Sunlight

There was a heavy thumping outside. To the normal ear it was barely anything at all, but to the woman inside the old wooden and marble enclave it was extremely noticeable. The fragile leaves on the dying pear tree outside were swaying more than usual, it's branches scraping along the siding of the house. However, her ears had been trained to look out for ‘visitors’ after five years of living in this hell hole. What was once home had become her own personal hell and now refuge.

Unlike her siblings, she didn’t flee the country or city, no, Amanda knew better than that. The thudding abruptly stops and the blonde haired girl grabs for the vintage yellow box of shot-gun pellets, and with unsteady hands begin to refill the cage of her grandfather’s gun.

Five years. That was all it took for the world to go to hell and exactly 365 days ago the last of her siblings were plucked right off the face of the earth. Amanda had been counting down waiting for the day her family’s assailant would come for her next.

During her time in confinement, she picked out her sister Cara’s faded pink pastel barbie radio out of the rubble in the basement and carried it to her room (what’s left of it) and used it to keep up with the news and the happenings with her siblings. They were wanted by the confederacy for just purely existing and after a year she knew just who to blame.

Amanda loads up another bullet. Today was the day she would invite death into her home. Suddenly, there was a loud blaring from the rickety old radio in the corner of the room, it’s volume sending shock waves through her body. Amanda hadn’t heard a sound so loud in so long that it sent her senses into overdrive, the words to ‘Verbatim’ scratching its way down her back and sides. With feverish eyes and hands Amanda continues to load, shivering from the cold sweat dripping from her temples.

She had to get what she could get from the sun which wasn’t much considering that the Earth was dying and so was the sun’s capacity to send light. The sun was stuck in the same picture-esque state creating a view reminiscent of the burnt and wispy orange of a midwest sunset. The blonde gives out a weak laugh from her chapped lips.

Amanda once basked in the sun’s light, danced and played with her siblings and friends as the light shined down on her crown, giving her the best ideas and the brightest smiles. The jewelry she wore showed even brighter once she would step out in the sun.

Her grandfather always said she was born from the sun, her mother even gave birth to her on one of the hottest days in a decade in Louisiana. Funny, that she would die a hermit, no longer convinced of the sun’s love as its power waned and coincidingly her life force and all the things she was so confident about. She was the eldest child after all.

The music finally stops, the lasting breaths of the melody floating in the air before the receiver takes up its former state. Cocking the gun in her hand Amanda isn’t surprised as her pink door was promptly blown completely off of its hinges, old clumps of golden glitter flying through the air, covering the torn posters of boy bands and celebrities she can barely remember the name of. Broken white picture frames and missing pictures all lost to the clutter around her.

“Welcome home,” Amanda announces her voice still holding its same grandeur from her former years, but was raspy from the lack of use.

A raspy voice answers back, one that was more natural and carried around the room and like a spell you couldn’t un-hear it.

“You know, I saved you for last. I gotta say,” The woman clicks her tongue. “I never thought I would find you here. Under piles of rubble. You couldn’t wait to leave this hell hole.”

“How long did it take you to find me, punk?”

The woman smirks at the old nickname. “Not long at all. A couple weeks perhaps. After I killed James that is,” The raven haired woman gravitates to the broken bookcase, her thick heeled boots clicking against the dusty wooden floors. She runs her black gloved fingers across the spines of dismantled books. Legendary tales of Gilgamesh and The Odyssey, even a variety of Fitzgerald counterpieces.

Amanda hutches over in a coughing fit, huddled in one of the four corners, peeling floral pink wallpaper digging into her back. Mucus invaded her throat and tears threatened to spill from eyes at the scratching pain in the back of her throat.

The coughing blonde straightens the weapon under her frail arms using all her body’s strength and weight to keep aim at her sister’s head.

“You wanna know why I gave you a year? Well, I gave you all a year, but--”

“Does it matter?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t. Just thought you would want to know. Another mistake of mine, perhaps.”

“Just...spare me this question, Varcy, did she cry?”

Amanda meets her sister’s eyes, the ones that look so similar to hers, the first thing she noticed as a child. The irises that shone so brightly in the sun.

Varcy’s focus never falters as she speaks with certainty in her raspy voice. There was no trace of the squeaky lilts in her words or the threat of laughter as she pretended to be serious because at one time the young girl struggled to fully see the strictness and horrors of this world.

Something went missing and Amanda spent many years wondering not what it was, but why it took this long for them to notice. She thinks back to a time where she thought they had it all and couldn’t recall what was real anymore.

“No,” came Varcy’s monotone reply.

Amanda felt a small sense of pride, something she hadn’t felt in what felt like forever. Even if this battle wasn’t in her favor she could die without some of the pain and guilt she painstakingly tried to bury and throw under the burly pink rug in her room after the incident.

