bedroom for three days. The sex was rough and raw and real, and in the hours between I slept, letting my body recover. The bruises settled into my skin as though they’d always meant to be there. It was easy, at first, to ignore the way they multiplied.

We’d made a mess of his place, dirty sheets and clothes strewn about. Empty take-out containers lining bookcases and the kitchen counter. His cat, Dixie, stayed curled in the window sill all day long, occasionally glancing over at us with judgmental eyes. “I’m going to need the apartment to myself for a bit,” Max declared one afternoon, climbing off of me. “Oh, yeah sure.” It’s not like I’d expected to stay there forever. The fake illness I was battling got me excused from five classes that week, but I’d need to spend hours catching up.

I wasn’t prepared for the sting though. Max was a bandaid covering every inch of my bare skin, and he’d been ripped away with no warning. I was left red and tender.

“I’m sure you have to get back to work,” I added, making up a logical explanation for his sudden desire to be apart. But that likely wasn’t true. Max had a cushy job in tech that allowed him to work whenever he wanted, often through the night while I slept curled up next to him.

When I walked out of his building an overwhelming sense of fear and isolation washed over me. I was completely invisible to everyone I passed on the walk home, and in some ways, I was convinced Max was the only person who would ever be able to see me again.

We spent the next month in the same cycle - fuck, eat, sleep - and in between I’d try to pry tiny pieces of information from him. About his family, his life. But after muttering a couple vague answers, the conversation always ended in sex. His mouth covering mine, keeping me from digging too deep. His hands around my throat, getting a little tighter each time. I knew there was something dark in him, I wasn’t oblivious. I’d try and meet his gaze while he thrusted, hard, in me, but it was like looking down an endless well. Afterwards, we’d lay silent, comfortable in this ambiguous routine.

"Let’s go to dinner tonight?” I asked, my head on his chest. “I don’t really feel like going anywhere.” “Oh okay. It’s just…we never really go out.” Max pulled himself away from me, my head falling to the bare mattress. The sheets and mattress cover tangled at the end of the bed. “Is this not enough for you or something?” He stood abruptly and put his boxers on. “I…I..didn’t say that at all,” I stumbled, replaying the last few seconds and searching for where I went wrong.

“It just seems like you’re guilting me or something. I mean, you practically live here now what more do you want?” “Max, I…I thought you wanted me here, Jesus.”

I sat up, reaching for the covers to wrap around my vulnerable, naked body. “Now you’re just twisting my words! I didn’t say I don’t want you here” Max spoke slowly and with force. It was like the words were coming from deep within him, sparks flying off a raging fire. “Max, calm down, I’m not trying to argue with you!” “Damn it, Lucy!”

I didn’t see the water glass Max had picked up until it hit the wall. Shards scattered across the floor, with a few glittering fragments making it all the way to the bed sheets. I felt frozen, like moving might physically cause me pain - the glass leaping through the air to pierce my skin. The tears came in one big swell, uninvited, but unavoidable.

Max sighed. “I’m sorry.” With his head hung he inched his way back to me. “I’m so sorry.” Ignoring the glass he crawled into my arms, and I wrapped them around his sagging shoulders. We sat like that for 30 minutes - or maybe an hour, I don’t know - our bodies melting into one. _ “Lucy? You with me?” Nate cups my face in his hands, his eyes sparkling expectantly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” “I want to live with you, Lucy. I want to do this,” he expands his arms, gesturing to the world around us, “together.” “I’m just… surprised I guess,” I force a small laugh to lighten the moment. “Do you remember the day we met?”

Of course I do. “Yes.” “You had come into the pet store crying…”

I think back to that day, the tiny store where Nate worked on the weekends while he finished law school.

“Your…dog had just died,” Nate adds carefully, always worried that any mention of this fictional creature would upset me. “And you just wanted to be around some animals.”

Also wrong. The feeling returns immediately. The hole in my chest, the walk to the pet store to buy Max’s cat some more food because he was out and I needed to breathe. My arm still red and sore from where he grabbed me, his words reverberating in my head. Why do you push me like this?!” “ I knew from the first moment I saw you,” Nate whispers close to my face. “That I wanted to be with you, that you were special.” I never expected it to come to this. I deserved it after all, didn’t I? I deserved some warmth and kindness in the midst of all the distress. It wasn’t even a decision, not really. Nate just…happened. “Nate…I…” choices, lies, the truth, pain. “I have to tell you something.” _ Max and I never had a discussion about being “official.” During one of the rare instances we had dinner with his college best friend, he introduced me as his girlfriend and in that moment, it felt like the very first time we met. I couldn’t hide the grin that grew on my face, the heat in my cheeks. It was the reward I needed, the one I’d hoped might be coming. “So, you called me your girlfriend today,” I said when we were in bed later, my voice idiotically giddy. “Oh, yeah, I guess so.”

There it was, the pin in my balloon that was constantly being inflated then popped. I was nothing but holes at this point.

“So, I’m your girlfriend then? And you’re my boyfriend?”

“Why do you have to make everything such a big deal, Lucy.” “I’m not, I just want to know how you feel about…this.” I put my hands out indicating the proverbial us to which I’m referring. “You know I love you.”

I did. He’d said it many times, the first being two months after we met.

“Yeah, but…” “But what!”

His body grew tense, sitting up arrow-straight in the bed. Tears started stinging the backs of my eyelids. I did my best to hold them back, my forehead straining with effort. Crying only made things worse.

“Sometimes it feels like you’re using me. Like I’m not really your…partner or whatever.” “Oh my god,” Max sighed, exhaling a frustrated growl at the end. “We spend practically all our time together, I mean, why are you trying to control me like this?” “I’m not trying to control you, Max,” my voice was shaking. “I just want some reassurance I guess. Like, are you sleeping with other people? Because I’m not!” I’d said the wrong thing. I knew it before the words were even out of my mouth. We didn’t talk about others . Max’s hand flew to my throat, the tips of his fingers hitting the sensitive muscles that shot pain through my temples. “Lucy…do you not want this anymore? Are you going to leave?” Despite him physically overpowering me, Max looked frightened in that moment, and in his eyes I could see the reflection of my own loneliness. He needed this, needed me. And in a matter of seconds I would apologize, we would forget this ever happened, and we’d sleep soundly in each other’s embrace.

“No. I’ll never leave you, Max.”


It is 5:00 in the morning outside the Samuel Mather Building in Cleveland, Ohio. I am standing by a small black Ford Tempo, called Little Car. We are getting ready to head for Dallas, Texas. The adventure is going to begin. The Samuel Mather building houses my office and I am gathering a handful of items that I need to take with me to Dallas. My clothes, some important items, and personal effects are in the car but the car is small and does not carry as much as would be preferable. In part because, there on the front seat, in her carrier, is Tiramisu, my domestic short-hair cat. Also, best friend and love-of-my-life in many ways.

Cat’s are thought of as independent, aloof, uncaring, not loyal, and some think they view humans as staff. I am firmly of the opinion that this could not be further from the truth. They are not goofy affectionate like their companion animal of the canine persuasion. But in their own way they are fiercely loyal and they know their person very well. That was Tiramisu and I.

I remember when my partner and I went to pick a kitten from a litter that some friends had. I sat down to watch a ball game while my partner selected a kitten. As she sorted through the various options, Tiramisu came over to the couch, climbed on my lap, and turned to watch the game. Well, the only thing better than picking out a new family member is having the new family member pick you out, and so Tiramisu, as a tiny kitten came home.

That was four years before we embarked on our trip. My partner had been transferred to Dallas and I was going to be working remotely for a good bit of each month. Tiramisu was clearly unhappy about getting up early, getting into a carrier, and heading out into the cool morning, with literally no consultation on what her preference would be.

We began our drive to Dallas right out of downtown, hopping on I 71 out of Cleveland headed south. It takes five hours to clear Ohio and it was with a sense of saddness we crossed the old bridge that takes you from Cincinnati into Kentucky. That was about noon and the sun was up and the day was warming up.

Tiramisu had calmed down and since she was a very well-behaved cat to begin with, which is not to say she gave one damn about being good, she simply saw no value in being contrary. Her mantra appeared to be, “let’s get comfortable and see what this human of mine is going to do now.”

That being the case I felt comfortable turning the carrier so that the door faced towards me and I propped it open. She was able to crawl forward so she was half in the carrier and half on the seat and could look up at me, and we could speak. It also gave her access, should she need it to her litter, which was on the floor. Note, if you have not done the math, the entire front passenger seat was hers.

We rolled the windows down and the warm air flowed through the car as we cruised south through Kentucky, and then Tennessee. We saw a lot of activity associated with the agrarian industries prevalent in that part of the country. One notable example was a truck that we passed full of livestock. I remember, Tiramisu, looking up at me with a “what the hell” look of alarm, or perhaps morbid curiosity, who can tell which at that point?

Feeling nothing was to be gained by telling her the truth, especially one of which I was not comfortable nor certain, I reassured her they were on a field trip and there was no reason for her to have any concern, and on our way we went.

