Nevermore

Synopsis:

Two hundred years have elapsed since World War Seven and the wraths of Gods upon mankind. Many nations have disappeared on the surface of the earth, and a city rises from the scorched ruins, under the dominion of the Church. Those who have survived, sought sanctuary in the Church. To atone for humanity’s sins, the Church has mandated a series of verdicts to the citizens of Unified Nations of Arkras (What used to be the state of Arkansas) to live under, in order not to anger the Gods, again. In a city where people live in constant fear of the Church and the Gods, violating a single rule has dire consequences, including death.

Every (fifty) thirty-five year, the Harvest of Gods—a national selection day is held, and thirty-six children, ranging from the age of fifteen to eighteen are chosen to serve in the temple and forfeit their individual dream. A Clergyman leads a life of purification, devotion, and seclusion. There are six primary segments, each dedicated to maintaining and fortifying the power of the Church—High Priestess (the most sacred and powerful leader), Cloaked Councils (Secret Keepers), Dwellers, Primates, Overseers (Guards) and Servers. For Never Soaris, being selected as a Mentee is a privilege she cannot afford to take lightly. Placed under strict and constant surveillance, Never and her fellow recruits struggle to live up to the expectations of the Church and of their families. As they embark into this unforgettable journey, their faith will be tested, and their lives will no longer be the same. Meanwhile, Never searches for answers to better understand her vocation, and her internal turmoil spirals out of the control. Never stumbles upon dark secrets that threaten to rip in pieces the very foundation of Unified Nations of Arkras and set off a series of unpredictable events, endangering the lives of everyone in the city….

Part I : The Selection

“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose”

Ecclesiastes 3: 1

CHAPTER ONE:

The Perfect Birthday

“Never, stop fidgeting!” Mom barked, pulling my hair up into a high ponytail. It was too tight that my scalp was flaring, feeling like it would soon peel off. Tears hovered in the back of my eyes. I chewed my lower lip hard, swallowing down the bile rising-up in my throat. I glared at my own resigned reflection in the mirror and stifled a shiver. I examined my body with a critical eye. Since last night, I’d grown two inches up, not outward. My eyes looked bigger for my gentle face and were red from enduring the agony of abrasive grooming. My shoulders appeared to be wider like a boy’s shoulders. My neck seemed to be a tad longer than the rest of my body. My arms were too scrawny. My face was plain and boring, unlike my oldest sister, Amora. She was the prettiest girl in UNA—Unified Nations of Arkras. My flat chest with its mosquitoes’ bites were buried beneath the sleek and soft Scarlett-pink blouse, which was tucked in, unappealing and unflattering. The blouse concealed my narrowed waist, and I felt like a stranger in my own body. The knee-length, brownish skirt was a little tight at the waistline, pinching my skin while covering half of my lanky legs. My toes were too squinched inside the brownish ankle boots I wore since I was thirteen-year-old. Moreover, my feet had outgrown them. I’d intended to tell my parents to buy me a new pair of shoes. But, with everything that had been going on for the last couple of months, the thought had slipped my mind, and here, I was, stuck with these old shrunken boots, pinching my toes.

Lately, scarcity was a plague, spreading from one household to the next. I curled and uncurled my toes repeatedly to ease the sharp, pinching pain. The queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach hadn’t gone away since I woke up this morning. My uneasiness would probably fade as soon as the Selection was over, and everyone, I loved, returned home, happy and relaxed. Then, life would go back to normal, and I could celebrate my birthday with my entire family.

Mom pinched my cheeks a little tighter to give them some colours, interrupting the train of my thoughts. “Mom!” I protested, craning my head backward and up to look at her sad face. “Do I really have to go?” I asked for the tenth times, stretching my lips outward into a pout.

Mom’s brown eyes narrowed to slits, “For the hundred times, Never, stop moving!” Her irritation at me was the only thing keeping her from bursting in tears.

Amora was amused by my angst. “Yes,” she said while she stood in front of the half-cracked mirror near the old, scratched nightstand drawer and tucked her blue shirt in. She looked clean, beautiful, and grown-up like Mom. “The Selection is mandatory, and children between the age of fifteen and eighteen must participate or face death through the Bath of Purification.”

A chill ran over me at the mention of the unpleasant name. I used to think Bath of Purification was just another fancy name for baptism till Dad cautioned us. He said none of us wanted to find out its true meaning. Whenever he brought the subject up, there was a haunted look on his face that caused Mom to burst into a puddle of non-stop tears. I was always filled with dread. Amora and I made a pact, vowing to never witness such atrocity nor to make our parents go through that awful event, again.

