Max:

“Brother!” Erik’s laugh was boisterous—a refreshing, admittedly lively, sound.

I laughed in return, leaning down to give him a hug.

“It’s been ten years, Max. What brings you back?” Erik looked into my eyes, his face hallow and aged, but also concerned.

“Ten years went by fast.” I remarked.

He laughed. “Fast for you, perhaps.” He lifted one brow, now dappled with grey. “So tell me, why come back now?” He had a knowing look on his face.

It was hard to see him like this, and soon he would be gone. Soon, I would have to take him. “Erik, I had to come back.” I avoided his gaze, knowing he saw right through my attempts to deny my reasons.

Erik was my younger brother whom had survived the slaughter of my family. He survived because I’d given my life to do so. It was that day that changed my fate forever. It was the day I became what I am.

Erik laughed. “I always knew you would come back. You always do. No matter how hard you try, you cannot forget

that little girl, can you?”

I sighed, thinking of her. “It’s not that, Erik.” I lied, hiding a smile. “And she’s not a little girl anymore,” I added.

He pointed at me, his hands wrinkled with age. “You cannot fool and old man, Max.” He grunted as he pushed his wheelchair away from the large mahogany desk in the study. “You failed to hide that smile, though you think you did.”

I let the smirk show. “I’m an old man too, Erik.”

“Ha!” he hooted, following with a cough. “But look at you! You’re still seventeen and as handsome as ever. I always hated you for that.”

“No matter how I look, Erik, I will always be your older brother.” I plucked the picture of my sister-in-law from his desk and looked at it. “Besides, it was I that was jealous of you. You lived a normal life. Brother, you got to love, live, and soon…” My voice trailed, jealous of his eventual death.

Erik on the other hand, hated the idea of death. He changed the subject. “You know I hate it when you call me brother. It makes me feel old-fashioned.” He rolled his eyes.

When I died, Erik had a hard time adjusting to the fact that he was now ageing, and I was not. The day he surpassed me was his worst, but it was one of my worst as well. I knew that one day he would be gone, and I would be alone, at least emotionally. He rolled over to me and took the picture from my hand.

“Meredith, my love,” he whispered.

I watched him stare at her image, his eyes filled with a feeling I finally understood. “She was wonderful, Erik. Like a sister and a mother to me.” Her laughter resonated in my head, warming my silent heart.

Erik laughed. “First a sister, and then a mother as she grew old, right?”

I smirked. “Something like that.”

I felt the presence of our real mother enter the room then, like a breath of life. I smiled. I could always feel her, but I was never allowed to see or hear her. It was the cruel torture I was put through as an angel, stuck somewhere between the two worlds, shut out from the thrill of feeling their reach.

Erik’s face sank. “Have you seen him at all?”

I frowned, losing the feeling of my mother as she slipped away at the mention of him. “No. Not for a very long time.” Erik smiled. “Do you ever think he’ll come back?”

I placed the picture of Meredith on the desk. “I want to assume that he won’t, but I don’t think we’re that lucky. We’re never that lucky.” He was my twin after all, and in our state, we were bound together in thought and soul, both stuck in the in-between.

Erik said nothing as he rolled over to a window that looked out from the second story and onto the gardens below. “Well, I’m glad your back. I just don’t…” his voice cracked.
I shut my eyes, feeling his pain and hearing his thoughts. He was afraid of Greg—afraid that he would come for him in the end. “Erik, you know I would never let that happen. You belong with me. I will not let him take your soul. Not there.” Greg’s world was different than mine—darker.

Erik was again silent, but I could hear the whispers in his mind. “Is that why you came back? To take me?”

I exhaled slowly. “No, Erik. It’s not your time.” I lied, knowing it was within the coming months. No man should know when that time would come. I wanted him to enjoy what life he had left.

Erik turned then, a renewed sense of life in his eyes. “I do wish to be with Meredith again, but not yet.” He smiled.

“What will you do with your time here? For how long can I expect you’ll stay this time?”