In Arkansas I found a rest area and very cautiously took her from the car and we had a meal. She was able to touch grass and relax away from the car. I hovered lest she bolt but she was well behaved. Then I put her back in the car, gave her some privacy (she was a lady), and I cleaned up from our impromptu picnic.

We headed on our way, Texas loomed out there and our new home beckoned.

Around midnight, we headed into Texas and began the trek west toward Dallas, with Texarkana in our rear-view mirror. By now the diet cokes and coffee were working less and less and, we were getting very tired. Up ahead we saw a rest area and, since it said rest right in the name, that seemed a good place to stop for a bit. We pulled in, parked the car, rolled the windows up, and tilted the driver’s seat back. And I dozed.

I have no clue how long I slept but all of a sudden I felt a set of eyes on me. I opened my eyes and there perched on my chest was an old friend who clearly wanted to know, “what-in-the-hell” was going on. We had a whole day invested in the adventure and now, based on smells and her dead reckoning, we were clearly a long way from home. I wrapped my arms around her and assured her that we were just going to see her mom and she would be living in a new wonderful home in a really great state. She looked doubtful. I fear my credibility was not high at this point.

After an hour or so, we headed off to finish our drive to Dallas. We rolled into town around 7:00 in the morning. Subtracting stops, we were around 20 hours on the road but now, we were at our new home.

Since that trip, she has made it back and forth three additional times and actually got really good at that trip. She was a trooper. But I remember feeling like if there was anyone with whom I wanted to travel, and there are very few, there are none who I enjoyed traveling with as much as I did my sweet Tiramisu.


There is so much hollow fury inside me. Hollow because the lights are out. There used to be lights inside of me but I short-circuited, and they all went out. Nobody knows how much fury I contain because there is no way to express it. A year of my life has dripped down the drain before it even had a chance to start. It happens, during power outages. Things break. Things fall. I am still falling. I was going to spend a year in Germany. I was going to work, I was going to meet new people, I was going to gain independence and I was going to learn. So, so much. But I had an epileptic episode coming off the plane, and all those lights went out. I thought I had only fainted, from lack of sleep. It didn’t feel like it usually does, with the tingling and the light plays behind my eyelids. But it was a five-hour seizure and an induced coma. I convulsed like an overloaded toy no one can turn off until it runs itself out. So they told me-I wasn’t there for any of it. For me, all the lights went out. They took me to a hospital. They put a tube inside me and took my clothes off to do it, and I have no idea how many people saw me naked. I have no idea who they are and no one expects me to ask. The corners of my mouth are still cut deep and I put calendula cream on them every day. My throat hurts from the ghost of the tube and I can’t talk, really, only rasp. I worry that I won’t be able to sing like I used to. But I’m not supposed to worry. I’m supposed to get better. I am no longer that independent adult going to work in Germany, I am once again my parents’ daughter, expected to do what is good for me. For my physical wellbeing. My limbs tremble every time I move them. I am dizzy, all the time. The nurses are French. They are wonderful people. There’s no one else I’d rather be with, now that all the lights inside me are out. Kind, sensible, considerate strangers. I wish my parents weren’t here, taking my powerlessness as a matter of course. I wish I could run away from them and take my powerless self to Germany, where all the sockets are. Where am I suppose to find other sockets? Back home? Waiting while everyone else I know is in college? Scrambling for a job my parents will have to drive me to? Polishing the language I worked so hard to learn, knowing the chances are slim to none, that I’ll ever get to use it? Always out of the loop. I wanted so badly to make that a good thing. There are two female nurses who take care of me, who joke and laugh and help me polish my French in the best of ways. Talking. Trying to understand. There are a couple male nurses who check up on me once in a while who are hella cute. I wish I could stay awake and spend more time talking to the nurses, but then again, I have never enjoyed sleeping so much as now. I don’t feel like listening to music, don’t feel like watching tv, like eating, or writing. Nothing. Just watching the nurses, listening to their talk. When I first woke up, one of the aforementioned female nurses took me to the bathroom and wiped my butt and helped me bathe with baby wipes. I was too tired to care-my heart is an open, busted wire with frayed ends. I don’t know if my dad saw me naked. He took a picture of my face with the tube in it, pale skin and punctured mouth and the impression of near-death. He refuses to delete it. My mom says I should leave him alone, that it’s part of his ‘process’ to have, to look at, to possess the power of deciding whether or not to delete that sickening thing. It’s my face, I want to say. But I am powerless. He isn’t. He should never have taken that picture-fathers take pictures for the sake of remembering beautiful moments. Why did he take that picture? To agonize over, in case I bit it? Out of horrified fascination? What made him pull out his camera while I was lying comatose, breathing through a plastic trachea? What was he thinking? I say nothing. I don’t ask. Because it was they who went through hell, not I. The least I can do is be considerate. I wish I wasn’t so fucking considerate. I am a broken object in a workshop. A tiny world revolves around me-I am acted upon. I go outside in a wheelchair, to a little bistro inside the hospital. There’s this delicious orange juice and delicious salad order that I know I won’t get anywhere else. And I can order them every day. I polish my French with lovely people…God, the French are so diverse. They dress so differently-dress so well. Every shade of skin color, every style of clothing in every color imaginable. All in impeccable taste. Pale, sun-brown, dark, tall, petite, skinny, curvy…they all know what works for them. I have not seen a single person who isn’t worthy of a runway. I am an object, an invalid, so I am allowed to stare. And there is so much beauty to stare at. Outside, the hospital is filled with flowers. The sky is Disney-movie blue. If I could stay here and stare my whole life long…I wouldn’t mind it. Driving a wheelchair is fun. Being driven, by my parents… I get too tired, too often, to mind. And there is so much more to mind about. But to act-I am deadly afraid of acting, of having to act again. What a frightful effort, that is going to be. My friends threw me a goodbye party. My grandmother told me, as I left, “I didn’t think you’d make it. But you have.” I still have the gifts in my suitcase, meant for my host family. A pen for Uschi, a palm grill fan for Miguel, books in Spanish for the kids, Albert and Nico. My favorite books. I wanted so bad to read with them. I made an Instagram account just to document this year. Just to share it. I wouldn’t have minded dying. Wouldn’t have minded at all.


