Chapter 3:

Prison cell in Burbank, California

The way it sounded, from this blonde-haired boy, this man stuck in this fire could've been killed on purpose. I wouldn't be surprised if the corps killed this man, it sure as hell wouldn't be the first time this happened. There would be no way for only one criminal not to be saved because they forgot to click his lock off. I'm unsure of whether this guy knows that the corps most likely were the ones who executed a plan to kill this criminal.

To change the topic I mutter a quick," Addison Oates," to him. Just because I gave him my name, doesn't mean I trust him more than any other stranger . I've heard all kind of stories about how all sorts of people's companions betray them at one point or another. As they say, you can only trust you, yourself and your own. My name somehow brings a smile to his cheeks. Bright white blocks peep out from behind his lips and dimples appear high on his cheeks.

"Nice to meet you Addie," He blows me a kiss and I pretend to fake gag at the gesture. Out of all the people I have ever meet, I have never meet someone as inane and childish as him. "What's your name, Pretty Boy?" I ask him in a somewhat of an apathetic tone. This guy in front of me sticks out his tongue and then laughs throatily. I guess i'm getting payback for not telling him my name when he asked in the first place. His arm muscles tighten when I throw a playful fist at him.

The boy on the small cushion next to me yawns ," Fine, my name is hat trick to you." He pretends to tip an imaginary hat and smirks at , how anticlimactic of him. I roll my eyes for what seems the millionth time today. My conscious at the back of my mind keeps whispering to me. It tells me to still no trust this guy or anyone for a matter of fact. My eyes are beginning to droop and his seem to be too.

"I can barely keep my eyes open," I let out a soft laugh and he nodded. "Same, night Addie," his voice trails off at the end as he lays back and closes his eyes. I lay down, but i'm unsure if i'll be able to sleep tonight, as i'll probably planning an escape and I'd rather avoid all the monsters that lurk in my dreams. As childish as it seems, most of the nights where I do get a decent amount of hours to sleep they're plagued with nightmares. Instead of doing any of those, I pull out my journal that the corps ' rules permitted me to keep. As long as it was thoroughly checked, I would be allowed to use it during my imprisonment.

Dear Diary,

Everything that has happened today, has thoroughly exhausted me. The only upside to today was I got to meet this 'Mr. Hat Trick' so he says. One downside, is that i'm in prison. Well, it kind of started when I jinxed myself by saying I could steal anything without getting caught and then trying to steal some money out of this lady's purse.

Anyways, my nickname for this guy is pretty boy and I did not name him this for no reason. This boy has striking bright platinum blonde hair that is spiked up and his eyes are a electrifying icy blue that caught my eyes the minute I saw him.

Sincerly,

A.

I set down my diary on my lap and my mind wandered to all the possibilities for escaping this place. The cushions suck me in and I rest my eyes for a few minutes, but soon the minutes turn into hours.

Pine needles brush my face as I conceal my squeals of anticipation as I sprin cross the sea of greens and hues of brown. We know our father would become outraged if he figured out that we snuck out again. How did he expect us to keep our lack of attention span at bay if the house was so dull? There were no toys to play with and no cable television to catch our attention. Also, dad wouldn't come home from work with sweets to subside our appetite till twilight.

The crackle of crunching fall leaves disappears behind me. I turn my head to look behind me but my brother has disappeared from my clutch. Knowing him, his lying wait behind one of the large pine trees hoping that i'm stupid enough to pass by him. Instead of turning back to look at him, I continue running through the shaded night. My socks curl up in my boots, the familiar bite of the chill of the night reaches my cheeks, and my legs begin to burn out of exhaustion. I'm not paying attention to where i'm heading, but I know that i'm running towards the lake. Before I get there, I plan where i'm going to hide. A few days ago we went canoeing, I could hide under their overturned surfaces or I could climb up the tree that sits by the lake, shading us when I have picnics in the heat of midday.

My memory flashes back to when I was younger and we would sit under the fairly large tree with sacs of food and a porcelain teapot. My brother's brown hair would shine a slightly gold color in the light and his freckles that blessed his face ran along his nose and forward across his cheeks.

I'm thrust back into the game of hide-and-seek we are playing, jagged breathing sounds throughout the forest and i'm unsure if it's mine, my brothers, or some other presence. My legs begin to grapple onto the tree closest to me and I begin to climb it as quickly as I can. As soon as I know it, I'm at the top of the tree and I find it hard to look down at the dizzying forest below me. My arms are shaking as I hug onto the poor tree for dear life. This wasn't as good as an idea as I thought it was, my mind spins and I feel like i'm going to be sick as bile rises in my throat. The words stick that I try to belt out stick to the insides of my lungs like chewy bubblegum. I hear my name being called out and by now tears are streaming down my cheeks.

Again, my name is called out to me and I force a cry for my brother out. I open an eyes to look down to the world and I let out a shriek as i'm terrified of how far up I am in the trees. My brother finally finds me and yells insurances back to me, but I still can't help the fear that grips my heart.

I can tell he's coming after me, but I refuse to look back at him. A familiar warmth and smell encases me as my brother gathers me up in his arms and starts to tread down the tree with me in his arms. A gasp escapes my lips as he loses his footing and plummets down. I manage to grab onto a trunk on the way down, cuts and scrapes still covering my arms from the several hits that I took on the way down. I bit my lip as I look down, I'm not too far from the ground to jump and make it safely. My eyes scan over my brother who wasn't as lucky as me, blood dribbles down his chin and he lies their limply.

Quickly, I jump down without a second thought and run over to where my brother lays. Tears are still streaming down my cheeks and I let out sobs as I lean over my brother's stomach. At the age of six, I'm unsure of what to do in this situation. When we had television before mom died, she would always leave it on, so the living room would always hum with noise. There was this one program that would interest her and sometimes she'd spend hours with the vivid colors from the television would dance across her face. The diction used flowing out of the speakers sitting on top of the television flew over my head , substantially i'm too young to understand the occurrences been shown on the screen. A women standing over a man wraps her lips around the man lying limp on the ground. She presses her hand against his lower chest while repetitively pressing down. My attention span shortens , the channel appearing is mundane compared to the cartoons with splats of colors across the screen. When I turn back to the screen, the man who I assumed was dead is now hugging the girl that saved his life.

Since i'm six, this is unfamiliar to me and my stomach flips in nervousness. What if I don't do it right and I accidently hurt him by doing this? I start with pressing my hand where his diaphragm rests. His skin begins to look wan and lips begin to turn a bluish color. He's dead, and it's all my fault. I can't bare to look at him any longer, my stomach churns and I run back to the house. The screen door slams as I rush towards my room, I grab my backpack and shove items that I know I can't live without; my diary, mom's ring and some food that won't spoil. The pounding in my ears sounds louder as I look back at my home for the last time. The silver car still is missing from the driveway and I wonder when dad will get back. Will he ever find brother and what will he think of me?

I murdered my brother, I can't believe myself. Guilt plages my heart and I find it hard to breath; it feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest. The further distance I put between my house and me, the more my mind numbs and I keep my mind occupied. My six-year old lungs burn and goosebumps cover my body.