His questions were questions I was barely able to ask myself. I did not know how long it would take before I could no longer stand being here, but I needed to try—for her. “I’ll go back to school, I suppose. See how that pans out.”

Erik let one boisterous laugh leave his lips. “School? My dear Brother, just the mention of that word brings chills to my heart. Didn’t get enough before, did you?”

I laughed. “I realize that your academic experience was anything but enjoyable with all the deaths you endured. You were uprooted and scared—I understand. But trust me, dear Brother, I will be fine. I still have that senior year to finish, even if it is eighty years late.”

He lifted one brow. “I just hope you’re right. Senior year can be horrid.” His eyes were wide. “Especially these days. Things aren’t like they were eighty years ago.”

I laughed. “What do you know of high school these days?” Erik shrugged. “Enough. Trust me.”

I looked at my watch. “Speaking of… I’m going to be late. Erik laughed with a cheery smile. “So soon! My, you don’t wallow in the mud do you? I haven’t seen you in decades, and here you are, back as though nothing had changed.”

I shrugged. “I have a long life ahead of me, Brother, and I don’t want to waste it.”

Sarah:

“Jane. Emily!” I slammed the cup of orange juice down on the counter. “Jane! Emily! Hurry up!”

I looked at my watch. It was already 7:53 and I was late for my shift at the hotel. Being a single mother had never been easy, especially with two teenage girls.

I walked across the kitchen and grabbed a dry piece of toast from the toaster and shoved it in my mouth. I never regretted having the girls, but I did regret having them at such a young age. If I’d waited, my husband’s accident would have happened before they were as much as a glimmer in our eye, leaving me with more options.

But that wasn’t something to think of—not anymore. My girls were my whole world now, and I loved them no matter what the burden.
Jane was seventeen, but that’s what made it hard on me. I’d been seventeen when I had her. I saw myself in her eyes. I understood that I was far too young to handle a child. I wished I’d known better.

“Jane! Get your sister. Let’s get going!” I yelled, crumbs flying from my mouth and onto the tile floor.

Since it was their first day, it was important for me to drive them to school. I know it was embarrassing for them, but I needed my few moments to be a mother, and this was one of them.

Their father, John, had loved them regardless of the age in which we’d had them. It was a strange time when we were young, and the world was changing fast. After all, it was the seventies.

Jane was a surprise, and I remembered the look on John’s face. He was so frightened to have her, but as she grew, she and John forged a bond so strong, it was seemingly inseparable. Emily, on the other hand—John had distanced himself from her, and I never understood why.

There was always guilt in his eyes over the fact, as though the distance was painful to him.
I was jolted out of my daydreaming as the pounding of footsteps descended the stairs. My pain was replaced by relief. It was their first day, and I was excited to finally have them back at school. At least now I’d know where they were all day—especially Emily.

Jane:

I hated first days. I hated everything. I was tired of the same struggle to make friends, fit in and make grades. I didn’t understand why I felt so lost, or why I felt as though I didn’t belong here anymore. And when I say belong, I mean the fact that I couldn’t shake the dreams of death I had every night, and the foreseen deaths of everyone around me. The nightmares followed me, and I knew it was because I should have died with my father.

“Jane, make sure your sister gets to all her classes, will you? I don’t have time to worry about her today,” my mother nagged, her hair falling from her lose ponytail. I knew how busy she was, and how hard she tried for us, but we were her choice.

I looked at my sister as she gave me a glare that reminded me to leave her alone. Today was her first day in high school. She didn’t need her bigger sister hanging over her like the overprotective freak that I was.

“Okay, everyone! Into the car!” My mother ushered us both out the door, handing us each a five dollar bill for lunch.

It was barely enough to buy a bagel and milk—not that Emily would buy anything anyway. Emily was your typical dark troubled teen, and a handful at that. Since she was thirteen, I’d relentlessly hunted after her, dragging her from one high school party after the next.

