It was a beautiful day. A brilliant yellow sun rose in a cloudless sky of endless blue. Dry heat baked the air at a comfortable temperature. The scattered chirping of birds as they flitted from trees and power lines interspersed the near constant rumbling of vehicles. Folks either walked or drove to their various destinations, most intent on running a few errands during the relative lull of noon time.

This complete pause was felt by establishments of all sizes, even a little convenience store on a square plot of asphalt at the corner of a relatively empty street. A single aged car parked between a pair of white lines. Inside, a short old woman purchased some miscellaneous items; a pack of cigarettes, a magazine, a loaf of bread, and a few other unrelated goods.

Behind the cash register Jacqueline dutifully rang up the materials, tallying them one by one with a hand scanner. Each scan was denoted by an overly loud beep. She flipped over the bread one by one in search of the bar code before giving it a proper ring. The store sold a few different brands, and of course none of them could agree one where to put the relevant information. Jacqueline could never keep them straight.

All the while, the old lady stood on the other side of the service counter, waiting none too patiently for her transaction to complete. The expression she gave was tight and unimpressed, as though under the assumption she could do a better job. Her gnarled hands shook with Parkinson's as she reached into her giant brown leather purse to extract a thin green checkbook, receipts poking out of its cover. Internally, Jacqueline groaned. Checks were an absolute pain in the ass to tender.

The blonde finished ringing up the few items and hastily placed them all in a duo of clear plastic bags. She placed them in front of her customer, as was her habit, and recited the total. The old lady nodded. At a snail's pace, she began writing on the check. Thankfully, she'd had the foresight to sign the slip beforehand, so the only required step at this point was to jot down the total. When finished, Jackie received the check, ran it through the validator, and placed it in the cash register.

"Okay, you're all set," Jackie said with a smile. "Have a good day."

The old lady said nothing in response as she gathered the two bags in her arms. Carrying them in complete ignorance of their convenient handles, she exited through the automatic doors.

The moment the customer left, Jackie's smile faded. She considered herself a mostly patient person, but rude customers like that got on her nerves. With all the negativity in the world, there was no excuse for needlessly adding more to it. Perhaps that made her an idealist, but it was a dream she fully believed in. Be the change you want to see, and all that.

At the moment, however, the only change Jackie really cared about was a alteration of scenery. The warm breeze which blew in from outside reminded her just how nice of a day it was. She yearned to be out in the world, hanging out with her friends or just basking in the sun. Although, that last one may not have been the best idea. She tended to burn instead of tan.

She looked around the store in search for something to occupy her mind. This time of day—after lunch and the early bird rush—always dragged on. It was easily the worst part of any shift. At least the properties of part-time meant she only had an hour left. As always, it would feel much longer than the previous four combined.

The store was a tiny little hole in the wall. A few aisle displays made lanes in the middle of the floor. The walls were also lined in several rows of shelves. Not an inch was left empty. Everywhere the eye could see, except for the entrance, had something to buy. This facing of product was the direct result of Jackie's desperation to stay busy.

The store was immaculate. Jackie had already straightened the shelves about six times that day, and the old lady hadn't noticeably disturbed anything. The displays were not in need of cleaning, the floors had been waxed just recently. Indeed, everything ran quite smoothly, but that was exactly the issue. No mess to clean up or shelf to fix meant there was nothing to do.

A buzz went off in her pocket, little more than a brief vibration against her thigh. So zoned out was she, it took her a couple seconds to realize this disturbance was her cellphone. Jacqueline shook the cobwebs from her cranium. With a sly squint, she peered around the interior, just to be extra sure it was empty. When a positive conclusion had been drawn, she extracted the device.

As if someone had flipped a switch in her mind, Jackie's expression instantly brightened. She had received a text message from her beloved sister. As there was no one in the store, and no cars in the parking lot, she thought nothing of answering. It would take only a few seconds. She would never be caught. With an upward flick, she opened up the message.

"Hey," it read. "So... I know I asked you last night, but I already forgot. Are you working at nine or one today?"

