The next week.....

“Ok Nahlia, you can do this.”

Some distance away, my single-story house plants itself like itself like an old memory. Windows, stretching from the ground to the roof, expose themselves to the weather. Fingerprints left from polluted rain speckle their surfaces, while above the white stucco, a lonely umbrella table shakes violently in the wind. The holograms were off today.

I missed my hold home and the nights that turned into day on top of my orange, wooden, roof porch. Most of all, I missed my old belongings and posters. Ever since I went to the sky platform, I was never as comfortable. Not all of them were friendly. It was hard going out with Tayt just to gain some acceptance. I needed to escape the harassment of the sky dwellers as infrequent as it was. I stare at my old house and reminisce. There was stuff to grab that I wanted to take sky-side. It would make it feel more like home.

No one was home and a key is pulled from my side as I approach the front door. I didn’t care if Tayt was against me going back to my uncle’s. I needed to feel the touch of my own world, and the privacy I had lost among the clouds in the sky.

“Uncle's not here. That's good.”

The front door opens and the familiar rush of air-conditioning greets my skin and nose. I rush past everything, being sure to lock the door and leave no sign of me being home. After running through my kitchen, I enter my room with surprise. It wasn’t in a mess like I had left it. Immediately, I walk back to the front door, making double sure my uncle’s dune buggy wasn’t parked in the driveway. After, I chew on the inside of my lips and return to my bedroom.

My closet door folds open and I throw Tayt’s bag on the carpet next to mine. The fuzzy thickness of my carpeting tickles the sides of my feet and I take off my sandals. I sort through clothing and boxes, putting all I can in the bags with no specific order or plan in mind. Twice, I tug at the buckled holster wrapping around my leg and waist, making sure that Tayt’s handgun was ready at a moment’s notice. A line of sweat coats my leg from under my holster straps, giving me added reassurance that it really was there.

Several photos of me as a little girl are shoved into the front pouch of the bag. I place each of them carefully, hoping none of them would bend against his random junk that I forgot to empty out. I stop at a certain photo of mine. As a child, I remembered vaguely my mother and father, but everything hazed into their unexpected death and my uncle. From then on, I was a background girl, going along with everyone to fit in. Those were my quieter days. There was always an off-ness about me then, and associating with sea dwellers and those from the sky made me even more of a freak. However, my acquaintances from the ground used to keep me in line. They dressed me up in the norms of FauX. It helped me be less insecure.

Books and different styles of shark’s teeth-bands find themselves stashed away behind the sound of zippers and buckles. When I can’t cram anything more inside my luggage, I turn to my bed. My plush pillow is grabbed and I strap it to the outside of my bag.

“Stupid latch. Ummph. There”

However, I stop in relapse for a minute. I gaze at the sliding windows on the far side of my room wishing to go out onto the beach one last time. The glass windows appeared lonely as if they knew this would be the last time the girl who grew up beneath their nurturing watch would see them. The temptation eats at me and I make my way over, even if to look through the glass and press my face against its cool surface like I used to. My purple eyes peer out over the beach, knowing any tracks in the sand would only add fire to my uncle’s abusive nature. He truly believed I would return home one day, and the longer I was away, the more apt he was of coming after me. If he found out I had returned while he was gone that would be the end of me. I find my remote. The touch of holographic glass presses into my palms near my sliding doors. I take a look up. The outside wind shakes the dormant hologram projectors above my distant gaze.

I jingle my keys. The door slides open. I step outside with a smile.

The beach infuses itself across my two purple eyes. The white crash of the everlasting waves lingers beyond the shoreline, leaving a darkened tan line on the closest of sands. After watching the palm trees shake the wind from their fronds, I turn around and touch my reflection. I nearly trip on my old sandals and boots that I left on the outside of the sliding doors. I laugh with joy, paying no attention to my uncle in the doorway of my room. Suddenly, I turn. Fear steals my peace. My uncle was in front of me! The sweat rises in my body.

My uncle gives an irritable smile. He locks eyes with me and relishes in the fact that I couldn’t keep my eye contact. He bangs on the door panes to scare me and digs his fingernails into my wrist. He pulls me inside and takes a few steps back. He was calm, which wasn't normal. I didn't know what to think.

“So, where have you been?,” nods my uncle with wry expression. He takes a step further toward my stuff, very aware that I was ready to make an escape through the sliding doors. He looks down at the handgun by my side and shoves his hands in his pockets with another irritating gesture. I had completely forgotten about my gun, until now!

My heartbeat fills my entire being. It pounds at my eardrums and makes my movements jerky and unexpected. I didn’t know what to say or anything. I wasn't even sure I had the nerve to pull Tayt's gun and shoot.

“Are you going to answer me? You disfigured ingrate.”

I shake my head, but not as a response. I just didn’t know what to do.

“C’mon beautiful. Unclip your gun and toss it to me. We can settle this like normal people.”

My uncle extends his hand out with a wry smile. He waits, mere seconds, which pass endlessly with fright in me. Finally, his patience cuts short and his eyes fill with destructive hate.

I make a reach for my gun. However, it catches on the holster strap and I shout in panic. My uncle makes his move. He rushes in on me, smashing my back against the glass window. I struggle with him, until two swift punches force me to let go of my handgun. My eyes tear with fright and I feel warmth run down my face like bloody rivers from my nose. My uncle keeps me pinned to the ground, clenching his teeth, as if he waited months for his moment. Immediately, he grabs my neck, smearing blood from around my lips with his thumb. He throws the gun behind him and lets his domination soak into my eyes.

“Can’t run away now can you? Worthless slut of a niece!”

I don’t answer. I feel my uncle’s hands force my eyes into his. The colors drain around my eyes, like everything was turning black and gray around me. Time freezes. A steamy breath leaves my uncle’s mouth.

“You scared little bitch….”

I push against my uncle and he laughs at my lame attempt. He was the stronger one and never before had he felt so good about himself. He leans in close as if to exert his position.

“I’m going to beat your ugly face so bad you’ll be begging to stay here. Begging, you piece of shit!”

I struggle once more against my uncle in vain. My will to live was caught up in giving up. I was positive I was going to black out or die. Suddenly, a burst of strength moves through my body and I make a a last ditch effort to escape. I move my head, biting my uncle’s wrist and causing him to release his grip. He lets out a yell and I strike the inside of his elbow forcing him to catch himself and redistribute his weight. With quick reflex and luck, I manage to shove him away and get to my feet. I kick him in the eyes, causing him to recoil pain but he recovers quickly. Still, I had just enough time to open the sliding door of my bedroom.

I step outside again.

The touch of cool sand reinvigorates me with hope. I slide the door closed, leaning my entire body weight into it. My uncle tries to open it, but without success. I pull my keys and manage to lock the doors from the outside. The sound of the closing latch overwhelms me with relief, as my uncle slams the glass. For a minute, we stare at each other. I never saw my uncle filled with so much abusive hate. He didn’t even budge. He wasn't even breathing.

“I hate you!” I shout at him.

I start to laugh at my uncle, but not from mockery. I was so scared all I could do was laugh like a maniac with tears dripping off my cheeks. I watch my uncle jerk at the door a few times, before heading to the other side of my room to get the handgun. A paralyzing fear strangles me with surrealism. All I could do was stand and watch. I had made it outside on the beach and my fight was in vain. I was going to die or be shot. I wished I knew what to do.