Roll the Dice

Chapter Twenty Six-For the Best

*Ashley Smith*

Louis's tie was the only one that matched my dress and I mentally sighed, but walked over to him. He had an annoyed expression and his eyes were cold as he glared at me. I wasn't really the type to pester people when they didn't like me as it was.

I said, "Just lend me your arm for five minutes until this is over." He barely raised it, but I grabbed hold anyway and made it look as if he was escorting me. Liam and Dakota mounted the runway, followed by Zayn and Emily, Livvie and Niall, Harry and Isabella, then Louis and I.

The crowd was going wild. People were cheering when the boys waved and some were cheering for us when we waved. But below all of the cheers were screams of hate directed at us, saying they hated a specific girl. It was never a boy though and it was then that I realized not only had we saved them in the arena, but we had prevented them from becoming murderers. They would forever live with those memories like we will, but they will never have to carry the weight on their hearts that they took multiple lives. They are still the pure boys who went in there.

Although I tried my hardest to ignore Louis's actions toward me and keep my cool, I realized just how unfair it was that I had to live with the guilt of murder, saved him, and yet he hated me. It wasn't fair that he could view me as a bad person when it wasn't my fault. I was done putting up with him. I hate you, Louis. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

*Livvie Henry*

I stepped off the runway when I reached the end and instantly walked over to Mandy. People hated me. I could hear their screams of anger and hatred while I was walking, but I ignored it. I was trying to become the old Olivia; the one who kept her emotions locked up and didn't let things affect her.

Mandy hugged me and whispered, "You did good." I pulled away and gave her a smile.

"Excuse me?" someone said from behind me. I turned and saw a man in a business suit looking at me. "All parents and family members are in the building." I instantly unlatched myself from Mandy and practically flung myself at him.

"Take me to them!" I demanded. He began to walk away and I followed him, away from the others and to my parents. We went into an elevator and I was antsy as it rose, seeming to take ten times longer than usual. I scurried out when it stopped and the man led me down to a door. He unlocked it and I slipped into the empty office.

Expecting to see my parents, I was extremely surprised when I found two pieces of paper taped to the wall. I slowly walked over to them and my hand flew up to my mouth. In each picture there was a coffin with a person in each. One was my mother, pale and unmoving. The other was my dad, looking the same way mom did. Below their pictures were words that were exactly the same.

Cause of death: Execution due to physical attacking of government officers and extreme cases of spreading threatening beliefs with follow-up actions toward the U.S. government.

They killed my parents. The news had stated uprisings in Florida and they had been caused by my parents. And now they were dead, not even being spared for me to say goodbye to. Images of Lilly's dead body resurfaced in my mind. Every scream of agony I heard became real again. I looked into each of my victims eyes once again.

Something in me snapped. I didn't cry, didn't want to. I wasn't angry, or sad, or happy. I didn't feel the guilt and the screams replaying in my head were noises fading into the background. I felt nothing. I had gone from feeling every emotion like a wave crashing on top of me to feeling like a body that was empty. I turned around walked out of the room with a blank expression.

I remember a disorder I learned in health class last year. Dissociative Disorders: a disorder used to cope with trauma that most often forms in one who is subjected to chronic, physical, sexual, or emotional abuse. I was not depressed; I was coping with emotional trauma. Most people believe that your heart can only take so much work before it gives out and you die, but they are to logical to think of the other options.

My heart is an example of the illogical options. In less than a month, I have murdered innocent girls, lost the three most important people in my life, been forced into a situation against my will, seen things I shouldn't have been made to see, felt things I shouldn't have felt. None of those were physical exertion on my heart, just emotional tolls. My heart is still beating, but it has given up. I can't keep feeling things anymore when all I feel is pain and guilt.

I would be able to be normal. I would still smile freely, have friends, and go on with life. But I wouldn't love. Wouldn't feel loss. Wouldn't experience excitement anymore. I pushed open the door to the building and stepped out into the wind, it blowing my face from my hair. I sat on the sidewalk and closed my eyes, letting the sun warm my skin. It was relaxing, being alone for once without my mind hurting me. I think this was for the best.