I couldn’t help but worry. I’d seen the nightmares with her in them. The image of her lying dead like that haunted me—her eyes blank, her body cold. I watched her walk in front of me with guilt in my heart. The scary thing was that now, she was in high school, making the task to protect her more of a challenge. The parties would be more accessible, the drugs like candy sold at a corner store.

“Want to give me your five?” She had halted, now leaning close to me as we lagged behind Mother. Her dark eyeliner smudged into her eyes, leaving them inked with grey.

I gave her a disgusted glare, knowing all she wanted to do with it was buy prescription drugs. I rolled my eyes away from her.
Emily was gorgeous—at least she was under all the makeup. She was tall and thin with plaits of thick auburn hair. She naturally walked like a model, attracting all sorts of attention, but mostly the negative kind.

“No. You can’t,” I hissed.

Emily glared, grabbing the handle of the car door and snapping it open.

I walked around to the other side, taking a deep breath before opening my own door and ruefully climbing in. I’d given up my life to play mother to Emily. My own mother was too overwhelmed with work to notice what really went on. I knew my mother meant well, but it was a burden that had destroyed my life.

Emily:

I slammed the car door for dramatic effect, showing Jane that I was pissed at her for refusing to lend me her five. She had plenty of money stashed up somewhere, I knew it. She was a goody two shoes, and it was starting to cramp my style. I pouted and looked out the window, hooking my palm under my chin. I saw the cute neighbor boy next door climb into his car, a mischievous thought entering my head. I was tired of it.

She elbowed me, and I let out a low scream, glaring at her. “Hi, Wes.” She waved, leaning over my lap, hoping to cover up the embarrassment of what I’d just done.

Mother glanced at me in the rear view mirror with a look of concern on her face. She was sizing me up, wondering what troubled-teen-symptom I was displaying today. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms against my chest.

Jane was still lying across my lap, pressing the button on the window to bring it back up. I hated that she treated me like a child. I shut my eyes, trying to forget the headache that had now set in from the exasperated thoughts in Jane’s head.

Mother spoke then, but not to me—she knew better than to do that. What she didn’t know was that it didn’t matter if she spoke to me or not, I still knew what she was thinking. “Jane, why didn’t you ever date Wes? He’s a nice boy.”

I laughed to myself, finding the hilarity in the fact that Jane would date anyone at all—her one exception being the fact that she had lost her virginity to Wes this summer, which I knew despite the fact she’d told no one.

I also knew that she did it out of pity, and now regretted it. That was her one and only romantic encounter. She was a history geek, and though she had good looks, she never used them for anything. Ever since father died she had been this way—large grandmother sweaters and baggy jeans, frazzled hair and a whole mess of split ends. Her skin was pale because she refused to go outside unless to snowboard, which she’s unsure if she’ll get the chance to do this year with me cramping her style. She thinks I’m too young to know what life is all about, but she doesn’t know what I can hear. Besides, I’m only a year behind her in age, just not school. There were two things I knew for certain:

Something about me is different, and freshman year was going to suck.

Jane:

I hated when Mother said that to me, as if I hadn’t already told her why I hadn’t dated Wes. I liked Wes, sure, as a friend. We had been friends since we were babies. He was practically a brother to me. Wes was the only person that seemed to understand all I’d gone through, and the responsibilities of my burdens. Sure, we had tried to be together, but it was awkward. I’d lost my virginity to him after all, but it didn’t feel right for me. There was no emotion, no great ta da. Besides, I didn’t have the time for a boyfriend.

“She’s afraid that if she dates him, he’ll end up dead like father,” Emily teased in a childish voice.

I felt the car rattle as she said it, my mother tapping the breaks in her sadness. Emily often referenced my father’s death that way, as though it wasn’t her father at all. She was too young to remember, but not me. I remembered everything. He had been my best friend—my only friend.

“Emily, please.” My mother’s voice cracked as she said it, suggesting the comment had hurt.

