Quick Reference: Riley is seventeen as well, and she (like Owen and Aiden) is a senior.
The theme song for this chapter is "Broken" by Seether featuring Amy Lee from Evanescence.
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Incredible
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Rated T for language and violence.
She could no longer hear the voices. He ceased to repeat them. Her abundant voice lost all meaning. He didn't know what to listen for anymore. She was beaten of her will, her Voice having left her for dead. His voice was lost forever to the violent wind.
But the ones who created them made a crucial mistake when taking apart their miraculous creation. Now their experiments are getting minds of their own, and they're pushing at the time-weakened, crumbling walls. How much longer will they stay standing?
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Chapter Five: Breaking
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Monday, November 15th, 2010
"Riley, are you all right?"
Stupid question.
It was obvious, wasn't it? Her tight, crossed arms, her stiff walk, the limp hair hanging in her face. Couldn't her mother tell how totally not all right she was?
The young woman stumbled as she hurried up the stairs, her backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Riley!" Mrs. Kimmel called up the stairs after the huddled, retreating form of her daughter. "Riley Elizabeth Kimmel!"
The seventeen-year-old let out a low groan as she shut her door with a soft click. She hated her name. It was so… soft. So like her sisters, so like how everyone expected her to be.
There was Rosalyn, or more commonly Rose; the eldest of the Kimmel girls, and the most calm and collected by default. She was eight years older than Riley, and currently resided in a tiny suburb outside of Dallas where she worked as a fourth-grade teacher. With chocolate-brown hair, sky-blue eyes, and curves, she was the Prom Queen two years in a row. When Riley was sixteen years old, Rose married a doctor named Isaac McCaffrey. They have yet had any children.
Rachel was next; flamboyant, energetic, and eccentric. Her hair was a lighter, golden blonde, but her eyes were Rose's eyes—making Rachel a picture-perfect duplicate of her mother. Five years older than Riley, she was studying to be an engineer for NASA. As it turned out, when she focused her flighty nature she was a real brain. Not one to be left in her elder sister's shadow, she also sought out, and easily won, the Prom Queen title at their little high school in an Orlando suburb.
Rebecca, better known as Becca, was the closest to Riley in age, her elder by only two years. She was just like her father, with deep brown eyes and long, deep-brown hair. While her sisters were more calm and collected, Rebecca was always the loose cannon. She was the one who caused her parents the most grief, the highest loss of sleep. Prone to emotional rampages, she always had trouble controlling her temper.
Then there was the year and a half where she was a legal schizophrenic. Riley hated thinking back to those times—when she was fourteen and fifteen—because Becca was so terrifying. She was closed off—at some instances angry, others worried, and always prone to muttering to herself and having those intense mood swings. She was never fully sane. Her parents, having had enough, signed her up for a therapist as quickly as possible. It took then six months, but eventually Rebecca stopped hearing those voices in her head.
But she was never really cured. It was Becca's emotional instability that led to the legendary fight with her father when she dropped out of high school. Riley hadn't seen the youngest of her older sisters in nearly two years.
First is the worst,
Second is the best,
Third is the one with the treasure chest.
While the rhyme wasn't very accurate, it by all means expressed Riley's feelings for herself. She was the forgotten fourth daughter, always hidden by her elder sisters' shadows. Rose was the gentle beauty, Rachel the brilliant mind, Becca the worrisome schizo. Riley wasn't special like that. No coordination, no poise, no confidence, no will power, no obscene mental condition that at least made her parents pay attention to her. She was neither her mother nor her father, with long, dirty-blonde locks and chocolate-brown eyes.
Un-barfed chocolate, a small voice deep within her smiled.
She was certainly the little sister no one liked to talk about. For starters, she had awful balance. Her whole life, she felt as if something was missing, a piece of her that was lost long before she could remember. Riley had trouble standing most of the time, always pitching to one side before she could reign in her imbalance. She was also unbelievably skinny, like a bean pole—the doctors said she had almost no body fat—yet she ate nearly twice as much as her sisters. Thus the whole school was dead-convinced that she was bulimic.
It didn't help that she had two angry, red scars down slicing down her back in two long lines parallel to her spine. Nor that she popped pills like candy, and would often mutter to herself. Had anyone cared to ask, they would have discovered that Riley felt so alone in her mind, like the little voice in her head just got up and walked out without another word. They would have learned that she hated small places, white lab coats, and the hospital. That she could climb trees like a squirrel, and that she feared snakes.
But no one cared to ask.
"Riley." Mrs. Kimmel's voice was gentle now, as she tapped on her daughter's bedroom door. It opened nearly-silently, swoosh-ing over the carpet. The woman's gaze was concerned, warm, as she looked on at her youngest daughter, curled up in a tight ball on her bed. "How was school?"