Everywhere she went, from New York to California, Georgia to Colorado, she found herself buying a new one. Every house and apartment she lived in for the past 15 years she had convinced herself that it was out of habit or necessity, but the rugs served as a reminder of what she was attempting to hide.

It was her inadequacies as a child, sister, and lover. Her assailant’s cold words felt like a breath of fresh air that she takes in so willingly--

A shot instantly rings out from the barrel of her shotgun, effectively scouring Amanda’s chest., swiftly piercing her heart. The strawberry blonde stares at her hands as they get lost in the flood of her own blood, spilling from her once youthful lips.

If Varcy was anything, she was accurate.

Amanda couldn’t do anything, but laugh, molasses like blood coating her teeth. Right under her nose her gun had been ‘magically’ rearranged and pointed at her chest. Losing her grasp on the weapon she allows it to fall between her ripped jeans covered knees. She could finally feel the dry humidity and burning warmth from the sun again.

She was no longer locked in her broken childhood home, a poor reflection of its glory days. No, she’s lying in the greenest of grass with the sun cascading down upon her youthful temple and crown. The eldest sibling continued to laugh until she could no longer. Until her heart finally gave into the self-inflicted wound.

The scene lasted approximately 90 seconds. It was enough time for Varcy to remove the only valuable thing in the house. Fitting her black satin gloved hand in the hole in the blonde’s chest Varcy searches for the missing piece.

“Ah, there we go.” Through the wet squelching of organs there was finally a clicking sound. Varcy removes the golden crystal Amanda’s chest fully collapsing on itself afterwards, but that is the least of her concerns.

“Grandfather, despite being a bastard, you never did lie.”

Walking over piles of rubble the raven haired woman pockets the jewel, exiting her childhood home one last time. She takes the collapsing pearly white stairs one at a time until she reaches the burnt front lawn that once was healthy green and perfectly trimmed. Something tugs at her chest, but it isn't enough to stop her from decimating the entire carcass with a wave of her hand, completely erasing its existence.

The dust settles around Varcy’s purple robes as she forces open a portal of green light. She must return to the confederacy immediately. And within a matter of seconds, dead leaves, the smell of rotting flesh and ash transform into obsidian floors and steel-cut grey walls. The burnt orange remnants of sunlight are a mere picture through the tinted glass windows of her office.

Varcy briefly wonders if the people, well the people that still remained missed actual sunlight. That is until she remembers how much of a pain it was to get rid of the giant star. Well, she didn’t technically get rid of the star, she just altered its state.

Varcy did always like sunsets. It symbolizes the ending of the day, the heat dissipating and giving everyone a slight reprieve. She used to feel as though she couldn’t breathe under the heavy gaze of the full sunlight.

Plus, she couldn’t have Amanda attempting to pull her full powers out on her. It would’ve been a bitch to deal with. Varcy also couldn’t have James and Amy using their freaky moon witchcraft on her. Burnt all the trees and plant life to deal with Venson, but she couldn’t take all the credit. In their hysteria the good people of Earth began to self-destruct, taking all of their resources down with them. And for Cara…

The robed woman feels a presence appear behind her, but she doesn’t bother reacting, her gaze focused on the dystopia in front of her and the marching men below her. All dedicated to her. They worship her like a false God.

“You’re back. I assume you found what you were looking for?” Andy, her second in command presumes. They’ve fought battles together, and kept a firm hand around the necks of the public. The commander was the only one that could see the mistress’ vision for the future. The only one that helped bring many of her plans to fruition.

“Of course. Did you doubt me?”

“No, if anything you’re accurate.” The dark haired man stands next to Varcy.

“Am I?” It wasn’t a question, but Andy shrugs anyway.

He wonders what the mistress was thinking. The commander often wished to be in her head as if it was a whole universe of its own. However, the stillness doesn’t last and Andy is forced to push his thoughts and personal inclinations to the recess of his mind. This wasn’t about him, it was about the confederacy.

Without lifting a finger Varcy pulls the golden item from her pocket. The jewel gleaming in the orange light as she forwards it to Andy.

The commander grasps the item suspended in air with his veiny hands, turning it back and forth between the tips of his fingers. He never saw anything like it. It was as hard as steel, yet he held it with delicate fingers.

“Come, we have things to attend to.” The mistress approaches her desk and opens the glass container stuck to her desk. Andy folds his hands behind his back as he watches Varcy press the black button inside it. Within seconds the steel walls began to shift and divide revealing a hall with a series of stone steps leading God knows where.

A small simper twists the raven-haired woman’s blush red lips as the commander follows, images of a shiny heart shaped locket in mind and she has the key to unlock it.