"Nine," Jackie wrote in reply. "I'll be home when you get there." She proofread her text, just to make sure autocorrect didn't mess anything up. For a finishing touch, she added a smiley face emoticon before tapping send. After that, she attempted to return the phone, but the second she did, it vibrated again. With a shake of her head, Jackie took it out.

"Cool," was Ayda's one word response.

"See you then," Jackie wrote just as recognition she received the text. Hopefully that would be the end of it. Jacqueline enjoyed messaging her sister, but not at work. It would get her in trouble. This point was proven when the door behind her opened.

"Should you be texting right now?" Said her manager in an authoritative tone.

"No, sorry." Jacqueline hastily pocketed her phone.

"It's alright, I know it's a slow day." The middle-aged woman stopped at Jackie's left. "Just don't let it happen again."

"It won't," promised Jackie, knowing full well she'd probably lapse within a day.

The manager was a middle-aged woman, wider than she was tall. Her boyishly styled haircut had obviously been dyed it's dark color, betrayed by encroaching gray at the roots. She'd supposedly been working at this little store for fifteen years, but part of Jacqueline refused to believe it. She wouldn't wish such a terrible fate on anyone.

"Mark should be done with his break in a few minutes," the manager changed the subject. "Then it won't be just you in here. Not that it matters," she added.

"Well, you know what they say, 'misery loves company.'" Jacqueline did her best to make a joke. Admittedly, it wasn't funny, so she felt no shame when her manager forgot to laugh.

"If you're bored, you could—" The manager began to offer a suggestion, but would never get the chance to finish her sentence.

Three men burst through the doors. They moved quickly with a sinister purpose. The men wore nondescript street clothes, but any semblance of innocence they may have had ended there. Each one hid their face with a cheap Halloween mask, the kind available at any dollar store. The first one to enter was unarmed, presumably so he could open the door. The second hefted an aluminum baseball bat, slightly dented in the middle where also stuck the remnants of a dark stain. Even though he was the shortest of the bunch, the third commanded the most authority. He brandished a sleek black handgun.

"Hands up, both of you!" commanded the gunman, pointing his weapon in turn at each employee before resting on Jacqueline. "This is a robbery!"

Both women complied instantly. Jackie's heart beat out of her chest. The blonde breathed as if she'd just run a mile, quick and uncontrolled bursts through her nose. Unconsciously, she backed up until she ran into the wall behind her. Anything to put as much distance between herself and the gun. She winced in surprise at the sudden pressure on her shoulder blades. Any other movement escaped her. She was absolutely paralyzed with fear.

The manager, though, displayed none of the same hesitation. As soon as the men had entered, she'd done her best to avoid looking at the gunman. Instead, the middle-aged woman inspected the west wall. Slowly, she inched toward the counter. It was almost within her reach to begin with. If she could just move a few inches without anyone noticing. Occasionally, she would spare the aggressors a quick glance, just to make sure they hadn't caught on. A woman her size, though, could never be surreptitious in motion.

"Hey, hey, hey!" The gunman screamed, training his muzzle on her. "If you sound the alarm I will shoot you, understood?"

The manager stood bolt upright and nodded frantically. So much for that heroic rescue. At this point, the reality sunk in. No one would come to save them. At this time of day, no new customers would pull up. The captives had no way of contacting the police, and no way to escape. These men hoarded all the power, and nothing could be done about it.

"Take her to the back," the gunman ordered of his cronies. "Restrain anyone else you find back there."

"Are you sure you can handle this?" The man with the bat said.

"I have the gun, I'm fine."

The bat wielder shrugged. He gestured for the remaining burglar to follow him. Together, they made way behind the service counter. The unarmed man forcibly turned the manager around. None too gently, he pulled her arms down behind her back, just like cops do before handcuffing a suspect. Without any sort of restraint, though, he simply followed his cohort behind the door. It swung closed.

Jacqueline's heart sank through her foot. It was just her and the robber; alone with an armed, dangerous, and clearly unstable man. She looked at the door, praying for the manager to return, or even one of the other thieves. Any sort company would make her feel more safe, as ridiculous as that seemed.

"Hey," the gunman shouted.

He rattled his gun. Jacqueline whipped her head around to look at him, eyes quadruple their normal circumference. The man produced a plastic shopping bag from his gray hoodie's pocket. He gave it a flick to fluff it out and held it at arm's length.

