Straight in a Crooked World (Teen Fiction/Dystopian)

Chapter 9

 ***Jane

            As the large gate before us creaks open I can see the outline of a large house behind even larger trees that trace the long winding driveway. Carrianne, my loving sister, hasn't said a word to me since we left that horrible house I was forced to call home. Every day I hoped she would arrive and finally today she has! However, the homecoming isn't as loving and welcoming as I had imagined.

With a line of men in tow, we are ready to get Ashlia back. She needs to be with her mother if she is ever going to become anything of importance. Everything I know I have learned from Carrianne and she would be a wonderful mother.

            Winding around the circular driveway we park in a perfect formation; you would think it was staged. Carrianne, beautiful as ever, walks up to the large, maple wood French doors. The navel leader, a large man with a buzz cut and an arrangement of badges on his left breast pocket, accompanies Cari. I reach for the silver door handle. A loud click radiates from the door. Forcibly, I pull at the handle to no avail. "Hey," I tap the muscular shoulder of the soldier who is driving. "Could you open the door? I need to go."

            "No."

            "Excuse me? I'm Carrianne's sister. I should be able to accompany her."

            "Orders." His one word responses irk me. I give the door handle one more pull. The cheap metal snaps off and hits the window adjacent to me.

            "Shit." From the driver's seat the soldier chuckles back a laugh. Ignoring him, I look at the button that unlocks the back seats. Slowly, I slide against the leather seat towards the driver. Suspicious, his small eyes glare at me through the rear view mirror. My veins tingle with adrenaline. How long has it been since I've used any of the training I spent years perfecting? It's been too long. I glance at the driver and give him a slight wink. Quickly, I unlock the door and jump out of the SUV, somersaulting to the edge of the driveway. My escape may be overly dramatic, but it feels good to use my muscles again.

As quickly as I am out of the car so is he. I could easily run to the front door and enter with Carrianne, but my blood is drowning in a layer of adrenaline.  I can't stop now. His calloused hands grab at my bare shoulder. Swiftly, I bring my hand under his large arms. My palm cracks against the bridge of his nose. A large stream of blood begins to pour out of his crooked nose. "You're trying you luck, little lady." His hands reach for me again. With expert reflexes, I duck. He catches thin air. Without fault, I spin on my left foot and pull his feet from under him. "Umph!"

"I don't need luck." Before he can he can get on his feet, I am off at a sprint. It feels good to fight again.

Pulling both handles of the expensive front door open I reveal Carrianne and the navel leader arguing with a large Irishman I vaguely remember. Six eyes stare back at me, as if I'm a mad woman. "You always had a thing for dramatic entrances." A voice radiates off the walls of the long hallway. "Jane, Carrianne," John nods towards us. A small, mysterious smile forms at his lips. "And you. I haven't met you." He reaches a hand out towards the officer. The officer stares at the outstretched hand, as if it is a foreign object. Slowly, John retracts his arm. "Not one for handshakes. It's alright. Sheldon," John turns towards the Irishman "could you escort our guest into the family room?" Sheldon's bright blue eyes widen in surprise, "Please, Sheldon. I believe Carrianne has some things she would like to discuss." John looks at Cari in a way that make her bones stiffen.

"Follow me." His strong Irish drawl is almost undecipherable.

With John walking behind Sheldon, and I trailing at the back of the group, we make our way through a maze of hallways. It's a wonder how Sheldon or John manages to not get lost every day.

 Finally, we enter a large living area. Three large windows, draped with dark red curtains, lighten the room in a way I have never seen. John motion for us to sit at a large, brown couch decorated in an arrangement of pillows fit for a home décor magazine. He positions an intricately carved, wooden chair in front of us and sits. Sheldon, being sure to observe any mysterious behavior, takes his post at the door. The apprehension is suffocating, yet John seems calm as a river. His eyes are glued to Carrianne. "Cari." He smirks, "I see you are still impersonating my fiancé. Is there even a point to it now?" She stares in disbelief. Her dyed black eyebrows rise in surprise.

"I don't know what you mean, John." Her voice falters slightly.

"Yes you do. You took my Aryae - my fiance, Ashlia's mother, away from us." His tone becomes hostile. "What do you want with my daughter?"

"My daughter." Carrianne corrected.

"No!" John's hands slam the hard, wooden arms of the chair. "She is my daughter," he quiets his voice, making it all the more intimidating. "You have no relation to her what so ever."

"John," Anesthesia's full lips curl into mischievous smirk, "neither do you."

"I love her mother," determination and anger fill every syllable, "I love Ashlia. I raised her and your daughter because you abandoned Rainy. Now you have the guts to show up at my house, with a line of Confederate officers, and think you can take my daughter?"

"She should be mine! Not that good for nothing gay spawn of mine. If anything, that good for nothing immigrant of yours abandoned her child. Thank god immigration took her away." Anesthesia sneers.

 John flips the wooden coffee table barrier between us and him. The naval officer stands and attempts to restrain John, but he is strong and easily pushes the officer away. He falls onto the hardwood floor. John stands nose to nose with Carrianne. His heart beat is visible from a large vein near his temple.

"She did not abandon us," his voice is almost a whisper. "You took her, and I promise you I will find her in whatever hell hole you hid her in. Then, we will come after you. We will watch every last drop of blood escape your body until you cold black heart stops beating." Caris hands snatch at his throat. Her red nails press into his neck.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" She growls.

"You'll find out when I'm dancing on your god forsaken grave." John's voice never falters. He pulls her hands from his neck. Small trickles of blood escape the thin scratches. John's glare on Carrianne ensures his promise. "Sheldon, I want them out."

"Where is my daughter, John?" The officer, who may have been distracted by the altercation, rises from the floor.

John stands and points to the hallway, "get out of my fucking house!" Sheldon attempts to grab Carrianne's arm, but she pushes him away. John's face is red with anger, but he refuses to face us – focusing all his attention on the floor. Carrianne walks towards his tense frame. In her heels she is near equal height with John. "I will find her John. I always do." She assures, loud enough for everyone to hear. The determination in her voice sends an anxious shiver down my spine. "I can find my own way out." Knowing I wouldn't be able to find my way out, I follow the officer and the angry clicks of Cari's heels. Still, Sheldon follows behind us. Eventually, we reach the open front doors.

As we enter a different SUV I look back at the large house. Shelia stands behind the tall wooden door."Look, Cari. Shelia – Shelia is with John." Carrianne's eyes look off into the distance. I can tell she is thinking about her history with John, the children he raised, his fiancé. Sometimes, when she loses her glamour, I can see a hint of the real Carrianne. She's scared. I don't know what of, but she is.