(Alexandra Tucker, April 6th)
"Will!" I scream, searching the dry, barren landscape for any sign of him. My throat burns from lack of water and the sun beating down on me burns my skin and scorches the sand I stand on. A harsh wind sweeps across the sand and whips the particles against my bare skin, making it sting on contact.
"Will!" I scream again, whipping my head from side to side, searching for any sign of the boy that I love. Everywhere as far as I can see is sand. Hot sand and blue sky somewhere far away where the land meets the sky; the horizon.
I don't know what makes me do it, but I start to run towards the blinding, white-hot sun. Stumbling through the sand, my feet sink deeper and deeper with each step I take, burning more and more of my body. My face would be soaked with tears by now if I weren't so dehydrated. I ignore the pain and wade through the sand that is now up to my waist. I can feel my skin blister where the burning substance comes in contact with it but I don't stop moving. I need to find him.
Just as the sand reaches chest height and continuing becomes impossible, Will appears in front of me like an angel sent down from heaven. His blonde hair is buzzed short and his uniform and face are stained with mud, which makes me wonder how he managed to find water. The deep blue of his eyes flashes with panic as he sees me.
"Alex! What the hell are you doing here?" he yells running towards me just as I sink down again and the sand covers my shoulders. He desperately tries to dig me out but fails, screaming in agony as the fiery sand leaves blisters on his arms. I am about to reply when a gunshot rings through the air, loud and clear, making me snap my head in the direction it came.
A man stands there, blood dripping from his mouth and a menacing smile on his face that reveals his blood-stained teeth. In his hands he holds a gun, the gun used to fire the shot I heard just seconds ago. This man isn't dead, he is the killer. Which begs the question; who was he shooting at?
A thud sounds from behind me just as the sand creeps up to my chin. I slowly turn around, somehow knowing what I will find when I do. Will has dropped to his knees in front of me, a pained expression on his face. Behind him lie a thousand other soldiers, each one dead and faceless. The pile of their bodies is set on fire, creating a constant wave of heat that is almost unbearable.
Screams of friends and families of the dead soldiers fill the air, but I barely hear them. All I can see is the gaping bullet wound in Will's chest, right over his heart. Blood seeps out of him, staining both his uniform and the ground in front of him deep red. Will looks down at me and smiles one last time before he falls backward into the flames along with his comrades.
The scream that escapes my lips joins the screams of the families of the fallen soldiers. I am one of them now, and Will is one of the many brave men and women who died serving our country. My cries are cut off as the sand engulfs my entirety, covering my mouth, ears, and eyes so that I am submerged in a suffocating darkness.
-
I wake up sweaty and panicked with the sheets twisted around me, something that must have happened while I thrashed in my sleep. My breathing is heavy and my hair whips my face as I desperately shake my head from side to side, trying to clear my thoughts.
He's not dead, he's not dead, I tell myself, wiping the tears from my cheeks as I try to steady my breathing. My mother and father have long since stopped coming into my room every time they hear me screaming; it happens too often. I can't blame them since they were never able to calm me down. The only person who has that capability is almost 8,000 miles away.
Not dead yet, a voice in the back of my head adds before I mentally slap her. I don't need to be thinking like that, not if I can help it. Which I can't, but it feels better to blame my subconscious mind rather than my conscious one.
"Alex?" my father's voice coos from where I can just make out his tall figure leaned against the door frame. "Are you alright? Bad dream?"
"Yeah," I answer, lying back down on the mattress and pulling the blankets up to my chin. I hear him sigh and listen to the steady rhythm of his feet on the carpet as he walks back into his room.
Like I said, my parents have long since stopped coming into my room, much less try to comfort me when I have one of my nightmares. I must have just been screaming more than usual this time.
I punch my pillow to try and mold it into a suitable shape for sleeping, but I just end up throwing it to the floor in frustration when sleep evades me for yet another hour.
Seeing as I won't be getting any more sleep tonight, I switch on the light next to my bed, illuminating the dark purple bedspread that is stretched across it. Placing my feet on the thick, carpeted floor, I stand up and walk out of my bedroom, my bare feet making sticky sounds as they connect and disconnect with the polished wood floors of the hallway.
I run a hand through my hair as I make my way down the spiraling staircase that cuts through the center of our ginormous home. My father is a very successful heart surgeon and my mother is a very gifted attorney, making us very wealthy. At least that's how my mother explains it.
I am grateful for our fortunate circumstances, but sometimes being known as the 'rich kid' gets a little irritating. With that label, people judge me just based on what I own and hardly ever on who I actually am. My brother hated our reputation, that's why he never comes home anymore. I still see him, but only if I meet him somewhere or go to his pace.
