In The Clear: Introductions III
Lilliana Sterling-Hargreaves, 17, Ottawa ON
"Lilliana!" She stiffens as the musical voice chimes through her bedroom door. "It's time to wake up!"
She turns to the clock posed above her desk and rolls her eyes. It's already seven o'clock, if Lilliana had waited for her nanny's rude awakening she would've been late. She's not six anymore; getting ready takes more than just brushing her teeth. Lilliana stands from her desk and closes her laptop to pack it away. Thankfully, at least one of them understands punctuality.
It doesn't matter that she woke up with the intention of having morning coffee with her father. It doesn't even matter that he'd already been long gone by the time she turned the kettle on. She's ready for another day.
Lucky me. Lilliana sighs loudly as another knock comes from her door. This nanny - she refuses to call her by any other name - has been with her since she entered high school. One would think she'd realize Lilliana has no interest in her by now.
Another trio of knocks breaks through what little patience she has left. "I'm up."
The door swings open and a rosy face greets her from the other side. If Lilliana didn't know the woman was being paid to smile in her vicinity, she'd make the mistake of believing her nanny enjoyed her company. At the very least, she always seems eager to invade Lilliana's personal space.
Mom probably paid extra for that. Lilliana's smile only lasts a second as she raises an irritated eyebrow towards the nanny. The next thought isn't nearly as satisfying. As if she cared that much.
They do care. At least that's the conclusion that Lilliana inevitably always comes to. They care enough to pay a nanny to watch over her despite the fact that she's in high school. They care enough to send her off to private school and open their wallets any time she asks. Truth be told, all they seem to think about is money these days. The fact that they spend any on Lilliana should be proof enough that they love her.
She wouldn't ask more of them. How could she when they're never in her vicinity long enough to do so?
Lilliana kicks her feet up onto the opposite chair and leans back as the script runs. Another student's book bag falls to the ground beside it, but she barely glances up long enough to notice. She's only made a few edits to her existing code, so she has every expectation it's going to come out clean. After that, she'll probably need to jump off the school's wifi to run its true function.
"Are you even listening?"
Lilliana tilts her chin towards the voice and blinks. "No."
She doesn't know this person, why would she be? The library isn't exactly conversation central and, besides, Lilliana is years past the freshman quest for friends. She briefly wonders if the girl sitting across from her is young enough to be in that phase, but her senior hoodie brushes that theory away. What's her problem?
The girl huffs and leans over to pick up the fallen book bag. She expects her to go back to whatever book she'd been reading, but instead the girl gathers up her supplies. She gives Lilliana one last annoyed look before settling back down a couple tables away.
Lilliana rolls her eyes. Whatever.
There was a time years ago that she would've apologized, maybe even picked up the fallen bag herself. In fact, ninth grade Lilliana would've probably tried to make conversation with the girl before any of that even happened. She wants to cringe just thinking about it. The only thing she'd known to talk about was school. She compared test scores, offered commentary on assignments, the whole nine yards. No one cared.
And pretty much the last thing Lilliana needed was more people who didn't give a shit about her.
She settles back into her chair as the checkmark appears on her screen. Lilliana smirks and minimizes the tab. Sometimes it really is as easy as adding a couple of lines to an existing code. None of the databases she's diving into have much in the way of obstacles let alone firewalls to stop her from getting what she's after. Most of them don't have more than a few layers of passcodes to get into private data.
Her smirk turns to a full-blown smile. My bot will crack them in seconds.
Lilliana's eyes flash to the clock on the bottom right of the screen. It's only three o'clock; this whole thing took her less than half an hour. She'll text the nanny for a ride home so she can shower and she'll still probably be ready before her parents even get off work.
But they'll be there when they can. There's a flutter of excitement because, for once, Lilliana isn't lying to herself. During the first sixteen years of her life, she could probably count on one hand how many times they had dinner together outside of publicity events. In the last three months, they've used the dining table as a family six times.