“But it’s so unfair—” I complained, frustrated at the thought that I wouldn’t be able to celebrate my birthday with my family. The stupid Selection had ruined my day.

Mom thought I was being obstinate and hard-headed over nothing. “That’s enough!” Mom cut me off, pulling my hair’s queue harshly. A second later, she let go of it and fixed the collar of my blouse. She somehow managed to make me look presentable and docile. A façade was a necessary tool for survival in this occasion, given that when I set foot in the enemy’s building, facing the inevitable possibility of exposure. For all intent and purpose, I considered the Church to be my nemesis since they’d control over every aspect of our lives.

“It is okay, Mom,” Amora interjected, clasping the silver necklace my parents had given her as a birthday present on her fifteenth birthday, around her neck. A worried line etched in her brow. I hated the fact that my big mouth was causing them a lot of grief. I didn’t like seeing the look of concern on my sister’s face. It bothered me— so much.

“Don’t encourage her!” Mom warned in a sharp tone. “Your sister must learn to keep her mouth shut before she gets herself into some serious troubles. The Church doesn’t take too kindly those who question everything.”

“Mom?” Amora let her curly, black hair fall around her shoulders. “It’s understandable. Never is just ticked because the Selection has ruined her fifteenth birthday.” A glint of worry appeared in Mom’s brown eyes.

She managed to give me a small reassuring smile. “I promise we’ll celebrate as soon as you guys come back. Isn’t it right, Amora?” She asked in a falsetto voice.

Amora and Mom exchanged a look of deep concern before Amora nodded in assent. My sister didn’t mind to serve in the temple. She was bred for that line of work. She was more religious than anybody I knew in UNA. In fact, I was neither too keen to spend so much time in the temple nor too eager to perform penitence and offering rituals. If the Gods were so benevolent, they wouldn’t ask us to offer them our scarce produces. Provisions were rationed according to the numbers of people in each sector. In each sector, the folks worked too hard, even to the point of breaking their backs to sow and to harvest, despite the drought season UNA was facing at the moment.

The aftermath of the World War Seven was still apparent, though no one dared to speak about it. The soil was almost depleted of its rich minerals. Some people alleged that the Gods were still cursing us. For my part, I didn’t believe in those wild and superstitious rumours spreading around like the flu. I lived in sector four, known as the Holy City due to its captivating, magnificent and enormous temple with its dove-shaped pillars and an echelon-shaped like altar. It was also the residence of the High priestess— the most powerful, religious leader of UNA and the head of the Church. During national, religious events, citizens from every sector pilgrimage to the Holy City, flooding the narrow streets in hope of seeing the High priestess and to listen to the wills of Gods. Our main contribution to the daily production of goods was through the tedious labouring work in the glorious House of Bread, otherwise known as the Commune Plantation. We plowed the land, sowed the seeds and garnered the crops. The rotary system was perfectly flawless and sustainable. Every day of the week, an established number of people worked in the plantation for at least eight hours, and the next day, a different group picked up where the others left off. Children aging from fifteen and up were also required to work in the fields. In fact, if the Selection hadn’t fall on my birthday, my parents and I would’ve gone to the commissionaire office to obtain a work permit to work anywhere in UNA. If by any chance, I was not selected during the Selection, I’d join the workforce the next day. Sometimes, I imaged what life was like for the children of my age before the terrible and disastrous war.

The Church had destroyed any accounts of previous civilizations and rewrote everything we knew about ancient history. In schools, teachers reinforced the Church’s philosophy, teaching us that our sins had angered the Gods and forced them to punish humanity. In short, the consequences of sin were death, famine, and misery. Each chapter in my history book was either highlight or handwritten with questions I thought in the spur of the moment and would never dare to ask out loud in class for fear of expulsion and death. These tiny, handwritten, and highlighted questions were intended for my private eyes only. The most noticeable chapter was titled, The Battle of Gods, also known as “The sins of Mankind,” which was a dark period in history. It was a time of disparity between the Gods about the destruction of their beloved creatures—humanity. Some of the Gods consented to the total annihilation of mankind while others fought hard to save us. In the end, Rhyina’s love was our salvation— the answer to our endless lamentations. The teachers forced us to memorize that particular text by heart as if it was the very air, we breathed in. It also came up at the end of every exam, regardless of the subjects.