My brother Michael is 20 years old, making him two years older than me. Michael actually just had his birthday last month and dyed his hair bright pink in celebration. He's always dying his hair funky colors; I'm surprised it hasn't fallen out yet. His natural color is dirty blonde like mine, and while I am completely satisfied with it, Mike insists on torturing his hair with different hues that are never found in any part of nature.
So with that information, you'd think that he would be punk and listen to screamo music and have tattoos and piercings, but he's actually a huge softie and a really great brother when he's not out partying. He does have tattoos and piercings but they are meaningful and they suit his personality as far as I'm concerned.
All his friends are the same way, hard on the outside but soft on the inside. They do party quite a bit, though, especially since they are in the same fraternity at the college they attend, University of Southern California. My parents are often disappointed in Mike by how much he drinks and parties, but I look up to him and admire his rebellious spark that I somewhat lack. I like to think that some has rubbed off on me, but only a fraction of what Mike possesses.
Mike and I both got good grades through high school, and I continue to maintain my 4.0 GPA in my fourth and final year. I honestly can't wait to graduate. Will graduated last year and he went straight to the army. He comes home when he can, but that is not often.
Just thinking about Will sends a pang of worry through my chest. We've been dating for three years and I'm so worried about his safety. I truly love him and I don't even want to think about his life potentially being in jeopardy. I know he's doing a good thing and all, fighting for our country, but as much as I hate to admit it, I really wish he wouldn't.
It's not that I don't appreciate what he's doing, I just wish I got to see him more often. I am always worried about him and I have no idea where he even is most of the time. It gives me a stomachache just thinking about it.
I open the refrigerator door and search for something to distract me as the light bulb inside temporarily illuminates the kitchen. I end up choosing a peach yogurt and I eat it in pitch darkness so as not to wake my family. Well, just my parents because Michael is gone since it's a weekday and he's at the frat house with Luke, Ashton, Calum, Tyler, and Dex, the friends I was talking about.
I like most of Mike's friends, but I'm not too sure about Dex. The few times I've seen him, he never moves his piercing blue eyes from me. I can feel them burning holes in my skin whenever I move around him and it makes me quite uncomfortable. No one else seems to notice, but I can't seem to shake the uneasy feeling I have about him. I'm sure it's just me being paranoid, like I so often am, but I still over think it, like I so often do.
Sighing, I throw the empty yogurt cup into the gleaming stainless steel trash can before I feel my way back up the winding stairway and into the dark expanse of shadows that is my room. I plop down on the mattress, letting my hair splay out on the pillow underneath my head as I stare at the ceiling that slowly comes into focus as my eyes adjust to the darkness.
I am not even aware when my thoughts turn to dreams as I slip into an uneasy sleep.
-
"Alex, wake up."
A hand grips my shoulder and shakes it too roughly for this to be the first time they've attempted waking me this morning. I peel open my eyes to see a sideways image of my room that is straightened out once I lift myself into an upright position.
My father stands next to my bed, his almost-too-bright blue eyes meeting my green ones. He is already dressed in a crisp black suit and tie with a warm smile on his face.
"You have school today," he says simply before walking out of my room, his dress shoes clicking as they hit the wooden floors of the hallway. I groan, remembering that it is not Saturday like I thought it was, but Friday. One more day in the war-zone.
I flinch at my choice of words as a pang is sent through my chest. Instead of dwelling on it, I stand up and throw open the doors to my closet to decide on an outfit for the day. Within fifteen minutes I am dressed in a black floral skirt and a white sleeveless shirt with black thigh-high socks. I hurry down the staircase and slide into the kitchen with the slippery socks on my feet.
After eating a piece of toast with peanut butter, I climb back up the stairs to finish getting ready. I pull my hair into a neat bun and add a thin, white headband before doing my makeup.
"Alexandra, you're going to be late!" my mom yells from downstairs just as I pack everything into my backpack. I throw it over my shoulder and run down the stairs, almost slipping on the polished wooden floors and earning a look of disapproval from my poised mother who is dressed in an all-grey pantsuit.
"I have a very important meeting with a client this afternoon, so I will not be home until after nine," she says crisply, speaking to me as if I am her assistant rather than her daughter. Maybe I should just call her 'Lori' instead of 'Mom'.
'Lori' then walks out the door without another word, leaving me alone in the large building. I sigh and pull on my boots before grabbing my keys and walking outside into the warm spring air. The smell of rain and cherry blossoms fills my nostrils as I make my way down the red brick walkway and over to my car, a white BMW.
Yes, I know. A little extravagant for an 18-year-old, but I have a job that pays well enough. I work at the local pizza place with my friends Liam and Regan and have since we were all 13. Liam's mother owns the place so she let us bus tables until we were 16 and ready for real jobs.
I saved every penny I made and between that and various babysitting jobs over the years, I saved up half the money for the pre-owned car. My parents said they would match whatever I made, so here I am and here's my car.