She knows why, but she pushes that to the back of her mind. It's nice to pretend that it's because they had a change of heart. It's nice to think about them deciding one day that they've ignored her for too long, that they actually want to do better. It's nice to think that they've rearranged their priorities and that Lilliana's no longer fifth on the list.
It's not true, but it's nice all the same.
Something changed all right, but it wasn't their hearts. Lilliana got an award last year in her computer science course. She remembers bringing it home and all but sliding it under their bedroom door for them to acknowledge. Her father's not a big fan of computers, he's too old-fashioned for all the new softwares.
Yet, he took an interest when she explained the code that got her that award. It was a password bot that she created to store all her own data. By the way he'd reacted, one would've thought Lilliana had just unlocked the secrets of the universe.
Apparently, he had an election coming up. He offered her anything she could ask for - a new car, a vacation, anything. She still hasn't figured out what she wants.
Truthfully, the dinners going over progress and stolen data are almost enough. It's amazing to just have a conversation where they actually listen. She can sneak in quips about school during the lulls. Her father's told her about a few of his opponents and her mom about some old CSIS cases. They almost feel like a family.
A weird family, but a family.
The walls speak differently here.
Lilliana peers up from the floor, her skin cool as her hand snakes against it. She doesn't feel cold. In fact, the only thing she can feel is a vibrating numbness that starts behind her eyes and moves through the floor. She places a hand in front of her. The hardness below it feels like sandpaper but looks like storm clouds.
She knows there's something wrong, but each thought ends… and she can't pick it back up.
She's simply here. She doesn't know what here means or even remember what it should mean. Has Lilliana always lived here - in a cast made of three sides of concrete and one of cylindrical steel? She doesn't think so. Truthfully, she doesn't know.
"We didn't know what she was up to." Her mother dabbed a dry cloth to the corners of her eyes. She sat in a wooden box, a microphone at her mouth and one hand clutched to her chest. Lilliana stared at her without words. She felt the anger boil behind her temples. Her mind screamed the same word, but her numb lips never moved.
Liar.
"I wish we could've been there for her." When did her mother learn to speak in her father's voice? Lilliana looked up and saw they'd switched places. Her eyes squinted, but she saw no tears in his eyes to match the sniffle between his words. "She didn't know what she was getting herself into. I regret not seeing the signs every day."
Liar.
Lilliana drags her tingling limbs across the concrete box. The courtroom is gone; the podium has been replaced with a rusted sink and toilet. She can no longer see her parents but her skull still screams their name. Liar. Liar. Liar. They blamed her. When the police came knocking after a cyber breach in the municipal files, they blamed her.
She did it.
She did it.
They made her.
She did it.
The door opens and Lilliana turns slowly towards it. Water drips from the tip of her nose to strike the orange uniform beneath it. The tears don't blur the guard any more than she's used to. Maybe tears are all that happen here. In jail. She remembers. I'm in jail.
The pair of guards step closer. Lilliana screams and kicks out at them, but they're not close enough to strike. Get away from me. The drugs haven't worn off enough to allow her numbed lips to move. The only sound she can make is a scream, a guttural, terrified scream that echoes back at her until she can imagine nothing else.
They grab her arm. One holds her head against the wall, her ear towards the concrete so that everything around her is muffled. They don't want her to know. I know. Lilliana thrashes in their grip as someone else enters the cell unseen. They uncap a syringe as a guard pulls her uniform down to expose the top of her arm.
Don't let yourself forget. They want to silence you. They don't want you to remember.
They're only protecting themselves; not her. Lilliana's parents don't care about her. They don't care that she was only doing what was best for them. They don't care that the only reason she rots here is because they made it so. Her parents chose not to confess their involvement. They chose to blame her.
The needle slides easily past her skin and her screams fade to erratic sobs. Her limbs fight against the restraint until the guards finally release her. Lilliana collapses into a heap, her chest rising quickly as she struggles to keep the anger. She wants it. She doesn't want to sit here in a puddle of misremembering. She wants to know. Her parents chose to blame her.
They chose to silence her.
