It Shattered Like Glass {South}

Jay Falloway the Third

Running the race
Like a mouse in a cage
Getting nowhere but I'm trying.

I sit in a restaurant, waiting for Dahlia to show up. She isn't late. At least, I don't think she is. I don't have a watch, so I can't say. But I'm pretty sure I'm just early. I stir my coffee with my straw. It's a creamy brown color, and looks more like chocolate milk than what it really is. That's probably due to the face that I dumped a ton of sweetener and sugar in it.

I've known Dahlia almost forever. Her family is rich, and my family is rich, so it's only natural that we'd end up being friends. Of course, our mothers arranging play-dates for us couldn't have hurt, either. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that my mother still dreams about the two of us getting married and producing grandchildren for her. But that would never happen. First of all, there's no way Dolly feels that way about me. We're friends, that's it. If she announced that she was in love with me, it would be a sure sign of the apocalypse. The other, bigger reason why we would never get married is because I'm gay. Not that she knows that. No one knows. Not my mother, or my father, or any of my friends. No, I take that back. There is one person that knows. Or rather, knew.

My sister Desiree went missing a week ago. We were spending the day together because she had no classes at the college, and we hadn't seen each other for a while. We'd just been looking around in shops, trying some clothes on, but not buying anything(not because we didn't have money, we just didn't want to carry the bags around), and just talking. And then I turned around and she was gone. I looked for her, but I couldn't find her. So I went home and told my parents. They organized a grand search, but they didn't find her, either.

The reason they couldn't find her is because she's dead. She didn't just go missing. That's just the story I have to tell to keep myself alive. We were shopping. It was on our way to another shop that it happened. It was all so fast. The peacekeeper pulling us into an alley, pressing a knife to Desiree's throat. Her eyes spread wide in terror, her mouth opened in a silent scream as the knife slid across her throat, ending her life. There was so much blood. Too much. It makes me sick just thinking about it. I would have told someone, but the peacekeeper told me that if I said a word, he'd do far worse to me.

I hate myself for keeping my mouth shut. Is it selfish of me to want to live? Desiree was a better child than I could ever hope to be. She didn't deserve to die. My parents would be far less disappointed to learn of my death. I've never been quite good enough for my parents. Desiree always worked so hard to please them. She was the top of her class is school. She went to college like they wanted her to. She even had a boyfriend they approved of. My parents loved all her friends. I tried to be good enough, but I couldn't. I wasn't as good in school as Desiree. They didn't really like my friends(especially the ones that weren't rich), and they didn't exactly approve of me making a lot of my own clothes. So I just did my best to follow in Desiree's footsteps, hoping that could pacify them. Hoping they'd never expect me to surpass her.

The day she died, we stopped for lunch at a restaurant. It was one of her favorites because they have bread sticks with way too much garlic, which she loved. We were having a conversation. I didn't realize then that it would be the last time we'd have a serious conversation.

"You can be whoever you want to be, Jay," Desiree says, leaning forward across the table, her voice low. "I know Mom and Dad have all these expectations, but I don't think they'll be too heartbroken if you do what you want to."