This is for Writer of World's "Feels Hurt Contest." It's supposed to be sad.

There's a lot of sadness going on in the world right now so I thought that maybe I didn't want to do this. Last minute, I came up with this.

I wrote this story thinking about the Syria. My story will never compare to the horror going on there. The stories I've read of some of the survivors are absolutely heartbreaking. I already know my story will not capture the same sadness and horror going on there yet it is the inspiration for this shoddy work.

This will hopefully, at the most, only take up five chapters at the most. I'm hoping to do it in three parts but I don't know. We will see.

"I dare you to eat it," Link said. We were both in his garden. It was a place we liked to go to after my lessons. For as long as I could remember, Link and I had loved his Mother's vegetable garden. We spent time here as toddlers, playing make believe scenarios before moving on to just taking walks and gossiping about the students in our class.

I stared at the tomato, weighing it in my hand. It was an unnaturally deep shade of red, perfect in size and shape. There were no marks on its flawless skin. "You can't just eat a tomato raw," I said, my voice lofty. I was always doing that, even at fourteen. Even when Link was two years older than I. He always teased me about being a whole two years younger for as long as I could remember him being in my life, and as a result, I was always trying to outsmart him, trying to prove that I was better.

"So you're a chicken," Link said, a slight devilish grin overtaking his features.

"Am not!" I protested. It was a cloudless day, and it was deceptively quiet. "Though you're an ass," I added.

He shoved me none too gently and I almost toppled over backward, but steadied myself at the last moment, grounding the tomato in the dirt in the process. "That wasn't nice," I protested.

He shrugged, his eyes flashing dark. Was he angry? I slowly sat upright, tomato now slightly bruised. I took his hand in mine and placed the tomato in his hand, closing his fingers over it. Because his hand was much larger than mine, his fingers rounded over them more than mine had. "Here," I said. "You eat it."

"Why would I want this?" he muttered, his eyes not meeting mine.

I hated when Link was angry at me. He was my most important person in the world. I'd known him since my parents and I moved to Ordon next door to him. Link and I were inseparable. He was my best friend. My very best friend.

And maybe something more. Or at least, I hoped. For some months I felt shy around him, watching the sun light up the gold in his hair. "I'm sorry," I said. "You're not really an ass."

He looked at me this time, his cheeks reddening. I knew he was embarrassed that he had gotten angry over my comment. And suddenly it was just a little awkward between us, the silence only punctuated by the slight breeze carrying the scent of blossoming flowers. It was spring in Hyrule and even with the rumors circulating about how Hyrule was currently in civil unrest, I couldn't not take the chance to be outside. Mother warned me so many times about not going outside unsupervised nowadays. She had watched the news much more often now, religiously tracking where the rebels would be next and praying fervently that they would never reach Ordon. but I couldn't just not see Link outside of school. I couldn't ever think about leaving Hyrule, though Link had always told me he'd wanted to go and travel the world.

Link lifted the tomato to his lips and my heart tugged painfully. I was envious of that tomato. I watched him bite into the tomato. The juice exploded over his mouth almost at the same moment I heard a firework go off with a loud pop!

Instantly curious, I turned toward the direction it came from. I can't be sure but I thought it came from the right, somewhere where my house is. I frowned. It was not National Pride Day so the fireworks bit puzzled me. I turned back to Link, and he was not looking at me anymore, nor was he chewing at the tomato. His lips were coated in red tomato juice. His whole expression was frozen. I watched a trickle of juice slide down the side of his chin, his ears poised and alert.

"What do you think that was?" I asked and then there were two more firework noises. They sounded more insistent, angrier this time. And suddenly I understood. I stared at Link's face who had now unfrozen just enough to look at me, the horror in his eyes evident by how the irises in his eyes tightened. My heart beat quicker and I stand up, panic rushing through my blood. I try to ignore the redness of the tomatoes surrounding us.

"Zelda," Link said, and his voice which was usually slightly prepubescent, was raw with urgency. "Don't."

I ignored his command when I heard another shot ring out. They were not fireworks. They were coming from my house. I nearly stumbled over turning around. I felt Link's fingers wrap around my ankle as I took one step and I tripped, falling into the freshly turned soil, crushing the tomatoes around me. I felt the juice seep into my skin, my hair, I could smell the heaviness in its scent.

"Let go of me, Link," I said, my voice faint. Instead his grip on me tightened and he grabbed my shoulder pulling me backward against him. I tasted fresh dirt. "Let go of me!" I yelled. Blood was pounding in my ears and my fingers had gone numb and clumsy. All I could think of was Mother and Father.

"No," he hissed, his voice suddenly at my ear. He wrapped his arms around me so that I couldn't struggle against him. I tried anyway. I heard two more gunshots and whimpered, struggling harder. I saw the world tilt and blur and tried my hardest, my limbs working against his but Link was too strong.

I don't know how long I worked my arms against him when I finally gave into exhaustion and there were no more gunshots. He shifted me so that the side of my head was pressed against his chest and he held me tight. "I'm so sorry, Zelda," he said. Vaguely, I wondered why he was sorry. His parents hadn't died. He hadn't killed them. My parents couldn't be dead either. Those noises had to be fireworks. "I had to do it. I had to keep you safe." His voice sounded thick, scared. "I couldn't lose you." His hand was in my hair, running his fingers through the remnants of tomato juice and clumps of dirt stuck to my hair. I closed my eyes.

I was listening to the way his heart beat against my ear. It was quick, nervous, fragile. It was frightened. But the rhythm calmed me down. I focused on that heartbeat. I don't know what came over me but it was comforting. I had Link at least.

I don't know how long we held each other like that, but eventually when I opened my eyes the sun had begun to set and when I made to get up, Link didn't restrain me. "I have to see check up on my parents," I said in a calm voice. "I need to see if they're alive."

Link watched me, fear in his eyes. I think he saw something there. That even though I said that I wanted to see if they were alive or not, I still knew the answer. Then he nodded.

I meandered down the hill, vaguely noticing how quiet it was. The breeze blew through my hair, deceptively gentle.

When I reached my house it was as I thought it would be. There was no shock. The revolution had spread here. There would be blood. The door was ajar, the lights still on. I could make out the cheerful yellow my parents had painted the interior of our house with. Mother had always complained it was too bright on the eyes but Father had loved the yellow. We need color in our lives, don't you think, Zel?

I was thinking of how he had said that to me, the way his fingers brushed through the top of my hair carelessly. I remember the way he'd looked at me conspiratorially, him winking at me, before turning to Mother whose face was flushed in anger and was scrubbing a pot at the kitchen. I pushed open the door. The television was thoroughly smashed and it was sparking slightly. I tried to picture what had happened. My parents were fond of watching the television. My mother had always wanted to wear make up like the movie starlets in Altea but make up had been getting more expensive until it was hard to find. The rebels had been stealing and razing stores that sold it, saying it was forbidden to wear.

I found them in their bedroom. Father was on the bed with three bullet wounds at his chest. There was a damp spot in the seat of his pants. I pretended I didn't notice that part. I got down on my knees and found Mother half hidden under the bed, half naked, the insides of her thighs red. I looked around and noticed how much red there was in the room. More red than yellow. I remember thinking it was almost like Link's tomato garden and then I felt the world tilt around me.

I think I died.

Dying would have been great.

Instead, the Goddesses punished me by keeping me alive.