"Open the register, put all the money in this bag," he ordered, sounding somewhat calm for the first time.

Jacquelin did not move. Her mind knew what to do. The training manual said, in a robbery situation, just do what you're told and don't be a hero. She wanted to, but her body wouldn't obey. Innumerable other thoughts clouded her mind. It was impossible for any singular notion to preside for long.

"Now!" Screamed the gunman, once again shaking his weapon.

It wasn't his volume which spurred Jackie to action, but instead the movement of the gun. Jacqueline would do anything to avoid it's wrath. She walked forward and attempted to take the bag, but the criminal yanked it away from her.

"No, just fill it," he ordered quickly. He replaced it back to where it had just been.

Jackie paused before opening the register. She began with the largest bills in fear that anything else would get her threatened or worse. The store hadn't seen much business, so there weren't many big denominations to give over, a solitary hundred and two fifties. From there it was the smaller amounts, most of which had been put into the machine that morning for the purpose of making change.

"Come on, faster," the gunman commanded.

Jacqueline did her best to speed up, but she'd already been going as fast as she could. Fear muddied her motor skills. She fumbled a bill. It fell atop the drawer. She picked it up and hastily put it in the bag. Had this been the kind of register with a removable till, she would have just dumped it all in one go. That would certainly be more efficient.

The gunman grew more and more visibly impatient as Jackie moved on the the coins. At this point, she gathered with a feverish intensity, dumping both loose mintage and solid rolls into the bag as quickly as possible. She finished this portion much more swiftly.

"There, that's all of it," the blonde blurted out before taking a big step back.

The thief, ever thorough, checked the till. Keeping the gun trained on his hostage, he leaned over the counter just to confirm the machine really was barren. His gaze remained there for a second. Having found the confirmation he sought, the gunman raised his head quickly to make sure his captive was not out of sight for too long.

It happened in the blink of an eye. His pale blue ghoul mask caught on the corner of the customers' price readout as he rose. The lackluster elastic snapped. In a way almost comically unceremonious, the mask floated down onto the counter. Bare olive skin greeted the world. Both he and Jackie looked on with mortified expressions as it lay there. Surprise immediately turned to rage and horror. The gunman looked up and covered himself with his free hand. The other hand flourished his weapon.

"You saw my face!" He accused. A step closer to the counter.

"No, I didn't I swear!" Jacqueline shouted back, frantically waving her arms.

"You saw my face!"

"No, you were looking at the register!" Tears flowed down Jacqueline's face. "Please. Please, don't hurt me."

"You'll tell the cops," insisted the thief. "You'll give me up."

"I won't, please! I swear I won't tell anyone!"

The gunman widened his stance and raised his weapon.

"No!"

A gunshot.

…

…

…

A wooden casket. Its dark stain caught a bright reflection from a dazzling midday sun. Polished fixtures gleamed in the light, shining with hues of yellow and silver. Out of respect for the deceased it had been left sealed. Truly, it was tomb fit for a princess.

A solemn hymn played in the background, softly sang by an older woman with a voice pure as snow. It mused on the sadness of loss, both that of youthful innocence and of loved ones. There was not an absence of hope, however. The song wondered if the circle would be unbroken, and if a better home awaited in the sky. Like all good hymns, it never answered either question.

The coffin lay atop a granite table draped in white. Vases of red roses flanked it on either side, while loose flowers collected at its base. Even more buds ringed the table itself on the green grass below. The display had been professionally arranged, designed to be simple and clean, yet elegant. In one way or another it drew focus to a large picture in a golden frame; an image of a smiling young woman with blonde hair and impossibly green eyes.

A field of tombstones stretched on behind the casket, each one unique but no less important. They marked a memory, the final resting place of a dearly departed. To think every person left behind a degree of unfinished business brought hope to some, yet despair to many others. The field made for a somber backdrop, a stark reminder of the dead and forgotten. One day all would end and be forgotten, the only remnants a collection of carved rocks without meaning.