Community service sucks. Community service sucks even more when you're sixteen and this was supposed to be your spring break. Community service sucks, even more, when you're assigned to slaving away in some random old woman's garden all day while your friends get to do things like chill out on the beach and stay up all night. But the part that sucks the most? Knowing I'm only having to do it because of my own mother, to begin with. Apparently, I smoke too much for her to handle anymore (which I think is a little bit dramatic, but whatever). I'm not sure how rebuilding an old widow's garden for the majority of my spring break is going to fix what I don't even consider a problem, but it's not like I really got to say much in the final decision-making process. It turns out, that when you're under suspicion of being a so-called 'addict', nobody really cares what defenses you have to give. When you're a low-life, you're going to be treated like one. Even though you're not actually one; people in Crestview just don't get it. And thanks to that, now I don't get to enjoy my spring break. Well, that's what my mom and probation officer want, anyway. Of course, I'm still going to spend my break the way I want to, I'm just kind of limited to hours after 7 p.m. now; that's why tonight my plans start at 7:01 and don't stop until I say they do. Screw whatever chance of a curfew my mom thought she had left. "Jay! You gotta go!", Mom's voice cuts through the house like a shrill and I roll my eyes. "Yeah.", I yell back down. Today's the day my service starts and I couldn't be more ready for something to be over. I slipped on my "VOLUNTEER" vest and give myself one last look in the mirror and think to myself "t his orange is so vibrant I might be able to be convinced that I'm high right now". As soon as my feet hit the hallway carpet outside of my bedroom, I immediately felt Mom's gaze on me from the bottom of the stairs. I turn to her and notice a couple tears welling up in her eyes. Apart from me wanting to feel bad because I know that she really is just worried about me, I can't. Instead, all I feel is an annoyance. I mean, come on . It really isn't this serious for me to smoke a little weed. "Mom. Chill out.", I say as I brush past her in the stairway. She takes a deep sigh and I immediately regret what I said. Not because it's untrue-- she does need to chill out-- but because I don't want to deal with the conversation I'm about to cause. I know I'm in for it. "I'm so sorry that I never wanted to send my child to be rehabilitated.", she finally says. She's kidding, right? "Rehabilitated?!", I yell in genuine disbelief. "Mom, I'm going down the street to help Ms. Glen plant her garden, not to a fuckin' rehab center. And yes you did want to! You're the reason why I'm even going anyway!" My heartbeat was so heavy that I'm sure even she could hear it from the outside. Mom puts her hands up in surrender and takes another of her characterizing deep sighs. " You are the reason why you are going. When my only two options as a mother are to either bail you out and sign in court that you'll do some community service or let you stay caught on a simple possession charge, I really think I did you a favor in what I chose. I am so sorry you have to sacrifice some of your time now to save yourself in the long run. There's a difference between doing what I want and doing what's necessary, Jay. One day, I really hope you realize that." With that, she was back in the kitchen cleaning and I was out on the front lawn estimating that the walk to Ms. Glen's would take me about four minutes from my porch to hers. It's the second house to the last on the left side of the street, and all stark white besides the red shutters. Her nephew still power-washed the exterior for her and knowing that made me wonder why he couldn't have just been the one to come rebuild this garden for her. I'm pretty sure the only reason Mom even chose me to do it for my supposed 'rehabilitation' was that she expected me to enjoy giving back so much that I would start volunteering on my own and bringing her fruits and vegetables once they grew or get inspired and start my own at home or something. She loved putting unrealistic standards like that on me and saying it was just her 'seeing all of my potentials'. Up until her husband had died almost eight months ago, the Glens' garden had been the pride of the south end of our cul-de-sac. Every summer the vegetables would grow in surplus and we'd all take trips down to their house for watermelons, carrots, tomatoes, you name it. This summer was going to be the first without Mr. Glen's green thumb to get us through the heat, but luckily my mom got way too involved in my life just in time to force me into being the one to take his place. I just hope Ms. Glen's not too much of the talkative type now that she doesn't have anyone else to riff off of. I just wanna get what I have to do done and go catch up on the fun I should have all day, every day of the next two weeks to have. I mean, really how fair is it that the same people I "smoke too much" with are still all together at Nathan's right now doing exactly that, but I'm stuck here walking up an old woman's front porch steps to clock in for the day. I'm greeted with a "Well, hey honey." when I walk through the banisters and when I look to where it came from I see Ms. Glen sitting in a rocking chair in the right corner of the porch. "Uh... hey.", I stumble. "I'm supposed to be here to help you start this season's garden?" She gives me a squint and I took that as my chance to wish she would've said she had no idea what I was talking about. She didn't, though. Instead, she pried on me over what I'd done to "wind up" in my "position". I might not be able to feel guilty about my mom's overreacting, but what I do feel guilty about is having to tell a seventy-three-year-old woman whose husband just died from lung cancer that I'm only here to help her with her garden because my neighbor caught me smoking and couldn't keep his mouth shut. Seriously, who calls the cops on a kid for doing something literally every kid does? That was literally all the justification Mom needed to criminalize it, and she wasted no time in doing it. Speaking of wasting no time, that's exactly what Ms. Glen did when she put me out the back door with an illegible but long list of things to get done. When Mom said "help Ms. Glen", I didn't know she meant to do everything for her. I understand she's old and whatever, but she isn't dead--because if she were, I'd be at Nathan's. The only words I could make out from her elderly chicken scratch were 'tomato cages', 'fertilizer', and 'squash', so those were the only things I was even going to bother getting done. If I could drag things out long enough, I'd be able to finish maybe one of those three by tomorrow. Realistically, for every eight hours of work I was supposed to be doing for the next ten days, I was only going to do about an hour.  That should have been plenty for Ms. Glen to be thankful for, and as long as the eighty hours technically were accounted for Mom couldn't even argue anything over it. Besides, it's not like I was actually being supervised. Ms. Glen could barely walk, let alone have the energy to even stand and watch me from her window all day. I began to think that maybe this wouldn't be so bad if I could actually get away with sitting around outside all day and just pretending to work. Unfortunately, my deep thinking was interrupted by a familiar voice coming over the Glen house's fence. "Jay? What you doin' down here?", was what it said and I knew exactly who I'd be met with once I turned around-- Carter Venice, aka the worst person to have possibly seen me here. Still, I turned around. Carter and I were friends, it's just that you can imagine how annoying having to explain the situation to him was. "Damn, so you not gonna be over at Nate's any this week then?", Carter asked me and I rolled my eyes hard. "Not 'til after 7. But by then I'm sure everyone will have moved on to something else for the night, ya know.", was my reply. Carter did know because he was a part of the 'everyone' who couldn't sit still for too long and constantly needed the next thrill. That's how I wanted to be spending my whole spring break too but now I couldn't even take a trip overnight since I had to be at Ms. Glen's by noon every day. As we were wrapping the conversation up, I noticed Carter's eyes start to wander to the far right corner of the fenced-in backyard behind me. "Bro, what are you looking at", I finally asked him and he just pointed and asked me a question back. "What is that over there?". I followed his finger's direction until my eyes met with a flourishing green plant tucked over into the side of the yard, but I didn't have an answer for him. "I don't know? I haven't done anything yet and I have no idea what she wrote on the to-do list she gave me. Why?" "Dude, no. Look at the leaves." I readjusted my eyes and looked again. Holy shit. My silence must have given my reaction away because Carter was the next to speak again. "There's no way that's what I think it is, right?", was what he said, and I didn't even know how to respond. "I don't think so? It's gotta be something else." There was just no way Ms. Glen was growing marijuana in her backyard. "Well go dig it up and let me take it home and find out." I turned around to face him again. "What?", I laughed, but he didn't. "Oh. You're serious?" "Why wouldn't I be serious?" "Bro, why would you? You actually want me to go pull that whole plant up for you right now?" "Nah, bro. I want you to go pull that whole plant up for us. Us and Nathan and everyone else bro. Come on. You're already the bummer of spring break, you might as well bring some good with you when you can finally show up. Ya know." I hated how easily he convinced me, but he was right. I was going to be the one missing out on what everyone else was doing, so I might as well make the best of it and get something good out of this. Stealing an old woman's weed plant would definitely make everyone forget I ever had this stupid restriction anyway. The next thing I knew, I was behind a shovel hacking away at roots and ripping the soil from under the plant. The leaves were pointy and spread out, and the whole thing was practically growing green. If this wasn't weed, it sure was a good imposter. I grabbed a spare terracotta pot from inside the shed and placed the plant inside before delicately handing it over the fence to Carter. "Take care of it. I'm serious. That's about to get us through high school." I joked as he walked away. For the next seven hours, all I could think about was whether or not Carter had told anybody or done anything with it yet. Finally, my eight hours of bullshitting were officially allowed to be over and I could go hang out with everyone, but when I walked through the back door my hastiness to leave was halted by Ms. Glen who was standing at her kitchen island with her walker waiting for me. "Did you get a lot finished for me?", she asked. "Oh yeah. Tons.", I lied and turned to finish exiting her home. "Did you see the Japanese maple I wrote down about?" The what? Oh. That must have been what 'Vopamese naple' on the list meant. "I did.", I lied again. "Doesn't it look nice over in that shaded corner? Bill planted that years ago for me, and now that he's gone it's my favorite. That's why I put it first on your list. I want extra good care taken of that one." I froze. The shaded corner? That's where... * * * "Carter?", my voice floats through the phone. "Google green Japanese maple and then meet me at Starkey's flower shop."


**Content Warning! Before reading please know this short story has themes of self harm, death, depression/medication. Please read at your own discretion, and know this is a work of fiction. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 800-273-8255 Help is always available. I looked around my Aunt’s empty guest bedroom. There was quite literally nothing in the room save for a small, twin sized bed and a dresser. I smoothed the comforter on the bed and sat atop the untouched blanket. I took a deep breath and smelled the clean air in the room- it reminded me nothing of home. I didn’t feel sad about moving, the only thing Klarksburg had to offer was my mom, and now that she’s gone there’s no point in being trapped there any longer. I heard voices and footsteps coming up the stairs as my aunt and uncle rounded the corner to come into the guest room. They were carrying a large chest- my only ‘suitcase’, containing all of my possessions. They sat the heavy chest down with a thud. Aunt Suzie brushed her hands together, “Whoo! All in a days work, huh? Get yourself settled in honey, then we’ll assess what you have and don’t have, and we’ll take a trip to the mall in a few days, alright? Uncle Kenny and I are gonna go start on dinner, holler if ya need anything, darlin’!” She said as she laid a gentle yet reassuring hand on my shoulder. She kissed my head and walked to leave the room, uncle Kenny winked at me while leaning on the door jamb. Once aunt Suzie left the room, he followed behind her, and pulled my door shut. I took a moment to breathe, and squeezed my eyes shut. “Okay Lea. Everything is fine. Breathe. Things will feel normal soon.” I stood from the bed, and kneeled in front of my chest, noting how rough the carpet felt against my knees. It reminded me of being a little kid, knees pressed against the hot sidewalk while I drew chalk-masterpieces. My mom would stand behind me ooh-ing and ah-ing in ‘amazement’ in order to encourage me- maybe I’d grow to become an artist, she couldn’t crush my dreams- she’d said once I was older and asked about the false encouragement. I shook my head as if to be physically shaking away the memory, and opened my chest to begin unpacking.