I will, of course, have to pay them back for it over time, but I love my job so that isn't really a problem. I love my car too, just not the attention it draws, especially in high school. It only adds to my rich girl reputation, when in reality I am working hard for it.
The engine purrs to life when I twist the key in the ignition and back out of the long, perfectly paved driveway. At exactly 8:00 I arrive at school, 15 minutes before classes start.
I kill the engine and lock my car before following the sea of people up the steps and through the double doors of Beachwood High School. A number of people greet me with bright smiles, which I return even though I could name of only one of them.
"Alex!" a familiar voice finally calls and I turn around, a smile already gracing my face. I see Regan fighting her way through the crowd, her long dark hair flowing out behind her and her blue eyes alight.
"Hey, Reg," I say whilst opening my locker and shoving my books and binders inside, followed by my backpack. Regan and I have been best friends since kindergarten. Her father works with mine so we have known each other for quite some time.
"So last night Niall did the most romantic thing ever," she states dreamily as we walk down the hallway. I roll my eyes because that's what she says every time they go on a date. Niall is her boyfriend of two years and they are more in love than any other couple I've ever known. Perhaps maybe even Will and me.
"Reg!" A voice sounds, causing the both of us to turn around. Speak of the devil, Niall is pushing his way through the crowd wearing a silly grin and waving at us. Regan's face mirrors his as she waves back, walking us both to the edge of the hallway so we don't get trampled.
"Hi babe," Niall says to Regan when he reaches us. He runs a hand through his blonde hair before leaning in and pecking Regan on the cheek.
"Hey Alex," he then greets me with a light punch on the shoulder that I reciprocate to his. He opens his mouth to speak again but is cut off by the shrill ring of the warning bell.
I leave right then because I honestly don't feel like watching them 'say' goodbye. I'd say it's because I'm not a fan of PDA, but I'm really just jealous. They can do anything they want, but I can't even talk to Will seeing as he's halfway across the world. It's infuriating, but after over a year, I'm used to it.
-
I am staring at the clock, willing it to go faster when I hear a buzz come from inside my bag. Confused, I dig my phone out of the side pocket to see my mother's name flashing on the screen. Maybe she butt-dialed me; this wouldn't be the first time. Or she accidentally called me instead of a much more important client that she had a meeting with today.
"Hello?" I answer my phone, earning a look of disapproval from my AP Biology teacher, Mr. Crane. I mouth a 'sorry' and turn away, listening for a reply.
"Alexandra," my mother says. So she meant to call me. Why? She should be at work and she knows I'm in school. Why the hell is she calling me?
"You need to come home right now." Her voice is grave, immediately causing dread to course through me. What could be so important that she would pull me out of school? This is the same woman who yells at me for getting anything less than an A on any assignment, and she's proposing that I leave in the middle of class?
"What's going on?" I question.
"Just come home, now," she orders firmly and I can hear several other voices in the background.
"Are you home? Is Dad?" I ask, my voice trembling slightly. My mother's 'yes' is all I need to hang up the phone, shove everything into my backpack, and sprint out of the room, ignoring the cries of protest from Mr. Crane.
While I drive home, my mind runs over every single possibility. My grandmother is very sick, could it be that she has died? Maybe something happened to Michael. I should have asked if he was home as well, that would cross off one thing from my worry list. What if one of my parents lost their job? I don't see that happening, but who knows? Oh my god, what if someone has cancer? Or what if...oh, no, no, no, he can't be...My eyes fill with panicked tears, blurring my vision.
I blink them away just in time to see the light turn red and I slam on the brakes, lurching forward in my seat as another car speeds across the intersection. That was close. Too close. I need to calm down. Everything is probably fine, they just have some news that is important. Important doesn't necessarily mean bad.
By the time the light has turned back to green, my body has stopped shaking and my breathing has somewhat steadied.
Everything is going to be fine.
I am still repeating those words to myself when I pull up into the driveway. Both of my parents' cars are in the driveway, along with Michael's which eases at least some of my worry, while magnifying it at the same time. If Michael is here, this must be really important.
I throw open the car door and race up the walkway, only pausing in front of the dark mahogany door that is the entrance to our home. I take a deep breath to compose myself before pushing open the door and stepping inside.
The sight in front of me makes my knees go weak. My mother and father are sitting on the bottom two steps of the staircase with their heads in their hands and their bodies shaking, something I have never seen before. Michael is standing about five feet away, tears running down his cheeks while he looks at me with a pained expression.
I might still be clueless as to what the hell is going on if it weren't for the stars and stripes of our country clutched in the shaking hands of Will's mother. This can only mean one thing, and that one thing will change my life forever.
William Lee Dixon, the only man I've ever loved, is dead.