Chapter Six

The air was cool and crisp: the scent of snow and pastries wafted together engulfing Jordeyn in a feeling that she never wanted to rid herself of. She wanted nothing more than to hold onto this feeling forever - take a photo that could capture the essence of it all, put it in a shoe box, and take it out anytime she wanted to experience this again. But she couldn't. She knew she couldn't because it wasn't possible.

The fifteen year old walked down the cobblestone path passing shops where there were toys in the windows and candy stands to her side. Her mother and father weren't far from where she stood, craning her neck to find them, "honey, come here for a minute! Would you like your picture taken with St. Nick? I'd love to start the tradition once more!" Her mother exclaimed. Ever since she could remember, her mother and father had taken her to the town square to take her photo with whoever played the role of 'St. Nick.' That was, until the war began: he war where families were torn apart, the war where families received the news that their most loved family members or friends had died through a single casserole placed at their front door with a single photo of the sadly deceased, and the war where you couldn't turn around a corner without wondering if it would be your last step and breath before someone blew a bullet through your brain. It was sadness, petrification, and lost hope everywhere you stepped foot.

But Jordeyn didn't have a single care for any of it. This was her favorite part - sitting with St. Nick and telling him what she wished for most during the holidays and hopefully the upcoming year. However, she didn't want anything for herself. Ever since the beginning of the war, there was one thing she wanted most in this world, and this was her chance to ask, beg, plead, anything, to get her greatest desire, "tell me, 'little one', what would you like from I, St. Nick, this year? A doll house? Oh, dear, no. How about a pony?"

"I would first like to ask you to please not call me 'little one,' for I am not little."

"My, my … don't you have just an astounding attitude. I'll tell you this. That is what is going to get you through life: an attitude that'll make any man or woman fall to their knees before you only to later serve you for they don't want death too soon."

"My … Well, thank you for the advice. There is however one thing I would like, yes."

"And what exactly would you like, my child?"

"For my family to be whole again." That was all she desired for: for her family to be together, and for her parents to never argue again in her life. She wanted to see them happy and together, see them hug and kiss out of pure joy, and to watch them both at least stand to look each other in the eyes without wishing sudden death upon one another.

"Now, now. You know I can't do that for you. But I can tell you this. This one thing will be what will help you with whatever hardships you're dealing with. Just remember, no matter what, they'll always be with you. When you're at school, having an argument with them, or even when you're crying on the bathroom floor wishing someone had seen what you were going through sooner before it was too late. They'll always be with you, they'll always love you, and no matter what, you'll always be in their hearts and minds."

She thought about it. They have been with her even when they weren't at their strongest. They didn't have to be there for her, but they were. She wrapped her arms around the man and whispered, "thank you for everything, St. Nick. Truly."

"Jordeyn, I'm not Santa … " A deep voice: cracked and thick - spoke softly in her ear. She was startled and her head flew up, eyes wide with fear.

"Az- Azyriah?" He was bloodied. His tooth was cracked and chipped, and she could make out a severe cut under his eye on his cheekbone.

"I'm so sorry." Tears coursed down his face, carving marks into the dirt, blood, and grime coating his features.

"What are you talking about? We're in the town square. It's Christmas Eve and I was just asking Santa for-" she looked around her and saw where she was. She wasn't in the town square anymore. She was in the hospital, "Azyriah … Where are my mother and father."

"They're gone. I'm so sorry. I tried getting them out of the wreckage but-"

Jordeyn shook her head frantically, "no. They were just here. They were fine: happy, smiley, not injured in the slightest." She pleaded with dread in her eyes for what she was about to experience.

"They're gone. I swear I tried … "

Nothing made sense anymore. She could only hear the slow monotone line of the monitor attached to her parents from the hallway: no heartbeat, no blood pressure. Both dead. But they couldn't be. They were just with her, watching as she sat on St. Nick's lap smiling like the little girl she used to be.

She saw him walk in. The familiar tall, demanding figure right in front of her: Viktor.

"Would you care to explain what happened?" Azyriah was furious. Through the blood and grime, she could see his jaw clench.

"I swear to God, Az. I tried telling Castillo not to drop the bomb, but he didn't listen."

"You do realize you killed over three-hundred thousand people, right? Jordeyn's and my parents included."

"What? They can't be. I was just with them."

"You were in a bunker. It's nuclear resistant. They walked out of it just as the bomb was dropped."

Jordeyn slipped out of his grasp and ran. She ran to her mom's room and shook her - shook her like her life depended on it. Nothing happened. Her eyes were wide awake, lifeless, "please, mom, please. Don't leave me. Please. Whatever you do, just don't leave. I promise, I'll eat my broccoli and spinach without being told. Or do my homework and not argue back. Just please, whatever you do, don't leave me. I … need you." Tears streamed down her face and stained her mother's hospital gown. "please, please, please… God, why you and not me? WHY?"

"We need to go. Now." Viktor tried peeling her from her mother's corpse, but she wouldn't let the warmth and comfort of his arms tear her from the only person who was there for her when she needed someone the most. She didn't know what to do or how to handle the situation besides praying that somehow, the universe would have mercy on her and bring her parents back.

But she knew it wouldn't. Never, had anyone had mercy on her soul. The soul that was always there for others no matter what and the soul that only saw the good in everything until today. That soul was non-existent now and that soul only saw the bad in the world. No one could bring that part of her back. The part that cared for and loved people so deeply that holding their hand as they dragged her through the fires of hell would be worth it in the end. That's what she told herself when someone hurt her: it'll be worth it in the end and they'll never hurt you again after what they did. But it was never true, for people never change.

"I don't want to go, Vik … She needs me. She's still alive, I know she is. I just need to stay here a bit longer. Please. She's alive. She can't just die like this. I never got to say good-bye." Her clutch on her mother's shoulders weakened and Viktor sought the opportunity to pull her close to him, burying her head into his chest in a manner of comfort.

The arms that had done nothing but support her body against the cool stones as his hands strangled every bit of life from her body.

She woke up startled and deranged: her heart beating rapidly, sweat trickling down her temple and goosebumps kissing her porcelain skin. She tried calling someone for help, but no sound came out. Her voice was as dry as the Sahara, and Azyriah and Viktor were already sitting on the edge of their seats at the foot of her bed - the duo wide-eyed and their faces drained of blood.

"Are-" Azyriah cleared his throat, his throat thick as molasses from what Jordeyn assumed was the after-math of the tears staining the hem of his shirt -, "are you okay? We heard you screaming and didn't know what to do so we waited here until you woke up … What'd you dream about? Jordeyn shook her head and tried clearing the thoughts that wouldn't stop clashing against one another and the only response she could muster was an, "I don't know." Never, had Jordeyn forgotten a single birthday, event, or important date. She was always the one to remind the others of what was happening - not the other way around. Azyriah and Viktor exchanged glances that were filled with worry and confusion. Was this something that occurred daily? Was it something that happened rarely? What? What could have possibly happened to make her forget the one dream that scared her half to death and made her wake up frightened beyond comprehension of anything around her?

Without another word, Azyriah latched onto Viktor's arm and dragged him to the quiet isolation of the bathroom - his heart in his throat choking him silently.