Author's note: Please take a look! i wrote this for all audiences and i plan to add action sequences but it is... Show full author's note »
Chapter 4: Broken October 3rd 1942As Ian picked up his lone maroon suitcase and stepped out of the line our family was now lined up in outside our front yard, I held back tears once again. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. I couldn’t believe that they were taking our Ian away. I had seen my friends’ families being ruptured, but I never would have thought it would happen to mine. I just couldn’t take it. I wiped away the single tear that had betrayed me, now trailing its way down my cheek, and bit my lip. Stupid tears. They weren’t good for anything. They just displayed how vulnerable you were and showed your enemy your weak points.
Ian walked up to the officers in their gray-green uniforms and shiny black boots, through our old, rickety cobalt blue fence, and out into the uneven street. He looked so weak, standing next to the bulky, over confident officers in their shiny boots. It was as if the boots said Hey! Look at me, I’m shiny! The person who wears me has nothing better to do with their time than polish me!
I stared up at the sky once again, willing it to rain or do something. I hated it when I felt heavy hearted and the rest of the world couldn’t keep up with my emotions. Like the sun. It kept on shining atop the red roofs of all the houses on our block, despite the horribly depressing state my family was in.
The blinding rays from the sun shimmered off the newly fallen dew on our lawn, illuminating our yard with tiny diamonds. I looked up at one of the officers. He was smirking as if the fact we were in despair amused him. I hated him, and I mean really hated him. He was by far the biggest, but my father had always told me that I could never pick a fight with someone even remotely my size.
Ian hauled his suitcase up to the noisy automobile and onto one of the seats in the back. The officers just stood there, watching him climb in, with smirks plastered on their meaty faces. I watched them follow one-another into the car and drive off. He was gone. We all stood there, long after they were gone, me staring down some dust clouds that were settling back into the cold gray street, and everybody else looking in opposite directions, not one of them looking in the same direction. I could feel the tension in the air subside a bit, but then all that was left was a distillate feeling of abandonment.
Not being able to handle this heavy atmosphere, I turned on my heel and walked back inside our molehill of a house. I looked through each and every one of the rooms searching for something. Looking back, I suppose it was Ian I was looking for. When I had thoroughly searched each room and found no trace of him ever having been there, I returned to my room, throwing myself on my bed, and finally let myself burst into tears.
That night I fell asleep with my clothes and shoes on, not caring enough to remove them. I let the hopelessness I felt slip from my mind as I descended into unconsciousness. I replaced it with one thing and one thing only: the drive to do whatever it took to get Ian back.