A few hours and one slightly uncomfortable family dinner later, I had my pajamas on ready to climb into bed when there was a gentle knock at my door. I quietly invited them in, the door slowly opened and my aunt suzie’s small frame replaced the closed door. She came in and closed the door gently behind her. “Hey junebug. I just wanted to come check in on you before bed, and give you a hug. Talk to ya a little. How are you doin’, bug? Really?” The bed dipped slightly as she sat next to me, turned a bit to be facing me. I hadn’t been asked how I was since the day after the incident, I felt my eyes lightly well with tears. “I- I um. I really appreciate you guys taking me in aunt Suz. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you guys weren’t there.” Memories from that night flashed through my mind, inciting the pain all over again. I looked up to meet my aunt’s eyes, she met my glance with not sympathy but empathy. After all, it was her sister. I wasn’t the only one struggling. “Listen sweets, I just want you to know this is your home now. We’re here for you. Any need, any question, you’ve got it. Your mom told me about a month ago you have a girlfriend back home? We’ll help facilitate you seeing her however you need, junebug.” Hearing my aunt say this caught me by surprise and I burst out laughing, it was clear by her face that she wasn’t expecting my reaction. “Oh, aunt Suzie I really appreciate that, but that was just my mom being goofy. We have- uh, had- a neighbor girl my age, we were good friends and my mom liked to tease that we’d get married one day. But..that was before things got bad. The neighbor girl’s parents stopped letting us be friends when mom took a turn for the worse.” I watched my aunt’s face droop in sadness as I spoke. She then quickly grabbed me up in a tight hug, “I am so, so sorry sweetie. You never should’ve had to go through any of this..but you know how hard losing your dad was for your mom.” I nodded along with her words, she reassured me again that I was more than welcome to come get them if I needed anything through the night. She kissed the top of my head and left my room. I laid back in my bed to sleep but as the pattern has been since the incident, I had to relive those moments over and over before I could get any sort of sleep.

My dad was in the armed forces, so we did a lot of moving throughout my childhood. We moved to Klarksburg when I was 14 years old. We’d been there for a year when my dad had to leave. It was a month before I turned 16 when we heard the knock at our door. I was sat at the kitchen table doing homework, my mom went to answer the door. I heard low murmurs and then the most blood-curdling scream I’d ever heard. My heart sunk and I immediately knew what happened. I ran to the door and saw the two uniformed men holding a folded flag with solemn faces, I crumbled to the floor and held my mother as she wept. Because my dad was often enlisted, I didn’t really know him, and my mom was my best friend. But my parents were highschool sweethearts and totally, grossly in love. After my dad died, my mom’s mental health plummeted. I couldn’t blame her, she’d lost her best friend. I started picking up the house chores, and taking care of myself. Mom spent most of her days in bed with the curtains drawn, medicating herself until she was numb. I just did everything I could to keep her alive. I kept her water glasses filled, I re-filled her prescriptions, and picked them up, I spoon-fed her oatmeal and soup, easy things to keep down that her medication wouldn’t cause her to puke up. On particularly bad days when she would sob so loudly it felt as if the walls shook, I laid in bed with her and held her quivering body through the night. But the night that changed everything was different. She’d gotten up out of bed that day, for the first time in weeks, other than to use the bathroom. She came downstairs while I was eating dinner and doing homework. She looked like a zombie, her face sunken in, and her frame small and frail; but she gave me a weak smile. She slowly walked over to me, sat next to me at the table and asked me how my day had been. I felt my eyes fill with happy tears to hear my best friend’s voice. I’d lost all my friends with my mom’s mental health decline and the loss of my dad. I had to take care of her and the house so I had no time for any fun, and no one wanted to come over, they said ‘the house felt too sad’. We had a bit of small talk before she headed back to her room. That night I slept in her bed with her. It was about two AM when I heard the tub running. I rolled over in mom’s bed to see her side of the bed unoccupied, with a small trail of tiny blood droplets. I assumed she’d maybe gotten a nose bleed, but couldn’t understand why the tub was running. Concerned, I jumped out of bed and ran to the door. I knocked a few times, twisted the locked doorknob and heard no answer so I called out, “Mom? Mom are you okay? What are you doing?” There was no answer, and I began to panic. I knocked harder and louder when I felt wetness seeping through my socks. I looked down and saw water flowing under the door, and then pink began swirling through the water. It was then that I knew something was wrong. I tried to slam the door open with my shoulder, to no avail. I grabbed a hammer from my dad’s toolbox which was left perfectly untouched under his side of the bed, and smashed the door as hard as I could, eventually breaking it. I broke through the door and stepped into the flooded bathroom, and saw my mom laying in the tub, passed out, with her wrists slashed open. I screamed in horror, and immediately began crying and screaming her name. I ran to the side of the tub and tried to shake her awake, her skin was hot from the water but her face was cold to the touch. After shaking her and seeing she wouldn’t wake up, I called 911. They came in and took care of everything. She survived after major surgery to save the nerves in her wrist, but they deemed her mentally unsound and incapable of caring for me and herself. I was allowed to visit her the day after she was admitted. As I entered the room, seeing her brought tears to my eyes. I’d never seen my mom so vulnerable, so broken, the light in her eyes was completely gone. She looked up at me slowly as I entered the room, she gave me a weak smile, “Lea..I’m glad to see you. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry you had to see me that way I just...I thought things would be better. I thought with me gone, you’d have a chance at happiness. I’m sorry.” At that moment I felt such anger toward her, “You thought you were helping?! You’re all I have! I have no friends, no family close. I can’t even get a job because I have to be at home caring for you all the time. I know losing dad was hard for you, but you brought me into this world, you already abandoned me by never leaving your room, and now you wanna abandon me completely? Why can’t you just love me the way a normal mom does? Why are you so selfish?!” I yelled at her through my tears, and I ran out of the room. And every night since then, I’ve had to relive the events of this past year over and over before I can sleep.

I woke up exhausted that morning to Aunt Suzie opening my door with a plate of pancakes and bacon. She’d chosen me an outfit for the day, the sun was streaming through the windows, and the blankets smelled clean even after a restless night. That morning I felt a level of relief I hadn’t felt in months, but I also felt a level of guilt I’d never felt before. I had the knowledge that my mom was somewhere in a room full of soft edges, where she was practically spoon-fed medication all day long, forced into therapy sessions lit by florescent lights, and monitored by nurses in sterile, white, scrubs. Meanwhile I sat in a comfy room, on an even comfier bed, and was treated like a queen. I guess the saying about everybody handling grief differently really wasn’t kidding.