The Church never failed to remind us of the eternal gratitude we were indebted to the Gods. The mundane schedule was repetitious and wearisome. At sunrise, at the first streak of light, every household had to be awakened, kneeled on their knees to atone for their sins and to perform the penance ritual. At sundown, before the last rays of sunlight died out completely, we performed again the same ritual. Amora had always led the ritual ever since she turned nine. Though, I would never admit the truth to a single living soul, I slept through most of the ritual in the morning, stifling my yawns, dozing in and out. Every Tuesday, Dad, and my brother, the eldest of the children, butchered animals, and then, us, the women offered the uncooked meats as well as our produces to the Altar of Gods, twice on the same day. We brought our offerings to the temple before the street started to buzz with life. In the temple, my whole family prayed to the Gods to cleanse our souls and to protect UNA, expect for me. I prayed to the Gods to liberate me from this irksome life and to cut the shackles of bondage placed upon me by the Church. In a way, the customary schedule was our unchanged calendar throughout the year, dating back before my birth and a few years after the war once Unified Nations of Arkras was built and totally established. The bothersome schedule was as followed: Monday and Wednesday, we worshipped and praised the Gods. Each household had to perform the Incense ritual before bedtime to keep Asuria’s shadows away. Saturday was Temple Day, meaning that we spent at least six hours in the temple. We basked in Rhyina’s love for the healing of our mortal heartaches while the Goddess washed our worries and agonies away. Then, Kryos, another Goddess spoke the will of the Gods through her humble servant, the High priestess, to us. Sector four was fortunate to house the religious leader of UNA, although it was an embellished lie. The Church wanted to keep a close eye on a sector with its governmental functions, which served as a control base. The rest of the sectors had to elect two religious’ leaders, whom the High priestess was required to appoint only one spiritual leader for each temple. Sector four’s temple was the biggest temple of all the sectors. Eight sectors made up Unified Nations of Arkras. According to my father, sector four was considered its capital. Though, I believed it was not the truth. The Church never officially announced which sectors was its capital. My guess was that they did not want anyone to capitalize on its weakness in case of a revolution.

I heaved a long sigh. For many years, my family had prayed for the Selection to come around the time Amora was nineteen-year-old, and I would be too dull to be picked. According to our parents, Amora’s beauty and steel faith made her the ideal runner-up for the High priestess position when the current one retired. Her departure, of course, would devastate us. There was nothing any of us could do to change her fate. If my faith was like hers, shatterproof, I would have willed a different kind of destiny for the both of us. For selfish reasons, each night, I would be on my knees praying for the Selection to fall on her nineteenth birthday. Surely, the Gods had a knack of ignoring egocentric prayers. They obviously had other plans for my beloved sister, including the cessation of her posterity. Amora was a sweet, lovely and thoughtful person unlike our eldest brother, Kurt. Life without her would be a total nightmare. I was going to lose a sister, a roommate and a best friend. For a seventeen-year-old girl, she was wise beyond her years. I looked up to her for everything. My world was slowly shifting, and I couldn’t shake myself out of my funk. The frightening thought reared up in my mind before I could stop it. I shoved it to the back compartment of my mind, padlocking it, afraid of losing my bravery and self-composure.

I held back my tears, glimpsing the sketchy preview of my new life, and I did not like what I was seeing for a second. Aside from the required labours; I would be doing Amora’s chores on top of mine. She was an excellent organizer and a great cook while I had a tendency to burn things and make a mess of everything. It seemed that I always brought disaster to the people around me. It was what Cupida had once said. Our room was cleaned and tidy because Amora could not stand sleeping in an untidy room. She took pride in helping the family out. I shied away from tedious works that worn me down, except for helping Dad in our small, privately-owned barn. Kurt, as annoying and mean-spirited of a person he was to me, he would be extremely tired after his shift at Molly’s repair shop and his hours at the plantation to help around the house. I would’ve to get a job at the hospital to replace Amora’s income and be confronted eternally with nightmares of sick and dying people. Mom would not stop bugging me about helping her in the kitchen. Sometimes, she could be so bossy and insensitive. On the other hand, Dad was layback, nice and liked to tell a lot of good and funny stories that made workflow so easily. He never barked orders at me like Mom. Moreover, the meal-together at sunset as a family would be disrupted forever. We would not be able to discuss about things in hushed tones in case the church had bugged our house and was eavesdropping to our conversations. My fear was that I would not be able to spend time with Cupida and helped her with her light chores. She was the oldest woman in our sector, whose son had become a clergyman and had not spoken to his mother over six decades.