The concrete warms slowly below her. It feels like she's sitting atop clouds, but with none of the comfort. Lilliana struggles up to her elbows until she's face-to-face with the steel bars. A pair of distorted eyes stare back at her. The familiarity is already fading as the medication tightens its grip.
Wake up.
Riley Lenihan, 18, Turney Valley AB
Riley smirks as his brother's truck finally frees itself from the driveway's pothole. He doesn't actually smile until they're out of view down the gravel road. He takes a deep breath, not caring for the dry winter breeze that chills the tip of his nose. The stern finality of the day has been overshadowed completely by the appearance of some goddamn peace and quiet.
It's hard to believe the last few months were just that - months. In the span of half a calendar year, everything in his otherwise unremarkable life went to horse shit. On a farm, death isn't exactly something people think about. Some years, calves die in the spring and life goes on. Almost annually some animal gets into their coops and slaughters a whole brood.
Sometimes, both your parents die in a high speed car crash off Highway 22 and, when that happens, nothing goes on. Not life, not the farm, not highschool exams or entrance tests, nothing. It all stops.
Those months were like hell. Even after his parents were buried six feet under and all the flowers started wilting in the farmhouse, it wasn't like they could be done with it. There were still estates to settle and custody hearings to attend. There were investigations because it's not enough that his father's shit driving killed him and his mom, but he also smoked another car. A few weeks and a couple thousand in settlements was all it took to heal that woman's crocodile tears.
Yet, it's been nearly four months and this is the first time Riley's even considered smiling. It's progress, even if Riley fucking hates to admit it. At least he can finally prove what he's always claimed - he'd be much happier if everyone just left him alone.
Blackhollow Farms is his as of about five minutes ago. Not legally, because he's only seventeen, but in every other sense. His older brother, Daniel, gave him only one instruction before he left with their younger brother. Don't burn the place down. The earlier smirk pulls again at one side of his lips. Riley's glad that his brother still has at least that much faith in him.
"Where the fuck have you been?"
Riley jumps as the shouted question is emphasized by the heavy door of a pickup being slammed from the top of the driveway. He turns to see a red-faced Alec marching towards him, the pattern of his scarf nearly the same colour. He raises an eyebrow as Alec gets close enough to shove him backwards with both hands.
Riley catches his boyfriends' wrists and instead pulls him in towards his chest. He smiles and has to dodge what's probably meant to be a slap. "I texted you six times."
Riley pats down his jacket's pockets and comes up empty. He must've left it in his room as he helped load Daniel's truck. It's not like he'd ever been good at texting back before this. Yet, Riley sees the flash of concern still burning in Alec's eyes and almost feels bad.
"You look nice." Not exactly an apology, but Alec should know not to expect one of those. They've only been together for a matter of months, but it feels like they've been putting up with each other for much longer.
Alec sighs and pushes him halfheartedly away. "You look… like Riley."
"You say it like it's a bad thing."
"At least you're wearing a jacket," Alec says with a roll of his eyes.
"Oh?" Riley says playfully as he shrugs both arms out of the worn coat. He shakes it a few times in front of Alec before tossing it aside onto a nearby snowbank.
"It's negative twenty."
Riley shrugs. "I can't hear you over how warm I am."
"You're an idiot."
"No," Riley replies with a smile. He starts back towards the paddocks. Now that Alec's here, they'll be able to get through the chores in either half or twice the time. Considering it's them, probably the latter. "I'm your idiot."
Rather than the kiss he deserves, Riley's joke is rewarded with his own snow-soaked jacket slapping him on the back of the head.
For the second time in Riley's life, everything stops.
He stands just inside the threshold of the hospital room. His hat and gloves are burning holes through his skin but he can't think long enough to remove them. He knew what he was running into - where he was going, who he was going to see - but it didn't feel real until right now.
The bruised face on the bed doesn't even look like Alec.
Riley stares for what feels like hours. He examines every swollen curve, every point where his skin's been broken. He searches for some kind of proof that it isn't him, but he knows. Riley has every urge to rush to him but no idea what he'd do if he took those first steps.
