A Country Divided : Through Blood United

The Beginning: Life With Evan

I dashed through the long hallway and pushed my brother out of the way when we reached the top of the staircase. He tumbled to the ground, laughing obnoxiously.

"Hey! That's against the rules!" Evan squealed through a huge wave of uncontrollable laughter.

"Yeah!" I shouted as I raced down the flight of stairs. I abruptly turned my head toward Evan, who was struggling to stand upright due to his fit of laughter. "Evan, it's against your rules!"

As I turned away and made my way down the stairs, I could hear Evan's footsteps getting louder and louder. He was gaining on me, and he was gaining on me fast. I had to do something to... slow down my brother so he couldn't cross the finish line.

A mischievous smirk curled on my lips as I thought of the perfect idea. I held onto the rail of the stairs and stuck out my leg, my foot pointing upward. I giggled in satisfaction once Evan tripped over my leg and flew forward. He rolled down the last remaining steps and face planted onto the floor at the base of the stairs. He clutched his knee and groaned in pain.

"You crippled me!" Evan shouted angrily in through a small laugh.

"Sorry, bro!" I yelled back at my injured brother as I passed him. "I have to defend my title!"

I dashed around the corner to the dining table, my socks sliding across the smooth hardwood floor. Without looking behind me, I leaped into the small wooden chair closest to me and scooted into the dining table, the table cloth softly draping over my kneecaps.

My mother and father then entered into the spacious and noise-filled room, their arms locked together. My mother's curly hair bounced up and down with each of her strides, reminding me of my own set of curly hair on my head.

My father, on the other hand, appeared as if each lock of hair was made of spun gold. He also had radiant purple eyes like my brother and I, which was a rare genetic disorder passed down from generations.

Both of my parents sported tan skin that was dotted with hundreds of tiny freckles. My mother had a brown mole next to her lip, but she always referred to it as a "beauty mark", since it did indeed add to her beauty. My mother had bright turquoise eyes unlike the lavender color of my dad's. They were both so kind and forgiving, and I felt that they wouldn't hurt a fly out of choice.

I know that my mother has fought in the Mexican-American war. Even though she was born a Mexican, she crossed the border to live in America with her mother.

My mother was soon captured by the Mexican general Santa Ana and was taken into the Mexican army and was named their best fighter. I can't imagine what it must be like to fight against your own country against your will and then kill your own mother while doing so.

I had a great sense of respect for my mother because I respect how she was able to pull through those horrors without panicking or breaking down. On top of that, she stood up to the Mexican general and helped America. She's such a tough, understanding woman, and I'm really glad that she found her husband or British descent, Nick, and was finally able to rest here.

My father turned to his wife in an exhausted manner. "Chloe, are they racing again?"

She giggled and shook her head in amusement. "I guess so, they do this literally every single day, so I honestly don't really care anymore. It's more fun for them, and they get to exercise." My mother glanced in my direction and smiled, her radiant white teeth lighting up the kitchen.

Suddenly, I heard a loud thunk come from behind me. I turned my head toward the origin of the mysterious noise, and it was Evan, who slammed into the kitchen wall as he attempted to run around the kitchen corner.