Emily let an annoyed breath escape her dark crimson lips. “Whatever.”

I tried to press back the images of my father as they welled up inside me like a nightmare. I wasn’t sure exactly what had happened that night, but I knew what I saw—I saw the fire and the car. I even saw him take his last breath.

Blood. Emptiness. Horror.

All I knew was that something had saved me. Some force of luck had decided I was to live, and my father was to die. Emily wasn’t there. She didn’t know. She barely even knows the outline of his face, but I remember. I see every wrinkle, every scratch as the blood pooled onto the pavement of the road, following the outline of his beard and staining the few grey hairs he had. I saw his eyes fade as the life left them, and I heard his last words, still echoing…

“I love you, Jane.”

That was ten years ago, but it still felt like yesterday. I was so young, but in that instant, all the youth was stolen from me and our lives changed forever. In that instant, I’d become the mother, and Mother had become lost. I was too young to grow up, too young to worry, and now, it was all I knew—seventeen going on thirty-four, my mother thirty-four going on dead.

That’s how I saw it.

My mother was an empty shell, left broken on the beach.

Wes:

I waved as the car passed, rolling my eyes. Emily was a mess. Too young to realize exactly what she was doing. Jane though, she was something else. When she waved, it was as though the whole world stopped. I sighed. To her, though, I was just a friend.

I got in my car, rubbing my hand as it began to hurt. I looked down, my gaze tracing the bones as they molded the skin on my knuckles. They ached as though I’d been up all night playing video games. I flipped it over and looked at my palm, and then put it on the shifter of my 86 Camaro. I watched as my fingers shook. Shutting my eyes, I tried to stifle the pain.

For the last week the pain had been acting up. I didn’t know what it was from, but I had a hunch. I needed to lay off the hobbies. I suppose painting model cars had its dangers. I sighed. It wasn’t just that, though, I hadn’t felt at all spectacular, and the changes in my height and weight… that alone put me on edge. I no longer wanted to go outside. I was afraid someone would notice.

I thought I was done growing two years ago, but this spurt had been the biggest yet. My stomach grumbled with nerves and a strawberry Pop Tart.

My parents gave me up for adoption when I was just a baby. I was forced to grow up fast, and when I was finally taken in, it still left me with a gaping hole in my heart. It was times like now that I wish I knew them. The pain inside me was something I hoped they could explain, but I’d never found them—no matter how hard I tried. I started the car as my other hand shook on the keys. I usually took Jane to school, but this year with her sister being there, I figured her mother wanted make sure Emily at least made it to the front door. From there, it was out of her hands.

I would try one more time to get Jane’s attention this

year—try at last to be the guy she dreams of. She was my only hope for happiness here.

I loved her.

With one last deep breath, I looked over my shoulder and backed out of the driveway. This was it, senior year. Things were bound to get better.

Jane:

We pulled up to the school in silence as Emily gave me once last glare. She snatched her black backpack off the seat beside me, rolling her eyes. She didn’t even bother to say goodbye to Mother as she slammed the car door behind her, storming down the walkway and into school.

I sighed. “Mother, I’m sorry. I’ll try to watch her.” I felt as though it were my fault she had misbehaved. I saw Wes walk by the car, glancing toward it but continuing on, understanding that my mother and I were talking about serious matters. My eyes followed him, inspecting his ever changing physique and spiked golden hair. I shuddered with guilt, training my eyes straight ahead.

My mother looked at me through the rear view with a gaunt expression. “Jane, it’s not your fault. I just don’t know what to do with her. I wish I knew what she was up

to.” She shifted the car into park. “She’s not doing anything… illegal, right?”

“I…” I wanted to tell her, but the dark circles under her eyes reminded me that she had enough to deal with.

She gave me a pained smile. “Just keep your eyes open, Jane. That’s all I ask.”

