See You Yesterday

Chapter 2: Derythian

I have some pretty good memories with Alexander as well. He'd shape-shift into a teacher and pretend to tell me off. Then he'd shape- shift again into the simul leader at the time of when we were kids, and mock him. That was when we used to have a good time together. 

I don't live in a hut anymore. I live in the mansion with Alex, as it's law that anyone under eighteen needs a guardian to live with. We don't actually live side by side each other, though. He has a huge room in the center of the mansion, with a beautiful oak wood desk that I'd kill for, and a tall, wide wardrobe standing on his red cotton carpet, beside his bed- which is always set with loads of quilts and pillows.

There aren't enough rooms in the mansion to just give rooms out, surprisingly, so my room is the attic. It's comfortable enough, I guess, and it's a good place to think and the view is amazing from the window up there.

I use my shoulder to open the gate leading into the mansion garden. The garden has always been my favourite place inside simul territory. It's beautiful. It has trees everywhere and a greenhouse in the corner of it, where we grow our vegetables and fruit. The watering can is enchanted to lift up completely by itself to water them.

There's a huge, twisting maze that I've spent forever getting lost in. A few times I've climbed up a tree and looked into it, to see if I'll ever be any closer to finding the centre, as after a while, I remember my route. When I'm in the maze, I usually give up after a while of trying to find the center, and I trail out of it, extremely disappointed. But my spirits always lift when I can go over to the duck pond and watch the adorable ducks fight over the bread I feed them.

The best part of the garden, though, is the treehouse, which I built all by myself,  so I could get some peace and quiet and so I could be able to hide myself away from Alex and the rest of the world. It's been staying strong for six solid years, almost.

One foot after another, I climb up the rope ladder, careful not to swing backwards and forwards too much on it with my weight.

Inside the treehouse is a red velvet, slightly squashed chair and a striped rug on the floor. I managed to lug a coffee table up here when I was eleven, as well. It wasn't easy- I nearly dropped the rope I was using to pull it up when climbing up the ladder. It's a bit battered now. But up here also is a few of my books. The 1910 betrayal is one of my favourites because I can have a bit of a rant about it to anyone that will actually listen to me because of all the things being said about Leonardo in it. 'Carter was a disgrace to his kind...'etc etc.  

Usually, people silence me and tell me that *I* am a disgrace to MY kind.

I also have a few normal classics that were left behind by the builders centuries ago, which have just recently been found under the rubble in the work yard and given to Alex, who gave them to me as he had, 'No use for them or no interest in them.' Jane Eyre- written by a woman named Charlotte Brontë- is a book about a young girl, Jane, who is a headstrong, independent, young woman who denies a man, even though he would make her life better. She eventually marries a man who is poor, but she deems him suitable for her. I also have one called Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck, which is about two bachelors- George and Lennie- who are on the run from the place they last called home to go and find work on a ranch. They face obstacles like not being accepted, and work bullies, and women. Lennie is friendly but dangerous, and he causes a lot of trouble. In the end, George has to make the ultimate sacrifice if he is ever to truly belong anywhere. The final book that was found in the rubble, wasn't actually a novel, but it's my favourite. It's something called a play and it was written by a guy named William Shakespeare. It is called Romeo and Juliet and it is about forbidden love because of the differences and disagreements between two families. Romeo and Juliet both carry on loving each other, regardless, and Shakespeare ends up closing the curtains for them in his own, special way... 

Normal books really get to me. Their world sounds so much better than mine. I would love to be Jane Eyre and be able to be confident and love someone because I want to, and because I truly do love them, and not have to give false love to someone because society deemed them suitable for me. Because the thing is, my society is full of homophobic idiots. Infested with the little things, even.

I would love to be like George with his sharp wit and intelligence, and like Lennie with his kindness and determination. I want to be like them and find somewhere I can truly call home. And I'm prepared to sacrifice things for that. Just like George.

Finally, I want to be like Romeo and Juliet, to have the guts to go against my family's and community's wishes and do what makes me happy. 

All these characters are pieces of fiction. But if I eventually get what I want, I can stand for them; as something real and pure. If I get what I want, I'll do one more than them, because I'll be able to know what happens after the hero conquers all.

The thought makes me smile as I restart Romeo and Juliet on my flat-seated, red velvet chair.