SOPHIE'S POV
It's been about a couple of weeks. 15 days.
Biana told the council about how I remember. They were going to take me back. To erase my friends for good.
I told them to fxxx off. Bronte inflicted on me. I inflicted them back.
I grabbed my backpack that I already put everything in. I prepared just in case things went sideways. They did.
I didn't get to tell Grady and Edaline I love them.
And now I'm on the run. Because I refuse to let the world forget Tam and Keefe. I straight out refuse.
The Shores of Solace. I've kinda grown on the name. Since Keefe wasn't here, and who knows what they did to Cassius, I live here for now. I sleep during the day, and move during the night. Stealing food, stealing elixirs, all that good stuff.
Once in a while, I crave the sunlight. And with those elixirs, I make my eyes ice blue in an honor for Keefe. And I make my hair silver, in the memory of Tam. I wear frilly things, because Sophie Foster doesn't like frilly things. But when I'm part Keefe and part Tam, there is no Sophie Foster. I usually wear a hue of green, because it's the opposite of red on the color wheel. Because Biana Vacker once said that red was Sophie Foster's color.
If anyone asks, my name is Kenra. Originated from Kenric. Because if Kenric was here, Oralie would have stood up for me. But he isn't, and she didn't. So I work with what I've been given.
I get lonely. I do. So I replay my whole entire life. The one with Keefe and Tam, not the fake ones the washer gave me.
But I'll be alright. I'm alright. I am.
Because I refuse to let the world forget Tam and Keefe.
It's night.
I sneak out. I didn't drink my elixirs, because who can see me at 3:00 a.m. anyway?
I look at the glittering towers of the councilors. So fancy, so sparkly, faking their glamour, hiding their dirty work.
It makes me mad. So, so mad.
So I levitate up and pour the stolen paint on the columns. Every single one of them. A dripping rainbow on every single tower. It covers up the reflective crystals. And in huge, black letters, I write these words. Every single stupid tower. Every single building of lies.
And at the bottom, I dip my hand in black paint and press my hand on it. After a good ten seconds, I pull my hand away. A handprint remains.
I smile. The sun is rising, and they will see.
I give one last glance at what I wrote as I lightleap away. I give a bitter smirk, even though no one is watching.
WE ARE PROUD OF WHO WE LOVE