I cringed at the painful thought that my carefree life was about to change drastically. “Don’t make that face!” Amora closed the distance between us and pulled me into an ironclad hug. “Everything’ll be fine,” her voice was confident and tremulous at the same time. I snuggled my face against her chest, sniffling and fighting back tears.

“Will you still be my sister, if you’re chosen?” I asked. Fear slid into me. I wanted her to hold me like this, forever. I was angry at the Gods for taking her away from us.

Amora pulled back and held me at arm-length. “Of course,” a wry smile twitched on her lips. “I’ll always be your sister, and nothing in this world can ever change that.” There was a brief pause between us. I drew a breath and held it, before exhaling it. “I love you. You know that?” She insisted, her tone hoarse.

I smiled faintly up at her, “I love you, too.”

Tears filled her deep amber eyes, “If I’m selected, things become a little bit complicated.” At hearing the note of sadness in her voice, and the unpleasant words coming out of her mouth, my hope evaporated like a vapor in the wind. My heartbeats quickened. “Although, I’d always be a Soaris girl, I’ll become daughter of the Gods. My duty and loyalty will lie with the Church. I will act for the welfare of the Church and for every citizen of our beautiful nation. In other words, I’m kind of divorcing my family and marrying the Church.” I shook my head in denial, not wanting to admit that this truth was much more unsettling than any cruel punishment the Church had afflicted to my family over the years.

Amora’s eyes softened at the crushed expression on my face. A soft sob ripped out of Mom, and she quickly cupped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. She drew back, glared at us for a total of two full seconds, and then darted out of the room, tears running down on her brokenhearted face. It broke me to see her cry. Her heart was breaking in pieces like a glass with each passing second while mine was cracking in fragments. Amora was the rose that sprinkled grime of happiness into my parents’ lives while I was an eyesore— the mournful thought that made my mother cringe in her sleep, regretting why she had birthed me. Her footsteps scuffed along the floor as she ran farther and farther away from her daughters into the tired arms of her husband for comfort. Her heart was inconsolable.

The Selection was every parent worst nightmare. Dad had often joked how he’d walk up to Amora and talked to her, even if the Church had authorized her to disassociate herself with her family for good. A drop of tear leaked out of my eye. “But things won’t be the same without you,” I crowed. I couldn’t stand the thought of Amora treating me like everyone else’s when she became a clergywoman. I was appalled at the treatment of Jafred, a clergyman of the church, serving as a Server, towards his mother, Cupida. Although, he was permitted to care for everyone, he was too indifferent towards his own mom, and a person would think he’d the worst upbringing, ever.

Amora squeezed my cheeks before she pulled away and walked over to her battered bedside table. She opened the first drawer and the wooden drawer-nob fell off and thudded on the chipped, hardwood floor. Amora retrieved a small, lime-green, satin jewelry box that was ragged. It was the size of small, human-hand. It looked too tattered to contain anything of great value. She came back with a slicked smile on her lips. “I have a present for you,” she announced. The excitement in her voice was too palpable. She truly knew how to make me feel better in spite of my sour mood. She always spoiled me more than Mom. The truth was that Amora was like a mother figure to me.

My heart hammered with joy. She perked up at the happy glow in my eyes. “What’s it?” I spun around and asked with an eagerness that made her laugh heartily.

“Don’t be too noisy!” She taunted with an amusing laugh. It was a bad habit of hers to make me wait until the excitement began to suffocate me. “Turn around and close your eyes,” she instructed. I twirled around so fast that my queue bounced, making a whipping sound. She stepped up behind me, lifted up the queue and asked me to hold it up. I obeyed. Her hands slid around my neck and clasped a cool object. It tickled my skin, and I let out a soft giggle.

My hand reached up to my neck and touched what I imagined to be a rusty, sterling chain. “What’s it?” I probed, curiosity getting the best of me. I slightly opened my eyes to peek, and Amora smacked gently the back of my head in warning. “Ouch!” I whined. “That hurts.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to be a little bit more patient than usual,” she hissed.

I shut my eyes tight and stifled a laugh, “Patience and I aren’t good friends.”

“I guess patience is a virtue not given to everyone,” she murmured in my ear. Her warm breath prickled my skin, “In that case, open your eyes!”