This is my quiet place. Its peaceful sitting here looking out of the old rotting window into the darkness of the night, with nothing but street lights memorising you from a distance, nothing but the sparkling stars way up high to give you hope for something greater. I long for more moments like these, there's no fear, no hurt, no worries; its just me, my window and the view. I yawn deeply as I wince my eyes at the bright morning sun peering through the window and stretch as I sit to look around the same old warn down attic bedroom. The room is cramped with old leather chairs and wooden furniture covered in thick white sheets of dust, whilst cob webs hang from corner to corner. My bed is a mattress of broken springs in the centre of the room surrounded by the mountains of junk with the window being the only source of light hovering just above it all. It's most certainly nothing special but its the small price you have to pay for being abandoned by your first family and unwanted by your current. The new mother I live with is the sweetest, unfortunately the same cannot be said about the father. Father is , well ... easily irritated to say the least, he's often shouting at mother and hitting things around, I am not sure if he has laid hands on her as me and my younger brother get sent out of the room when he gets too mad but I have my suspicions. I am 18 in two weeks and have been living with Mr and Mrs Woodworth, who I now refer to as my mother and father, since I was around 6. Originally I am from mexico but my birth parents put me up for adoption for an unknown reason and I had been bouncing around all sorts of homes until Mr and Mrs Woodworth took me in. I was ecstatic to have found a couple that would 'love me,' of course I wouldn't have been so happy if I knew what their family home would turn out to be. "MARIA!" mother shouted "breakfast is ready." I quickly got out of bed and rushed downstairs to avoid making father wait and aggravating him. We have quite an old looking house made of big grey bricks and the inside seems very old fashioned. We have 3 floors and the brick stairs connecting them are large and go around in a spiral pattern, there are some old paintings and a few family pictures mounted to the walls. The floors are made of wood and sound as though you could fall through at any moment and are covered in a thin red carpet. There are 2 bedrooms on the second floor, 2 on the third and one in the attic which is where I sleep, amongst all of the ancient antiques and creepy crawlies that I find in my cloths or half way up my leg in the middle of the night. For some reason father made me move to the attic and mother wouldn't dare to question him so i'm stuck up there breathing in dust and ammonia from past rats fesses that never got cleaned up. On my way down the stairs I accidentally crashed into father half way. I froze as he glared at me with that deafening look in his eye which caused all of the hairs on my body to stand on edge, "sorry father," I stuttered, he stayed silent whilst rolling his eyes and continuing to walk up the stairs. I needed to take a moment to steady my breathing before I carried on the the kitchen. I hated to admit it but I was terrified of him even tho he would never hurt me ... right? He hasn't always been like this, I know its hard to believe but its true. When I first came to live here he was so happy, he loved to be out and about so would often take us to places like the beach or rock climbing and now we're too scared to even ask him to go to the park. It all started when mother found out she was carrying twins after she was told she would never have any, hence why they adopted me, it was a blessing. A miracle! This is when father seemed to have turned on me. Now he was having biological children there was no need for me, at least that's what I assumed because I was never brave enough to confront him about it. He only got worse when the babies where born. You see, one of the babies was born still and there was nothing doctors or nurses could do about it. I think that's why father is the same way with Marcus as he is with me, he blames him for the loss of his other baby. Mother of course knows this isn't true and tries her best to reassure us both that we did nothing wrong. She always comes up with the same excuse that father is just having a bad day but we know that she is just as fearful of him as we are and wouldn't dare tell him to stop storming around or raising his voice. "MARIA!" mother repeated "breakfast is ready." I shouted back "coming mother," and continued to rush down to the kitchen. I finally made it to the table and sat beside Marcus to eat my breakfast. "morning" he said in his dreadful attempt to an american accent, "good day mate," I replied in my attempt to sound Australian, we both started laughing whilst mother stood leaning against the door frame smiling at us whilst she drank her coffee. Life wasn't all bad as long as father wasn't around. Marcus is a shy young boy but around me and mother he really comes out of his bubble, he has the best personality and don't get me started on his little attitude. He has the cutest round face with a little button nose and the thickest glasses which make his big bright blue eyes look even bigger. Knock. Knock. Suddenly there where knocks at the front door which made us all jump, leading to me and Marcus laughing excessively. "stay here, i'l get it," mother said. She left the room and opened to door to find that no one was there, she was about to head back inside before noticing a small box, about the size of a shoe box tied with a ribbon and a label that had my name on it. Mother picked up the box and had another look around to see if anyone was near but she couldn't see anyone. She came back inside, shut the door and returned back into the kitchen. "it's for you," she said whilst handing me the box. Puzzled, I took it "what is it?" I asked, "I don't know, it was sitting on the doorstep," she answered. "open it up," Marcus said excitedly. I pulled the ribbon to untie the knot, placed the box on the table and removed the lid. Inside was a letter, an old baby picture and a small teddy bear. I unfolded the letter and began to read it out loud. The letter read: " To Maria, Hello my darling daughter. I am so sorry that I had to do what I did, it was for your own safety and I hope you know that me and your father love you. You won't be reading this at the time I am writing it but I promise you that by the time you are 18 I will find you and give you this box. In this box is a picture of you with your older sister Natalia for proof if you do not believe my letter. The bear is yours from when you was a baby. I remember how much you loved that bear, I hate to think how upset you was when you had to leave without him, you called him boo bear and you was inseparable. I wish to meat with you. I will explain everything that has happened leading up to now and why now is the perfect time for you to come home, you don't realise how important you are yet. I must go now but my number is written on the back of the picture, give me a message so we can arrange a place, date and time. I will see you soon my precious girl. Love Mum xxx " Once I was done reading the letter I glanced up to see my adopted mother and Marcus staring at me in surprise, no one knew what to say or what to do, "don't tell father," I begged, I knew for sure that he would take the first chance that he could to get rid of me and I for one did not enjoy the thought of living with some stranger who abandoned me all those years ago and I especially was not leaving my mother and Marcus with this monster! Then, out of no where, "don't tell father what?" ...


Szymon Kutchin The Arizona Tundra Before the snow, locals were worrying about the Arizona landscape burning in the July heat. Now, they were dwelling in tunnels made of snow. Almost everyone was ill prepared. Living went from one harsh extreme to another harsher one. The snow had come out of the blue. It was the first snow in Phoenix for several years. At first several thought that it was the hazy grey ash from one of the fires that always seemed nearby. The ashen smoke always dropped the temperature a few degrees, so it seemed logical, but when the temperature dropped below freezing, the members of Phoenix knew that something was not right. This was not ash, but snow. Once government officials realized this, they made orders to import cold weather gear. They made efforts to bring them as quick as possible. They even called a state of emergency in an attempt to receive aid faster. Seeing this unforeseen event, the mayor of Phoenix made a short speech with poise, and cameras galore, to the residents. “Residents of Phoenix, it has come to my attention that we are to expect some severe weather that we are not accustomed to. There are dark clouds spanning over the entire Four Corner Region likely to produce snow for several days. Because the unexpectedness of this blizzard, we are ill prepared to deter the negatives. I have been in constant communication with the four corner states since we got the news, and we have all decided to declare simultaneous states of emergency.  Without safe ways to remove the snow, buildings have a high potential to cave in on themselves. Because of this, I am giving the orders for everyone to grab any possessions of value, particularly clothing and anything that produces heat, and food, then head to State Farm Stadium before the bulk of the snow falls. The stadium dome should be able to hold the weight of the incoming snow. We will wait out the storm there. If you are unable to leave your homes, take all your food and blankets to one location and do your best to stay warm. Power may go out sometime during the Blizzard so do not fret. Stay calm. We will do our best to provide aid to those stranded.” All of the vehicles with plows came to rid the roads of the snow. Even construction crews helped clear the roads to allow trucks to get to the locations that Mayor Newman had mentioned. They cleared the roads to the stadium for as long as possible. The snow fell faster than the trucks could drive. In a matter of hours, only vehicles designed for off-road situations could traverse the ever-deepening snow. All of the plows could not keep up and eventually got halted mid push, halted by the snow. The front-end loaders, bulldozers, and other construction equipment was able to last longer, but the sudden freeze caused many hydraulics to bust. At this point, they gave up trying dig out the roads and just focused bringing what they could to safety. This included animals, food, people and supplies. Once these were moved to one of the locations of safety, all vehicles stopped moving. The roads were too covered and snow drifts already were covering first floor openings. It would be a long, cold night. Only five hours had passed since the snow started to fall and looked like it was not about to stop soon. As well intended his speech was, it created chaos. A mass pilgrimage to the city center would have created chaos without the snow. But with the snow, and drivers that had no idea how to drive in snow-covered terrain ensured that pileups around the city occurred. Vehicles became empty shells of plastic and leather when people abandoned them to make the trek to the city center by foot. People who were prepared for days of iced tea got more than they had bargained for and became man-shaped ice cubes for Mother Nature to enjoy. Some lucky ones were able to make it to the domed stadium wrapped in all of their clothing they owned, or layers of blankets. Frankly, the snow fell too quick for many and they froze on the way there. Many decided to stay home. They perished when the falling snow got too heavy for their roofs to handle. Each collapse created increasingly large chain reactions of falling buildings. As the sky began to brighten from the rising sun, thirty-five feet of snow already fell. Seeing how quick and heavy it was snowing, many people volunteered to help by doing things they knew. In order to survive, they needed to work together. Some members of the community teamed up to sew together warmer clothing from the summer gear most wore. Some started cooking from the food that was brought. Together they made sure that they would do anything they could to survive including change the temperature controls from blowing cold air to cozy warm air. They also tried to dig through the snow. They were figuring that they would stay above the snow line to access the surface and possibly dig out of the snow. These brave men and women ended up making slopes up to the top and piled the snow on the sides. To aid them, a few creative members of the dome community created snowshoes made from stadium seats and straps made from excess tank tops they had. Fifty people went out to assist the dig out. At first, they just dug out an area in front of the main entrance. But when the snow continued to snow, they needed a way to put the snow on top of what already had fallen. So, they made a ramp up to the top. Wanting the snow to hold, a few decided to compact the snow near the entrance so that the snow would be able to hold up more. Soon the compacting had become a tunnel. They made it quite large to accommodate the falling snow. This gap allowed the snow to continue to compact and maintain its strength even though more snow continued to fall. The Diggers continued to dig up to the top while Packers made sure to pack the snow behind them providing the structural support. Sometimes they used seats or other items made loose that members inside kept removing to provide some more support to the snow tunnel. Some of these diggers made it their goal to remove the snow cover from the retractable roof. They did not desire to have their beautiful stadium crumpled like Seeing these tunnels. An architect that made it into the dome decided that make some rooms so that the people would not need to be segregated by class any longer. The inside of the domed stadium. If he was being honest with himself, it was because he was tired of the dome and had an empty canvas to create architecture not seen before. So, he enlisted the aid of a few more members to help dig out the rooms. They became known as the Developers, and others became known as Melters. It was the duty of these people to melt up water from snow to use for the cooks to use. This also removed the snow from areas where it would not be beneficial. Together they teamed up to carry snow up to the surface. After a few tiresome hours of working with the aid of a few Melters and Diggers, a few rooms, large enough to hold a few hundred people were starting to appear. At this time, it was just bare rooms with a few shallow enclaves. The architect wanting them to be deeper and more decorative but was outvoted by the workers to build more rooms as it was more important to create more rooms because even with people uncovering the roof, chances were low that the roof would survive for much longer. So, they ended up recruiting everyone who had enough impromptu warm gear to assist the dig-out. Periodically men and women would go back when they got too cold or tired. They would go over to the fires created on the concrete floor of the dome or would make their way to the executive suites. However,those that originally got in them decided that they did not need to share em with the others. They also decided that they didn’t need to work either. So, the cooks decided that they didn’t need to eat. The ones who came back got covered in blankets near the fire but passed off their hastily made coats to others who were heading out to dig. Sometimes these coats were taking to the ones sewing to add some more layers or mend holes. The entire time, these people were sewing up the clothing and blankets that everyone brought into winter gear. Sure, some looked funny with fifteen or so different shirts, but they were warm. Not the warmest out there sure, but warm enough to keep somebody warm for a few hours while they dug. To add heat, they were heated by the fires to dry them off and to give the wearers a nice transition from the heat to the cold. It was almost midday when the weight of the snow collapsed the glass roof of the dome. The ones on top noticed the weight shifting first and managed to warn the top-siders about the roof collapsing. They were able to send a message to the ones down below. They managed to get out of the center right before the ear shattering crash could be heard. The diggers up top had been clearing the roof in a star like pattern and were removing the snow just behind the snow fall. It was adding up, and they were slowing down. Due to their efforts, they were able to delay the roof crash, but only long enough for a community of sorts to be created. Most of the community was centrally located in the dome, but a few had already moved into the tunnels. The warning did give just enough time for most everyone to remove themselves from the direct center. This meant that injuries were low compared to what they could have been. The diggers on top were unable to leave the roof before the glass fell under the tons of snow on the roof, so they made sure to keep their balance while they surfed down to the center on their snowshoes and shovels made of the red seats. Luckily, the only the center of the roof collapsed, leaving the exterior walls standing. It was also fortunate that it ensured that not a lot of snow would fall on the actual walls or the seats underneath. Several of the executive suits were damaged. The people who wanted the isolation from the community went to stay with the others. They allowed, provided that they aid in the dig out. It was either that or go back to their cold breezy rooms and starve. Fires were restarted and more people moved to the tunnels. The wind was not as prevalent there. Instead, it was quite cozy. The heat was coursing through the tunnels, which kept people warm, but did require packers to consistently pack the dampening snow solid again. The diggers over by the ground had discovered some flat pieces of steel and leather while making the rooms. It took them a while that these elements of a scrap yard actually were their cars, crushed by the many feet of snow. They ended up taking the elements to the builders. They ended up deciding to use the steel as tunnel supports. So, they got to work on reinforcing the crystalline structures of snow in the tunnels and walls of the rooms. The rooms were big. They had dimensions created by the architect and walls with complex engravings and steel intermingled throughout. The steel supports would have looked horrendous had it not been for meticulous placement that created a confounding beauty. It would not have been possible before this disaster struck. The snow slowed its decent at around six that day. Snow drifts rose almost three-quarters of the way up the 235-foot stadium. The snow around the drifts and beyond was fifty feet or so lower. Some spires of snow rose from the distance. A closer look revealed them to be the partially collapsed remains of the skyscrapers on the other side of town. At first, people could not believe that it had stopped. They were starting to believe that it never would. Right before sunset, the snow had stopped. One by one members of the community came out to see the sparkling shimmer that the snow produced in the evening light. The snow was mimicking the sun’s red and gold hues. Fleeting clouds could be seen revealing the sparkle of the distant stars. It was as if the world was telling the members of the community that everything would be okay. They would continue to build their frosty palace. They would continue to work out what to do. Most importantly, THEY WOULD SURVIVE!!!


