Fragmented Soul

Jacob Manson

Why did I do it?

Why the fuck did I do it when I knew the outcome?

Why did I fucking do it when I knew what it meant for me?

Why did I fucking do it if I knew the consequences?

Because I still care about her more than I would like to admit to myself.

After all, she was one of my best friends for over four years. After Max, of course. Nobody ever can be a better friend to me than Maximilian Hart. She was the sixth in line of my care and trust, after 'Nica, Max and 'Tina. And my parents, as it turned out, though I'd never say it.

The school didn't do anything to me, Max and Henry fighting because we were in the right. And Benjamin Miles and Lana Blake, her parents, jumped in to help us.

But my parents did something to me. They grounded me for three months without going out and games for defending a defenceless girl too dangerous to even exist. The only person I can hang out with is Max. Before that, they had yelled at me for an hour, how I could've gotten hurt or hurt those 'young lads', even thought I am not allowed to use my powers on school property during class time and I came home unbruised. Max helped that, but I would be fine otherwise too.

Which leads me to my second point.

Why did I tell them we were attacked? I'm even more fucked now.

I thought they'd be proud of me for defending myself and Max back there, but mum just yelled at me for not being careful enough. She wasn't surprised, though, when I ran of to my room crying. I threw myself on my bed and started sobbing violently into my Cars themed pillow.

The bed sinks on its end. Dad sits in silence and waits for me to calm down. "She loves you, you know. We both do. We try to do what we think is in your and Veronica's interests, but," he pauses and swallows. "Everyone makes mistakes."

I look at him, few tears still rolling down my cheeks. "I know. I wish you were better at doing what's right for me and Veronica," especially for Veronica. Maybe, just maybe, it's to late for me, but it far from to late for her. There is still chance for Veronica, and if my sister can have it, she will.

Dad tries to explain himself. "We are trying our best."

"We are too," I reply bitterly.

Dad slaps him knees and gets up. "I know," he pauses before continuing. "I was once like you, you know. I hope you don't become like me."

"I'll try my best," if it was any other kind of situation, I would do just the opposite of what he says or of spite. But I really wish to make this family line go the right way, to break the circle. If my parents couldn't do it, I will. For 'Nica, Max and 'Tina. For my family.

Before exiting the room, dad says one more thing. "I'm proud of you, Jake. And, just know, I'll always love you."

The sincerity of his words sends a wave of emotions through me and I start crying once more.

The next week, I get the invitation for Gymnasium of William Shakespeare in the e-mail mailbox. Anyone can apply for it before they start secondary school, but they only send out fifty to each generation. The fifty with the best grades, recommendations, results in competitions and extracurriculars. Sadie is the sixth person to receive the letter in our generation because of her writing and fencing competitions and being eleventh in the country in a history competition is seventh grade. She got the letter shortly after, on the 20th March. I am the twentieth person to get the letter. Out of fifty. I got the letter I have waited for with anticipation for months. I qualify.

After a motivational letter, an interview, so many competitions and doing my best, I got the letter!

The letter secure you the education in any class that you want, but you still have to take the aptitude tests to perhaps determine which class is the best for you. 50 students, including me, have the direct entrance in the school. 210 other students may be in the generation. 260 in total, divided into ten classes.

The wave of relief and excitement washes over me. I got the fucking letter!

I run to the living room to find mum sitting on the couch and king something for work. "Mum!" I exclaim. "I got the invitation letter!"

She looks up from her computer in excitement and partial disbelief. "What?"

I wave my phone, the e-mail open. "I got the invitation letter!"

Mum gets up and pulls me in a bone crashing hug. "I'm so proud of you, Jakey!"

She was so proud of me she shortened the lasting of me being grounded if I promised I'd keep working hard.

That evening when I come back from karate, I'm greeted by sounds of crying and hushed talking. I don't even have to ask what happened; I can already guess. Mum or dad yelled at Veronica over getting that eighty-five on her last maths exam, and she broke under pressure, so they are arguing over it.

I drop my bag in my room and go to hers. Our parents are in the living room having a hushed and quiet argument. The walls are painted pink, and there is a poster of a few female scientists and another with Disney princesses, unlike my room, which is blue with just one poster of Nikola Tesla and Thomas Edison. Nica is laying on her bed, muffling her cries in the pillow unsuccessfully. I sit down next to her on the pink bed and stroke her soft, dark jet black hair.

"Nica," I whisper. Asking her whether she is okay would be stupid when I already know the answer is going to be negative. She is only in fourth grade, she is so little and fragile, and her soul is already fragmented because of our parents frustrations from childhood and teenage hood.

She looks up at me and whips her tears. "Congratulations on your invitation," she says so quietly I barely hear her.

"Leave my invitation alone. It doesn't matter a damned thing if you're crying here fucked because of eighty-five."

"Language!" exclaims Veronica quietly.

"I'm serious. You're my little sister. I cannot stand looking at you like that."

Nica throws her hands around my neck and starts sobbing. "Wha-What are you goi-going to d-do?"

"When I turn eighteen, I'll be old enough to legally adopt you, and with enough proof, I will. We will run away somewhere to America, I'll go to uni and you to secondary school. We'll change our names and they won't be able to find us."

She looks at me with hope in her dark eyes. It's so sad. "You promise?" she asks in a tiny voice.

"I pinky promise," I say, stretching out my pinky. 'Nica stretches out hers and we shake them. I know how much this promise means to her and I instead on keeping it.

Dad comes out of the living room, closing the door, and looks at me and Veronica hugged. He walks into the room and leans in the doorframe. "I'm sorry about your mother," he says, his voice hoarse. "She's stressed because of her work. Eighty-five isn't a disappointment. If you need help with anything, not just maths, ask me," dad then hugs both Veronica and I. "I'm so, so proud of you. And I love you so, so much."

I remember he said that to me last week. There is a lump in my throat. Do I really want to leave this man, my father, who raised me and took care of me when I was sick, who held my hand of each first day of the school, even this year, who helped me with my homework and studies? The father who tells me how he loves me and how he is proud of me?

The answer is no. I want to leave the competitive environment mum set up, the environment similar to one my dad grew up in. I want to leave dad who tried to break the circle but failed and hates himself because of it, dad, who's a coward, mum who was seen as a failure so she projected her insecurities on us, mum, who's is over competitive. I want to break the circle, and how am I going to do it if I run away? But how will I protect Veronica if we are here. I don't know, but I have time to figure it up.