"I just can't do this anymore, Mom," the teenager whispered, swiping away at the angry tears that trekked down her face.
Today was just another in a long line of tormenting. It wasn't the first time her so-called peers pushed her too far. But today…
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Riley was walking down the hall, her books clutched tightly to her chest. The extra weight of her textbooks kept her stable, but not enough to stay standing when Greta 'accidentally' bumped into her. Folders and books tumbled to the ground, and Riley along with them. A laugh trembled through the onlookers.
"Oops. Sorry, Kimmel." Greta's voice didn't sound remorseful at all. In fact, she sounded rather pleased. She gave a mean smirk down at Riley. "You should really watch where you're going." She paused for a beat, letting her complete revulsion seep into her words. "Freak."
As Riley scrambled to her feet, her face impassive while she was seething inside, Sean loped up, draping an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. Greta smiled innocently up at her beau, twirling a lock of long, unnaturally bright-red hair. And simply because she knew it made Riley squirm, she leaned up and kissed him firmly, twining her fingers through his thick, dark hair.
Riley blinked back the sudden burst of tears, but she couldn't look away. For some reason, she always pictured a different boy, a different girl. But watching her own mortal enemies still struck like a knife. She hated the both of them. The dynamic duo made it their personal mission to make every day of Riley's life a living hell.
But there was something about watching them kiss like that—like they were the only two people alive—that broke her heart into little pieces.
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"There's only four more days until break, dear." The mother sat down on the edge of the mattress, placing a tender hand on her daughter's thin shoulder.
"Not when those four days are at high school, Mom." Riley tried to shake away the feeling of total heartbreak, of betrayal, but it just settled more deeply into her chest. She couldn't get it out of her system. The awful thing about it was that she had no idea why.
"What if I told you we're doing something fun on Saturday?"
The young woman looked up, rubbing at her eyes in an attempt to calm herself for her mother. "What are we doing this weekend?"
Mrs. Kimmel smiled gently. "Rose has opened up her home for the week. She wants us all to have a real Thanksgiving, together."
Riley knew what her mother meant. Becca would be there, too.
"Are we flying?" Riley wasn't against the prospect of travel, even though it was to her older sister's house. But she would not do it in a tiny tin can of death.
Her mother frowned. "Why? Do you not want to?"
She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a tired whisper. "You know I can't do it, Mom."
"It's a twelve hundred mile drive from Orlando," Mrs. Kimmel replied tiredly, her brow creasing. "Who will go with you?"
Riley hated that condescending tone, like everyone underestimated her. She wasn't a child. She could handle herself. "Why can't I go by myself?"
Her mother nearly laughed. "I couldn't let you do that. You're too… special."
If by special you mean broken. Riley's brow furrowed, and she sat up said in a steely tone she wasn't aware of, "I am not flying, Mother." If only she knew how ironic those words were.
"Well," Mrs. Kimmel placated, "Rachel will be home Friday night. I might be able to persuade her to drive you." She stood, brushing her back her daughter's hair. "But you are coming."
"I never protested," she said flatly. Because protesting wouldn't have done her any good. They all would have gone anyway.
"Of course." Her mother gave another smile—that same one all moms give when their children protest but it does absolutely no good to change the fact—before exiting the room as quietly as she came.
Riley let out a moan and fell back onto her bed.
Dallas.
The word made her shudder. Dallas meant screaming cars and angry people and little sleep. It meant heated glares and cold shoulders. Ignorance and cruelty. Pain.
Riley sat up, and looked out the window. Why the city? Why not somewhere tucked into the mountains? Close to trees, the birds, the sky.
Outside, way up high, a flock of birds soared in a delicate V.
What would it be like to soar with the birds? To be kissed by the wind, to dip through a cloud? To fly on her very own wings, side-by-side with him? Her dark-haired boy, not Greta's. The boy with obsidian eyes, and that glorious smile—the one that made the world spin faster—meant for her and her alone.
Riley could fly with him…
…if he was real, and not just some boy that haunted her dreams.
If only.
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A/N: Notice a few parallels between this and the previous chapter? Were they intentional? Maybe. ;)
Now, Riley is different than you expected her to be. And it is completely, totally intentional. She's supposed to have been changed. By what? Well, you'll just have to keep reading, now won't you?
You know, I really like Riley, and I hope you will, too. Because you really do know her. She's pretty important, but, then again, so are her sisters.
Now, you've met six people. Do you know who each one is?
Don't forget your random facts guys! But no more than ten please. :)
On to the next chapter! (I'm actually very excited. Honest-to-goodness, this is my first time reading this story through from beginning to end.)
Your faithful author,
Lea