'What are you thinking?' asked Tim 'Who in the hell has such a time to think and act in such a vindictive way?' countered Mark 'Let us go to the bomb site. We have only ten days.' 'We are not going to find anything over there. It would be better that we interrogate the suspect,' suggested one of the Inspector to his chief, Mark. Mark pulled a chair and sat on it. He closed his eyes and rested his head on his hands. Lost deeply in his web of thoughts, he was analyzing the case in his way. Tim and other Inspectors were looking at Mark with apt silence.

'So, that lunatic is quite sure that the bomb that he is going to detonate is nuclear,' asked Mark 'Yes. The suspect is also quite sure of that. He said that the guy that hired him at gunpoint was boasting about a nuclear bomb,' said Tim 'Bring that suspect over here. Let him spill the beans.' Inspector brought the suspect in handcuffs into the office of Mark. It was Mark's signature move that installed fear into the heart of criminals. Mark would start by offering coffee to the suspect. After that, he would offer him a seat at the edge of the 36th-floor balcony. The view beneath would send shivers down the spine of any suspect when Mark would inform about his intention to throw the suspect out from that balcony.

Many suspects would spill the beans fearing their life. While many would brave dying before saying anything they don't know. Mark would then use VR Glasses and a motorized chair to terror out the truth from the suspect. This stage would guarantee an outcome. 'So, Mr. Burton. You are saying that the guy pointed a gun at you and made you plant the bomb. Luckily, no was one at the bombing site was injured or killed in that blast. Explain to me that where he was pointing the gun when you detonated the bomb,' saying this, Mark switched on the display which played the clip of Mr.Burton detonating the bomb with a remote, and there was no one standing in his vicinity.

'He was standing right below that pillar. He knew the blindspot of the security camera, and he used that knowledge to his advantage,' clarified Mr.Burton 'So the bomber threatened you with a gun and a nuclear bomb?' 'And he also knew the names of my family member. He threatened to kill them all if I don't detonate the bomb.' 'So you choose to kill others than someone kills your own.' 'What would you do, sir?' asked Mr. Burton. 'Personally, I would kill that lunatic monster with my bare hands.' 'No one can risk the life of their family. And I work inside that building, so I knew that it would be empty.' 'He warned you about the nuclear bomb?' 'Yes, he told me to leave the city or perish with nuclear fallout,' clarified Mr.Burton. 'Clear one thing for me. In my life, I have never seen a criminal spare the life of someone who can risk exposing his identity.' 'I don't know that sir but he let me go.' 'Okay, Tim. Take this gentleman to the balcony. Let him have some fresh air.' 'Okay, sir,' said Tim and dragged Mr. Burton to the balcony.

'Let refresh your memory, shall we Mr.Burton?' said Mark. 'Sir, I already said what I know.' The ordeal began, and the conclusion remained the same. Mr. Burton knew nothing.

All he could provide was a sketch of a masked man and a deadline of ten days, now only nine days, after which there would be a nuclear explosion.

The hunt began. FBI joined the search as it was a matter of national security. They scanned the entire city for radiation emission. They failed to locate any source of radiation in the city.

Another bad-luck of that city was its port. The town flourished due to that port, but now the suspect might have used it to bring in the nuclear bomb. The clock was ticking, and so was the bomb. It was only seven days to detonation. 'Sir, see this. You were right about the post,' said Tim and handed over a report to Mark. Mark glanced at and quickly stood up from the chair to grab his coat.

'Let's go,' ordered Mark. 'Wait a minute, Sir. We already raided the house. The importer of that container was shot dead at point-blank range. There was no other document in the apartment to lead us any further.' 'You looked at the obvious. The devil is in the detail. There were two containers loaded from Slovakia. FBI found radiation traces on both of them. One was found abandoned at the port in the next city. Both of them were imported under the same owner. We are going to that port to check the records and also the CCTV,' clarified Mark. They found a masked man driving away with the container from the port. The authority failed to identify him as he stole that container from the docks.

Only four days were remaining, and the agency was nowhere near the suspect. The trail went cold after that port. The Mayor of the city was deliberating whether to tell the people about the nuclear bomb that will trigger panic evacuation or hold the news.

The clue appeared on the third day. One of the patrolling cars found the trailer on the outskirts of the city.

No fingerprints. The footprints on the mud surrounding the trailer confirmed one thing that the masked man was limping.

'Search for airport and port entries for the last four months with travel history to Slovakia,' ordered Mark to Tim. The search began, and it narrowed down on one man. He was a former ambassador to a middle-east nation whose entire family perished in a bomb attack. He asked for help from the government. Due to a lack of proof, the government did not provide him and his family the protection. After that, the terrorist killed his entire family in a bomb blast. He blamed all of it on the government.

Using his previous links, he imported the nuclear bomb and placed it inside the city hall that will take out the city. He did all things with the utmost care, but he was not able to hide his limping. Mark caught him due to that defect. The city police surrounded him in the public park where he was savoring his last hot-dog of the city. He was ready to flee the town as he already narrowed down another pawn that would trigger the bomb.

That pawn heard about the recent bombing and a nuclear bomb in the town. That pawn informed police about the location of the masked man and a nuclear bomb. Based on the input, police located the limping ambassador near a hot-dog stand. He shot himself before anyone can arrest him.

The bomb-squad located the bomb and defused it to save the city from a large scale disaster.