He looks so fragile and Riley feels less careful than a nuke in a china shop. Even the breaths that tighten at the top of his throat feel fit to explode. He can't decide if the fists shaking at his sides are going to land against his own fucking mouth or someone else's.
He knew what Alec's dad did most nights. He all but begged Alec to move to the farm with him, but he always refused. Riley should've taken the damn kid hostage.
Riley swallows as tears start to build behind his eyes. He brings a shaking fist to his lips as if maybe holding them in will do anything at all, but of course it doesn't. Alec just lays there. He doesn't open his eyes. He doesn't turn to look at him. He doesn't say how fucking stupid it was for Riley to drive here when school was cancelled because of last night's ice storm.
Riley's never wanted so badly to be called a fucking idiot.
"Can I help you, sir?" He stiffens as the soft voice enters the room behind him. He never checked in at the nurse's station. He didn't really think about it. It's not like he knows the goddamn protocol around here. The last time he visited one of these places, he was sent directly to the bereavement room.
Riley swallows. Yes, make him better so we can go home. Even he realizes how fucking pathetic that sounds. "When will he wake up?"
The nurse's expression softens even further and Riley has the almost overwhelming urge to punch her square in the jaw. She hasn't done anything to him. In fact, she's one of the very people trying to help Alec. That doesn't mean Riley's prepared for anyone to see him like this.
"We're not sure yet," she explains. "I'm afraid that Mr. Periard's injuries are quite extensive. His body needs time to heal. Doctor Freeman just stepped out, but when he gets back I'm sure he'd be more than happy to speak with you."
"No," Riley blurts out. He can't even force himself to look at Alec again before he all out sprints out of the hospital room. He tries to hit the elevator button three times before his shaking fingers finally manage. He doesn't know if he's going to get inside and break down or break something but he can't force himself to just stand in there.
There's something he has to do first.
The further Riley gets down Highway 22, the closer the gas pedal gets to the floor below it.
It doesn't feel like he's looking at anything - not the icy snow banks or the cars he's passing - but he can't tell himself to stop. Riley can't pretend that he's scared because he knows that's not what the fast beating in his chest is telling him. This isn't the first time he's sat himself in front of the steering wheel and decided to make the speedometer do a one-eighty.
Even if it ends the same way it has for so many others, he'll never be worse than his father. At worst the pair will be dead equal in hell where they belong.
Isn't this what his father did over a year ago? He saw the icy roads and decided that, fuck it, Riley's mom's life didn't matter enough to be careful. Maybe he's pessimistic but who is here to tell him that? Not his parents, not Daniel, and not Alec.
No one's here, so Riley will drive however he fucking pleases.
More than likely, he'll make it back to the hospital. In fact, the way he's going, he'll be there in record timing. That's all Riley wants to do right now. The detour back to Alec's house made him feel better, but that feeling was never going to last. With any luck, Alec's father is never going to even see him in the hospital. If Riley has it his way, Alec will never see his father again.
He has absolutely no problem making good on the threats he made this afternoon. Riley learned how to shoot almost as soon as he could walk. He was never that into sniping wild animals, but for Alec's father he'd gladly make an exception. The gun he pulled from his own father's safe wasn't loaded when Riley broke into Alec's old house today - he didn't trust himself enough to bring bullets.
Next time, he doubts he'll be feeling nearly as gracious.
Fuck. Flashing red and blue lights turn onto the road behind him. Riley swallows as he lifts his foot quickly from the gas pedal, but one look at the speedometer tells him it's too late. Still, he slows down and pulls to the side on the off chance he's wrong. When the cruiser slows to a stop behind him, Riley hits the back of his head off his seat. The last thing he needs on top of all of this is a fucking speeding ticket.
A/N: And here we are again. We're now a third of the way through introductions and I'm very glad for that. If you have the time, let me know what you thought of Lilliana & Riley.
Next up will be Eris & Lyanna!
~ Olive