Her words made me feel responsible. I knew I needed to tell her what was really going on, but what could she do? She didn’t need to know, and that was my decision. I unbuckled, grabbing my bag and sliding from the car..
I’ll watch out for her, mom. I promise.” I smiled and shut the door, lowering my head as I walked around the car and toward the steps

I heard her drive off behind me, my pace fast as I saw that all the students were already inside. When I reached the doors the bell rang. I exhaled hard—already late, and it was only the first day. I grabbed the handles of the doors and swung them open, walking briskly inside as my feet clapped against the linoleum floor, echoing off the lockers on either side. There was another echo in the hall as well, and with my head still down, I peeked up with my eyes. I allowed my hair to hide me in case it was a rule-hungry teacher, bent on disciplining stray students on their first day.

My eyes met the back of a boy that was up ahead, walking with poise and leisure. I quickly looked back down at my feet, turning as I reached my homeroom and grabbed the handle of the door. The echoes in the hall ceased at the same time my own footsteps did.

Startled, I looked up, my eyes finding the boy as he stood by a locker at the end of the hall. He didn’t seem to notice me as he worked at the lock. He was new, that wasn’t hard to tell. We didn’t get many new kids in Glenwood Springs, at least none that looked like him.

He had a black t-shirt on, despite the fact that it was an unseasonably cool day. His jeans were dark and unmarked, a far cry from the designer jeans I was used to seeing here. I looked at his feet, noticing he wore a pair of brown leather shoes—a faux pas considering the black t-shirt.

I examined the profile of his face, noting the strong jaw line, a small freckle positioned near his ear. His lashes were long and natural, a dark brown that could almost be considered black. His hair matched. It was medium length and tossed expertly away from his face. His lips were pressed together in a concentrated line, revealing a dimple on his cheek.

Then, allowing me a glimpse at the inside of his forearms. I squinted. Upon closer inspection, I saw he had a tattoos inked from his elbow to his wrist, also something you didn’t see much around here—especially when most of us weren’t even eighteen yet.

There was something besides his looks that had seized me, though. It wasn’t as though he was dreamy as in High School Musical dreamy, but rather typical despite the array of attractive features. My brows were sewn together as I stood frozen for a moment, my hand on the handle of the door. He was too far away from me to see his future death, but there was something.

A familiar image flashed across my thoughts, like a bit of déjà vu. I tried to hold onto the image as my breath dragged in my throat. He lifted his arms, exhibiting a string of muscles linking from his shoulders to his wrists. He placed a stack of books inside his locker and twisted his stance to position them, allowing me a glimpse at the inside of his forearms. I squinted. Upon closer inspection, I saw he had a tattoos inked from his elbow to his wrist, also something you didn’t see much around here—especially when most of us weren’t even eighteen yet.

There was something besides his looks that had seized me, though. It wasn’t as though he was dreamy as in High School Musical dreamy, but rather typical despite the array of attractive features. My brows were sewn together as I stood frozen for a moment, my hand on the handle of the door. He was too far away from me to see his future death, but there was something. A familiar image flashed across my thoughts, like a bit of déjà vu. I tried to hold onto the image as my breath dragged in my throat. The image slowly washed away before I could see what it was, and I was left struggling to make sense of it. The boy slammed the locker door and I snapped out of it. He turned away from me and walked down the hall, unconcerned by the fact I was gawking at him like a stalker. I shook my head and opened the door to homeroom, walking in as everyone stared. Their eyes outlined the judgment I was sure was in their heads. My breathing stopped.

“You’re late, Ms. Taylor.” Mrs. West glared at me over her bifocals. She motioned me to sit. I scanned the room, finding Wes as I exhaled with relief. I quickly made my way toward him, sitting down at the desk he had saved for me.

"You made it,” he whispered. “And just in time for the Prom committee to preach.“

He rolled his eyes. “Why do they insist on making us get involved? Besides, it’s like, months away.”

I nodded, taking out a piece of paper and eyeing the list of less-than-essential prom notes on the board. I blew at a strand of hair that had obstructed my vision. I was already anxious for lunch. www.abraebner.blogspot.com

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