The afternoon was fresh and dry. A new smell of vitality and growth seeped from the forest around him. It was a very welcome change from the week of rain that Fred and Wylma had endured. A week of persistent drizzle that soaked to the bone and gave no chances to dry anything out. Everything he owned was in various states of saturation. Bitter experience had taught Fred to protect at all cost his sleeping bag, but it had also succumbed to the persistent rain and now felt clammy to the touch. Of course Wylma, his 2 wheeled companion, his accomplice on this around the world epic, did not care a wit. The leaden sky continued to threaten rain, but optimistically Fred laid out a pair of socks and two pairs of underwear on top of his panniers in the hopes of drying them in the last kilometres before finally making camp. It was the first chance to do so in what felt like an eternity. The cool wind cooperated, but made Fred shiver with each gust, eventually compelling him to fish out his windbreaker. Summer in Scandinavia was not for the warm blooded. The trail Fred was following was not often used. The grass in the wheel ruts, and lack of any fresh tire tracks made that obvious. He guessed he could camp anywhere here without being discovered. Just as he began to scope out potential camping spots, a single trail split off from this path. He spontaneously took it. The trail wound invitingly amongst the trees deeper into the forest. Suddenly it ended at a small clearing at the foot of a low cliff. The cliff faced east and was blanketed in shadowy secrecy. The forest obscured most of it’s face, but Fred could vaguely make out a darker patch on the rock wall. Now off the bike, he scoped out the site more carefully. The clearing was muddy and wet making Fred ruefully expect yet another night on sloppy ground. As if clairvoyant, the clouds began to release their first tiny drops of rain again. We're going to have a wet night again, he thought. Fred turned his attention to the cliff. Perhaps an overhang may offer some respite. This is when Fred discovered the cave mouth in the cliff wall. Hardly much higher than Fred was tall, but wide enough to drive a car through, the cave promised a night of respite from the rain. For all his bushcraft skills, he didn't know much about caves. This gave him pause. As if embittered by his discovery, the clouds redoubled their efforts and the rain became more substantial. Fred pulled Wylma, and his now wet laundry into the darkness of the cave. The darkness was oppressive till Fred donned his head lamp. The vestibule of the cave offered an ideal space to camp with level ground and space enough for a small fire. But the rear of the cave vanished into murky darkness that the torch could not penetrate. Fred let out a yelp as a casual call to any other occupants. The sound slowly echoed back to him from the bowels of the earth, hinting at the cave’s unseen depths. A tingle of trepidation ran down Fred’s spine. He put the darker thoughts from his mind as he set up for the night. Fred was proud of his own self reliance and fortitude. That pack of hungry Hyenas in Senegal, nor the visit from a curious lion in Tanzania were sufficient to perturb him, so he was adamant a mysterious cave in Finland was not going to get under his skin. He set up a clothes drying line between his tent and Wylma near the warmth of the fire. Soaking socks, wet underwear and a saturated fleece got prime sites near the heat. Once Fred was satisfied with the setup, he ventured out to collect more dead wood for the fire. Now back and settled in, he admired the camp which was ideal despite the slight smokiness. He sat back to begin dinner. As he peeled an onion, Fred noticed the dancing flames were being played by a faint breeze. Air was being sucked into the cave ever so gently. The smokiness somewhat dissipated, but it stirred his dark imagination again. He pushed the congealing dread out of his mind. He came up with a dozen logical explanations to mollify his imagination. The breeze intensified culminating in a short gust, accompanied by a deep rumble emanating from somewhere deep underground - then stillness. Again Fred paused and struggled for calm. After a few silent minutes he resumed his meal preparations. Fred had become quite the camp gourmet. Tonight his favourite tuna mornay was on the menu, with the obligatory surprise ingredient, usually whatever came to hand on the road, this time it was some delicious mushrooms he found in the forest that morning. Now sated, he sat back and lit a cigarette. This was the only vice he carried with him from his previous life. A solitary cigarette, as a desert of sorts, he told himself. Sitting in the stillness, Fred noticed the floating smoke emanating from his lit cigarette was heading for the cave opening. It was too faint to detect otherwise but just as his thought concluded, he could then feel the breeze, ever so gentle. It carried a strange odour. Both earthy and rancid. Not enough to be intolerable, but unpleasant nonetheless. The dying flames of the campfire were now being whipped up by the rapidly strengthening draft. Fred’s tent and laundry now whipped about in it. He began to collect the washing up from his dinner as the wind became a gale whistling toward the cave mouth. Fred’s clothes were now off the line and the tent pitched upward catching the draft. He tried to hold it all together till he lost his footing leaning into the powerful tempest. His tent and clothes were all now gone. Whisked away in a whirl of wind. Wylma was being sucked out as well while Fred hung on to the rock wall leaning against the tempest. The wind palpitated in strength a few times then vanished. He stood there panting from his excursions and beginning to take stock when the reversal began. The wind began to howl in through the cave opening and down into the dark unknown depths. Fred reversed his grip on his rock and held on for dear life. The gale kept intensifying. He could feel his grip starting to give and the power of the rushing air was magnifying. Fred’s hold finally gave way and he was sucked into the inky depths. *** Fred was sucked into the very earth. There was no chance to catch a handhold to arrest his progress. There was no fighting the sheer power and violence of the moving air as it dragged him deeper. The whirlwind began to lose its potency as Fred managed to grab onto a protuberance. His hand had found a hold but it was not solid rock, it was more like hard rubber coated with slime. He didn't have a great purchase on it, but soon the wind completely vanished. Fred was bracing for another reversal but it did not come. The odour was stronger here and the air was warmer and more humid. Fred stood up and thanked his luck when he found the headlamp hanging around his neck. Now he could see, but what he saw shocked him. The cave was close to round in shape. The walls were covered in lumps and pustules all covered with wet slime of various colours. Some were oozing yet more ugly goo. Fred knew from whence he had come but after some steps, the tunnel had split off in wildly different directions. There was no way to be sure of the path out. This is when he noticed the first oddity. The ground was not solid. It felt underfoot like the canvas of a boxing ring. Fred checked his pockets. Half a packet of cigarettes, a lighter, and his spoon is all he had. There was nothing he could use to mark his path. A curiosity took him and before he thought it through, he scraped the wall with his spoon. The surface gave way like the skin of an overripe peach exposing a gelatinous body laced with white stringy chords and muddy red tissue. The momentary calm was broken when the entire tunnel shuddered, then the air began moving rapidly inward again. Fred threw himself to the ground, searching for purchase in preparation for the next tempest. It did not come though. It was at this point that he noticed the pain. The palms of his hands began to tingle uncomfortably. He wiped them on his pants but the irritation intensified. A similar hot stinging sensation was beginning to spread on one side of his neck. Fred felt the skin and noticed it was covered with the mucus. He began rubbing it off with a mild panic as the pain gradually grew. He began to walk. He took the left tunnel, then the right, then left again, then he stopped. It all looked the same. Fred admitted to himself that he was thoroughly lost down here. After a few minutes of wandering the familiar breeze reappeared. He braced himself again but it was not as turbulent as before. He kept moving. Moving felt like progress, no matter the direction. An ominous theory began to germinate in his mind about the nature of this cave. All his logic told him that he had somehow found himself inside something that,... is alive. With each passing step, he saw things that corroborated his theory till he could no longer think of any other plausible explanation. The paths he took all seemed to go downwards. Even when he backtracked, that sensation of descending remained. It all added to his disquiet. The slime had worked its way onto his flip flops caking his soles and making each step treacherous. He took a tunnel which suddenly dropped precipitously. Fred slipped and slid a long way down the bumpy slick tunnel till it levelled out again. It proved impossible to climb back up that tunnel. His panic was bubbling, but still contained. On he went, deeper and deeper. The tunnel opened into a chamber not much larger than a garage. It was shaped like a bubble with a puddle of gunk collected in the bottom. The surface pulsated in slow motion. It was at this point Fred became certain about his theory, He was inside some terrestrial leviathan. A dark despondence descended upon him. A sense that he may not live to tell this tale. The air was hard to breathe here. Heavy, and wet. Fred suddenly felt very tired and slumped down against the sticky wall and concentrated on taking some deep inhalations, but no matter how he tried, he could not catch a satisfying breath. A funk descended upon him fogging his mind, thickening, until he was no longer sure of where he was. *** Huge powerful limbs, too many to count, grasped, tugged and pushed at the earth, the rock, and the roots all around him. He slid his body through the sticky wet ground. It offered a strange resistance. He was not tunnelling in the earth, but rather moving through it, or it moved through him. A very strange sensation. He stopped. Quiet. A dim low rumbled modulated from somewhere far away. An earthquake, or a movement of a large mass. Grinding over rock and rubble. But there was meaning in the sound. “Ayagom, I feel you”. Fred knew what the sound meant but he did not know how he knew. He drew into himself and shuddered. A strange pattern of rumbling sounds emanate from him.