In slow motion, my eyes fluttered open, and I gasped lightly in surprise. “Wow!” I exclaimed, breathless. “It’s so beautiful.” This was the best parting gift I could ever receive in my life, even though I wouldn’t get the chance to celebrate my birthday with my whole family. She nestled her chin against my shoulder blade as silence fell between us. It grew and dragged on for what seemed like eternity. I stared at the necklace in the mirror in disbelief, unable to articulate coherent words of thanks. This necklace must’ve cost her a fortune. This meant that she’d been saving every coin of her hard-earned money just to buy me this old, silvery-gold necklace with an odd amethyst gem medallion, which looked like it’d been forcefully inserted into the hole. This brought tears in my eyes. I ran my fingers over the cool, scraped chain, feeling the roughness of its worn, threaded like surface. “Thank you,” I whispered, overly grateful, knowing this could be the last gift she would ever give me. “It’s really beautiful.”

“It’s nothing,” she grinned at me through the mirror. “Old Sims was selling it for fifteen Diafras, and I thought you may like it.” A flicker of happiness twinkled in her eyes.

“I love it!” I swirled around and surprised her with a warm hug. “You’re the best.”

At first, she seemed taken aback by my sudden show of affection. I rarely displayed my emotions. She zealously hugged me back for a minute. “I’m glad you like it,” Amora smiled at me with a flash of nostalgia.

I drew back, and then hugged her back, again. This time, she hesitated to hug me back. Somehow, she was trying to distance herself physically and emotionally in case the unimaginable happened. My sister was a disciplined person in whatever she undertook. “You’re an angel, and the Gods are so cruel to deprive me of you.” I muttered, my lips grazing over her earlobe.

“Don’t ever say that!” Amora snapped, releasing me immediately. She gave me a scolding look, huffing in fury. Her deep amber eyes were ablaze, burning with an intensity that gave me a fright. I backed away in fear. Amore’s eyes cut away from my frightened gaze for a millisecond, and then shifted back to me. She broke down in tears, sinking down onto the floor, bringing her legs altogether and wrapping her arms around them. I gaped down at her, startled. My mind could not conceive what I was seeing. She rocked her body back and forth. “They blessed me with a wonderful family,” she murmured between her sobs. I continued to glare at her with a gaping mouth. I’d never seen Amora in such hysterical state. Panic rose in me. “And I’m so grateful for—”

I wanted to tell her that the Gods were the ones tearing us apart. I wanted to vent my anger. Sadly, there was no room to do so. Instead, I sat down next to her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders, comforting her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” I leaned over and rubbed the side of my face against hers, “They also blessed us when Rhyina decided to send you down to us and filled our hearts with love.”

She sniffled, wiping her tears with her bare, cream-shaved arm. A broken smile crept on her lips. “We can’t always question the Gods’ motives,” she murmured as if she was trying to convince herself. There was a slant change in her expression that scared the living daylight out of me. “It hurts so much, Never.” She blubbered. “I can’t bear it.”

“H-hush,” I tightened my grip around her shoulders and brought our heads closer, facing one another. “Rhyina will wash away all the heartaches. So, don’t sweat it!”

She laughed gruffly, “You’re taking it so well.” A small frown creased on my forehead. She eyed me with raised eyebrows. I squirmed under her suspicious glare. I wanted to tell her that I could not lose it now or I wouldn’t be able to make it to the Selection. I would not also be able to stop crying. If I stopped myself short from thinking about the pain of this separation, then I could go through the motion of today’s special event without breaking apart. “I’m sorry. It was so childish of me to insinuate—”

“I—” I began to say and broke off at the sound of a cough coming from behind us. The flow of our conversation was interrupted by the sudden change in the atmosphere with the presence of a third person in the room.

“Ahem?” We pulled apart and looked back and up. Kurt, our brother stood in the doorway, staring straight down at us with a quizzical frown. A shadow of sadness passed over his face for a second. I looked away, alarmed and burdened with the knowledge that perhaps, I wouldn’t see them anymore, after today. There was a slight possibility I would be the one coming back home, given my stellar record of voicing my skeptical beliefs and breaking the rules whenever the opportunity presented itself. When I looked back up at him, his expression had softened. A small, gentle grin spread across his lips.

