Ghost Bird | ✔

Fourteen

Thank you all for sticking with me! Only a few more days!

Owen

I adjust the maroon tie I am wearing as I finish getting ready. Next, I neatly fold and press each item into my suitcase so that everything fits perfectly inside the gray case. Once everything is put away properly, I take my keys from off the top of the dresser and stride to my dark grey BMW.

Popping the trunk, I tuck my suitcase in the corner, knowing that Sean has several bags to cram in the trunk before we could leave. I slip into the driver's seat, my movements fluid and precise.

Many people believe that I am perfect. That I strive to be perfect. That is only somewhat true. I strive to be precise. Precision saves people from being sloppy. Being sloppy leads to mistakes. And I cannot afford to make mistakes.

I rub the scar on the back of my hand, clearing my face of any emotion as my thoughts involuntarily drift toward my mother. Rose, when she was alive, was perfect. The kind of person I want to be, except it just came naturally to her. My mother never had to try to be perfect, she simply was perfect, even though she occasionally made mistakes. Even her mistakes were perfectly made. Like a perfectly lopsided cake for my birthday. A perfect painting, even if it was never completed. A perfect manicure, though the nails of her thumbs were always chipped from working and using her hands.

"Well, hello, Owen," Sean booms, startling me from my thoughts. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Sean, I see you every day," I flatly remind my oldest friend before adding, "And sometimes at night."

"You dream of me?" Sean gasps with exaggerated shock.

"No, I have nightmares of you," I correct blankly.

Sean collapses into the car clutching his chest, pretending to be wounded.

"Close the door and buckle up," I command, starting the car.

Sean huffs, "Fine. Just completely ignore the fact that I'm dyin' over here."

"Will do, Sean."

As I am driving, a quick chime comes from my phone.

"Sean, tell me who just sent me that text," I direct, not taking my eyes off the road.

"Victor," Sean answers, used to looking at my phone for me while I am driving. "He says that WarriorInLight responded."

"Ask him what he said," I tell him.

"Oh, he already sent that," Sean responds, looking at the screen.

"Well, go on then," I say, getting frustrated.

"He says that the only word was 'blobfish,'" Sean informs me.

I blink, make sure my emotions are concealed, and decide, "Have Mr.Morgan respond according to code. If this is another Academy member, they may have important information for us. Maybe we will be able to find Ghost Bird faster."

Or at all, I add in my head. With each day, I am losing hope that we will not be able to find Bird. We all are. As the leaders, Kota and I are being careful not to lose hope in front of our brothers, though.

As desperate as I am to find Ghost, I cannot help but feel that this is a lost cause.

Maybe, just maybe, this "WarriorInLight" will be able to help us find her. Or maybe this is a ploy and we are just another pawn in this game.

***

Sang

A ring splits through the air, causing me to freeze and drop the spray bottle of bleach and water.

"I'm sorry!" I blurt on instinct as I frantically mop up the mess that spilled out of the bottle when it hit the floor.

As quickly as possible, I dry up the water and put away the cleaning supplies for the time being. I race up the stairs to go see what the noise was and what kind of trouble I am in.

"No, your daughter is still alive," Mother hisses quietly. "Shut up! I am not a monster! You are the monster, leaving us like this!"

I back up slowly, keeping my steps absolutely silent. I move as far away as possible while still being able to hear her. This is very unusual. Mother is talking on the phone. The phone that has not been used in years. Or has it? But how would I have missed Mother talking on the phone? I am a light sleeper and would be woken up by the sound of the phone or I would have heard it like I did just now? And who is she talking to?

I think... I think she was talking to my father.

But that makes no sense at all. Father has been dead for a long time. And why would he only call now? Father loved me, and I loved Father. He was, after all, the fourth person in my small world. His death was... devastating.

He was the king of my chess board that is life. Although he rarely moved close to me, he was always in control. Father controlled everything about my life. And it seems that he might still be controlling my life.

I leave as Mother's whispers come to a halt. I can't tell if she is listening, or if she suspects that I am there, but I don't want to find out the hard way.

Slinking downstairs, I return to my cleaning, trying to keep my mind off of the phone call.

I don't know much anymore.

What I do know is that I will not be the loser in this game of chess.