“Ugora, my friend, I hear you” Fred answered, but without intention. Did I say that? he thought to himself As happens in those rare moments when you become aware you are dreaming, Fred knew he had somehow become psychically absorbed by some other entity. An immensely old being. He could sense a memory spanning back millennia and more. Spans too fantastic to comprehend. Back to the age of the scaled monsters, and warm oceans. Ugora was close by, by Ayagoms reckoning anyway, but this was still hundreds of kilometres away. Fred did not like it. Not one bit at all. He was powerless, but conscious. Looking upward, but not with eyes, he saw a low canopy of tangled roots from countless trees spreading out in all directions. Pulsing and communicating. A hum of intelligent exchange, like a busy Chinese restaurant. Moods and emotions, both brilliant and bleak in constant flux. He was under this cobweb ceiling, in a serene cocoon of dirt. This was not Fred’s world and he knew he had to fight to return to his own, but he lacked the vitality to act. I need to wake up from this , he said to his dreaming self. He tried to move, but he was just a silent passenger enveloped by this colossus. He tried again and felt a tear in his mind. A rend that he now pushed against. He felt a slow disorienting topple ending with a suffocating sensation. *** This brought Fred back. He was lying face down at the bottom of the chamber now, drowning in the slime. He jerked his head back and spat out the goo and gasped for air. He strained at the lack of oxygen, and fought back the drowsiness. He then reached into his pocket, drew out the spoon and with the sharp end, stabbed the floor, over and over again. The membrane gave way and the shank sunk deep into the flesh with satisfaction. The tunnel shuddered, and a gust picked up threatening violence again. The air freshened and Fred finally got a gratifying breath into his lungs. Immediately energised he stumbled up toward the chamber entrance, Fred was out of the now strengthening wind and noticed the chamber expanding. The wind tapered off and the chamber could grow no larger. Fred chose his moment and stepped out of its entrance into the main tunnel and braced himself. The reversal was shockingly powerful. It hit him like a solid thing. Fred became immediately airborne flying through the tubes, bumping and skidding off the sides. The speed was terrific. He slid past a section of the cave wall that was now harder and sharper. Then with a loud popping sound he exited the cave mouth and flew through cool night air, clipping a branch and finally landing heavily in a muddy puddle. He was in the clearing outside the cave now. The sky was showing the first light of dawn but the rain still held sway. In the dying light of his headlamp, Fred spotted his tent tangled in some bushes and Wylma caught in a tree branch. Other debris from his campsite littered the immediate area. On hands and knees, he turned and looked at the cliff face. In the steady rain, it was just a black band, and black backdrop behind the forest cover, preventing the first rays of dawn to penetrate. Fred’s disorientation was dissipating at the same time the burning sting on his face, neck, arms and feet reasserted itself. He wiped at the sticky gelatinous gunk with muddy waters but it resisted his efforts reminding him of slug slime. He looked down at his hands that were covered in it and saw the skin had turned a very dark colour. He pushed an enquiring finger of one hand through the slime to the skin of the back of his other hand. It was rough, and hard. Like… rock! Something was growing on him. He studied his hands again and with concern and noticed his fingers lengthening, in fact his hands were growing. Still on all fours, He looked down and the ground was moving away from him. The trees and bushes were shrinking. Wylma, still stuck in the tree, was now at the scale of a toy. The ground under his knees and hands felt soft and spongy. He picked up a clump and squeezed. The earth melded with him, some of it leaking out from between hard unyielding claws. His fingernails now looked like power shovel buckets. With childish curiosity, he scooped out a hole in the wet earth the size of a refrigerator, and held it aloft effortlessly. He dropped it and then with fingers extended like a spike, he drove his arm into the earth. His arm descended into the ground with a delightful satisfaction. The dawn was brightening, Fred could seem more of the cliff face, and the cave entrance. But this was no cliff, this was Ayagom, the resolute. One of the great Mokit. Stewards of this planet. Slayers of the Gkruts, the destroyers of life. Fred was surprised by the overwhelming feeling he now felt - it was pride. Fred then realised Ayagom was speaking to him: “Ufrot, you are me. I am you, join us.” At this, Fred looked at the earth under him in a new light. A light of comprehension. He then noticed a buzzing hum of background chatter. It was like hearing a poolside conversation while submerged underwater. Fred knew what he must do next. His arm was still buried. He balled his fist, taking a grip of the very earth itself and drove his head and other arm into the ground. His body slid fluently into the ground. He could now hear the conversations clearly and was gratified he was not alone. It was a gentle melodic ebb and flow of the Mokit hivemind. It was hypnotic. The turmoil and tribulations of life were now profoundly changed. Fred glanced one last time upward to see Wylma, alone, caught in the tree branch. He wondered if he would ever see her again. “I see you Ayagom!” Fred said, embracing his new reality.


Rohan : Ok Rina : “ what ok , its not a joke” Rohan ; “ I will do it” Rina : what are you talking about , have you lost your mind , it is matter of your life Jitesh : hey Rina why are you coming between us , if he said he will do it let him do , don’t interfere in men’s matter. Rina : Hey , why are you provoking him to do such task that will risk his life. Jitesh : He is interested in doing it . Jitesh challenged Rohan If he can jump from 100 feet height without any equipment’s. Rohan was a fitness geek so he accepted the challenge , he thought that there is nothing in the world that he can’t do . Rina who was very good friend of Rohan was always aware about evil mind of Jitesh who was their colleague. Jitesh always used to create problems in others life , and enjoys watching others in pain . but Rina was a very tough girl Jitesh tried so many times to get her away from his way but Rina every time came with an idea to solve problems of others. Rohan was one of the most hard working employee of the company. For him work was worship , he just enjoys the duty he was given and due to these qualities he was going to get promotion . His seniors were very happy from his performance and they were looking to give him the position of marketing head. Jitesh was very jealous from him because he was 4 years senior from him and he was at the same position were he joined the company. He was well aware that Rohan always looks for adventurous things in life . so he gave him challenge if he could jump from a 100 feet rock to the sand he will give him a grand party. Rohan said yes to him without thinking about that it could be very dangerous for his life. Rina was there when they were talking about all this , she has never told Rohan but she liked him when they joined the company . they joined the company at same day and got training together . They were from different cities and from different culture but they soon became very good friends . Rina liked Rohan from the day one when they met but she didn’t know that if Rohan also likes him or not and she never shared her feelings with Rohan because she was afraid that she will loose a good friend . Rina was totally against the idea of doing this stunt, but Rohan was very excited to do this and he didn’t thought the consequences of it and Jitesh keeps on provoking him and he also told him that if you will not do this I will spread the word everywhere that how bog coward you are. Rina was helpless now she was thinking what she must do to stop this nonsense to happen. Their senior manager Mr. Swaminathan was very supportive to them , he always liked Rina and Rohan as a hard working employer. Rina thought I should talk about this to him , but she was feeling that it is junior employees personnel matter should she talk this matter to him. But there was no other elders in that city with her to whom she can share her problem and get some valuable suggestions. She knew that Rohan was bit childish she need to act fast before he do some harm to himself in search of some fun. She went to Mr. Swaminathan and told him everything . Mr . Swaminathan “ I knew that Idiot Jitesh is jealous of Rohan , he is the most useless person in our company who joined just because some of his relative is in the board of directors of the company. He always creates problems for others but this time he has gone too far. Wait I am coming I will talk to Rohan not do this “ . Mr. Swaminathan and Rina went to Rohan’s desk after sometime but he was not there then they looked for Jitesh but they didn’t find him too. They went to security guard and asked him if he saw Rohan and Jitesh . Security guard said “ There shift was over so they went home. And yes Today I saw a weird thing that today Jitesh gave lift to Rohan in his car as they went together, Jitesh Sir never gives lift to anyone in his car. “ Rina became very worried about Rohan as were they have gone he just wished that Rohan safe till now. Mr . Swaminathan told her to keep calm he will call his fiend who is in traffic monitoring headquarters , he will help him find both of them with the cctv cameras records. Cell phones of both Jitesh and Rohan was switch of , Rina was sure that Jitesh played some trick and made Rohan phone off. Soon Mr.  Swaminathan gets call from his friend that the no of car which he told went to the direction of Kailari hills . Mr.  Swaminathan rushed to his car with Rina and they also took security guard Nandu with them. Soon they reached the Kailari hills , Rohan was standing near the cliff , it was a sandy his about 100 feet high . Jitesh was shouting from behind jump, jump. Rina got out of the car and rushed towards Rohan to stop him . She shouted “ Rohan please don’t jump wait a minute listen to me. Rohan looked at Rina and also saw Mr .  Swaminathan with her, she ran to Rohan and hugged him and said “ I love you Rohan I liked you from the first time when I saw you , Please don’t jump for the sake of our friendship.” Rohan was surprised to know that she loved him as he always looked for a girl like Rina to be his life partner. Soon Mr . Swaminathan reached close to them and told him get back to the car and go home. Jitesh was very afraid he never thought that Someone will tell this too seniors in the company , he thought that he will manage everything after the incident , but things were different now. On the very next day It was decided in the company that Jitesh will be fired and won’t get any benefits from the company also he wouldn’t get any experience certificates after what he was going to do with an employee of the company. After 1 month of this incident Rohan and Rina got engaged to each other. Sitting at a beach on evening Rohan asked Rina if Jitesh will not have asked me to do that dare would she accepted that she loves me.  Rina just looked into eyes of Rohan and smiled; Rohan got his answer. The sunset was beautiful it looked like sun was going inside deep water of Sea to get fresh and rise again next morning. Rina leaned on the shoulder of Rohan watching this beautiful moment.