Kurt’s lifelong dream was to become a High priest. There had not been any since the first five years after the war. At times, my brother could be pretentious and mean. But today, his mood seemed different. There was a shadow of doubt behind his soft smile. He was well groomed and trimmed and looked like Dad, except for the dark circles under his eyes. Kurt was skinnier and taller than Dad, wearing a long sleeve, blue shirt over a slightly loose Khaki trouser with Dad’s holiday shoes. For the first time, he looked handsome and respectable when he was not wearing his usual, faded shirt and frayed pants. There was so much resemblance between him and Amora. His high cheekbones and sharp nose were the most memorable attributes of his facial features. He was one of those boys who lacked fatty tissues— the sort of people who did not gain weight so easily, regardless of the unhealthy foods he could’ve been eating if UNA was a prosperous nation. His wavy, brownish hair was well combed and fell over his left eye. The brown hair was the only thing Kurt and I had in common.

Amusement flickered in his tawny eyes when he caught the surprised gleam in my eyes. Amora laughed and rose to her feet. “You look good for a change, farmer boy,” I mocked, wiping off tears and getting up to my feet as well. I winced in pain and curled my toes to relieve the pinching ache. I then stretched my legs to shake off the numbness. My heart felt heavier than the rest of my body.

His half-smile turned into a full-on grin. “Not so bad yourself, plain face,” he teased. I frowned at him. “Don’t I deserve a hug?” He added, letting out a curt chuckle.

I arched a quizzical brow. “Do you?” I demanded, shooting him a sharp look.

Amora jumped in, “Be nice!” She warned, and then walked up to Kurt. She clapped his shoulder with her gentle hand, “You look like Dad, but younger.”

“Ugh!” Kurt stifled a shiver and made an ugly face. Amora snorted out a force chuckle, and our brother shook his head to dismiss the mental picture Amora had just planted in his head. “At least I don’t have a plain face like Never.”

“Hey!” I cautioned, my sharp gaze becoming a harsh glare. “My face is not plain. It’s not as pretty as Amora’s, but it belongs to me and no one else. I’m not ugly, either.” I barked.

“Of course, you’re not ugly. You’re simply plain and dull,” a slicked smile twitched up the corner of his mouth. I clenched my hands into fists and bounced back and forth on my toes, ready to assault him. “Calm down, Never,” his hands rose in mock gesture of a truce. “At least, you’re the only guaranty that Mom and Dad will still have a child coming back to help them around the house with the chores.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Amora shot Kurt a warning look. “None of us may be selected.”

“I’m not coming back if farmer boy gets to be around,” I leered.

Amora shook her head, exasperated over our usual bickering. “This isn’t the time to be acting up like fools.” She scolded us, giving me a sharp look when I opened my mouth to protest. “This may be the last time we’re together under the same proof, as Soaris children. Please, don’t spoil the moment with your usual, useless and annoying quarrels.”

“Right,” Kurt muttered. His eyes lit-up as a thought crossed his mind. I cringed. “Never,” He winked at me with a small smirk. “If you don’t come back, it’ll be good for everyone. Less mouths to feed since foods are so scarce nowadays.”

“I hate you,” I growled and pushed past him, walking toward the door, fuming in rage. Kurt could sometimes be a blockhead. Given the delicateness of the situation, I did not want to look back at this moment and remembered ‘I hate you’ as the last word I ever said to my brother. He leaped backward and beat me to the door. At the doorway, Kurt seized my arm and pulled me into a forced hug. I wiggled, trying to break out of his grasp. But his grip was firm as a steel. He refused to release me until I hugged him back. So, I hugged him halfhearted. He squeezed me tight, and I almost turned blue from the lack of oxygen. My burrowed face rubbed against his skinny, hard chest. I swallowed back the lump choking my throat. I was shocked at my own admission that I was going to miss his cruel teasing. At the end of the day, Kurt was my precious family member, and I would give anything if possible, to keep us, together.

He loosened his grip on me and chuckled. When I glared up at him, his early humour was gone, replaced by a heavy sadness. My brother genuinely believed that this was the last time we were seeing each other. At least, I was pro at hiding my feelings. “I guess this is goodbye, plain face,” Kurt sighed morbidly.

“I guess so, farmer boy.” Amora and I chimed in unison.

Kurt gave us a roll of the eyes. Amore heaved a forlorn sigh and looked him in the eye, “Please, take good care of her.” She was always worried about me and my mouth.

“Always,” Kurt answered without hesitation. His hand reached over and tousled my hair. I hissed at him. “Life will be boring without plain face around to annoy me.”

Mine wouldn’t, I thought to myself. Amora and Kurt cleared their throats at the same time and chided in unison, “Well, it’s time to say our goodbyes to Mom and Dad!”

I stifled a chill at the freakish occurrence of my siblings’ thoughts being in complete synchronization. Too frigging weird!