Before the headstones, in an area clear of them, many people had gathered. They stood in a semicircle to create an uneven sea of black and white, friends and family of the deceased summoned together to pay their respects. A wide channel ran through the center to permit traversal. Nary a dry eye could be found, so darling was the blonde girl featured in the photo. Well loved and respected, her passing moved many hearts and composed many tears.

In the front row stood the Belmont family, an older man and woman along with their adopted daughter. Emma Belmont clung to her husband, sobbing openly into his shoulder. While Bernard maintained a stony face, it could not stop tears from flowing down his cheeks. Next to him perched Ayda. Standing bolt upright with shoulders hunched just slightly, her expression remained blank. Not an ounce of wetness stained her face. Indeed, instead of grief, the only emotion she displayed was shock.

This was the end of the ceremony. A sermon had been said, a moment of silence had, and memorials given. Now, all which remained was to lay the girl to rest. A procession of six men rose from the crowd. Bernard was the first to reach the casket. Together, they lifted it upon their shoulders.

The trip to the appropriate headstone was short. The crowd which accompanied them at this point was rather small, limited to family only. Ayda walked among the people, a sullen look on her face as she stared at the ground. Her eyes didn't really see. Her ears heard nothing. Existence was but a dream. The world carried on, yet she was numb to it.

When all had reached their shared destination, the pallbearers placed the coffin down upon the lowering mechanism. Its straps strained under the weight. Slowly, the gears turned. The casket lowered into the rectangular hole. As it fell, the inscription on the tombstone rose to view.

Jacqueline Marie Belmont

Daughter, dreamer, sister.

Though her light is gone, may her love remain forever.

1995-2014

This was her final resting place, her last mark on the planet. It would serve as a permanent reminder of someone who used to be, of all the light she gave to everyone who crossed her path. Jacqueline Belmont may have left the world, but in her wake was a story of love and peace. It was a better place for having had her.

It hurt too much to stay. With a long exhale from her nose, Ayda left the scene. No one attempted to stop her, yet both Emma and Bernard watched her go with sad eyes. Part of Ayda wanted to stay, to be with her for just a little while, but it would not come to pass. Ayda could bear the sight of it no longer. It hurt too much to stay. The sound of a motorcycle riding away perforated the quiet moment.

When Ayda made it home, she went straight up to her room. The girl had no appetite for food nor company. She wanted to be alone for the day, maybe forever. Only time would tell. Besides, the atmosphere in the house was currently perfect for introspection. It was quiet. So quiet.

Ayda opened up the door she didn't remember closing and crossed the threshold. Strange, everything was exactly as she remembered. The bed, the shelf, her television, everything remained in its proper place. So, then, why did it feel so different? She stopped in her tracks to contemplate, but soon shook her head. The bed looked more inviting than anything she'd ever seen. To that end, she began to walk.

As she passed by the dresser, Ayda stopped in her tracks. Something caught in the corner of her eye brought all other functions to a complete standstill. Slowly, Ayda turned to inspect the source of the disturbance. Timid hands reached out to grab it.

A photograph, a memory emblazoned upon paper to commemorate a time passed. In it Ayda saw herself, smiling with a gentle curve of her lips, a peace sign held next to her head. She remembered this photo. It was her first official day of school.

Ayda's breath caught. Her heart skipped a beat. Clinging to Ayda in the photograph was an exuberant blonde, mimicking her pose with much more enthusiasm. Jackie. She was so happy, so proud of her little sister, but now that pride meant nothing. Life had burned so passionately in her soul but now... the only remnants were ashes

In an instant, everything slammed home. She was gone. Jackie was really gone. The woman who'd sworn to protect her, the first person in so many years to ever show her true kindness, was no more. Her sweet laugh, that endless happiness, the way she twirled her hair whenever she was confused, Ayda would never witness any of them again. Jackie was gone.

Ayda fell to her knees. Her breaths came in uncontrollable spasms and hiccups. Tears freely flowed from her closed eyes, staining the glass in the black picture frame. She pressed it to her chest, clutching it as tightly as her body would allow. Ayda bent forward. Her forehead almost touched the floorboards. Doubled over and crying, the intensity of her sobs caused her chest to ache. Today was the last time she would ever see the one person she loved more than anyone or anything else in the entire world. It was the last time she would ever see her sister.