The sunlight was blinding at first glimpse, its rays turning everything it touched into gold. Dull mahogany wood beneath our feet turned auburn while emerald blades of grass transformed into a light olive hue. I squinted, my curls blowing softly in the wind, the chill burning my cheeks as I surveyed the forest before me. Beyond our lawn, beyond Mama's makeshift garden, beyond white sheets flapping against a ragtag clothing line, lay what attracted my Dad to this house in the first place.

"It's a park in your own backyard," he had said to Mama.

Because around our property, lied pine groves so thick that one couldn't see the main road or the hidden trails within it, trees so tall that I struggled to see the apex of their trunks. Even the sun, when rising or setting fought to peek through such dense foliage. And way off into the distance, where mountains greeted the sky, trees appeared a faint blue tint just dark enough to separate the two.

Curls rested along the curve of my spine as I glanced up at the bird flying over our heads. Its cry became a repeated chorus around us while the rustle of leaves on trees swayed like a continuous wave. And I knew that if I moved closer, near the intrusive man-made wall at the edge of our land, I'd start to hear the crick not too far away.

I closed my eyes. I shut out everything for just a second. And for one small moment, I stopped worrying, stopped feeling sad, and just let myself be free.

Dad was right about one thing; this place was a blessing.

But as my eyes opened, my sight landed on the huge black P still spray-painted prominently on the side of our white house. An identical tag was also painted on Mr. Lopez's home next door. Its unwelcome reminder warned me that, like most regions within this world, living here was also a curse.

We were lucky to be distanced from the main roads, from the gangs, the looters, the cults. We were safe in our bubble, away from eyes who would see this place as a newfound sanctuary, and away from those who would see us as easy prey...

But for how long?

How long could this place survive?

How long could we pretend that everything would be alright mere miles from where things had already started to go so wrong?

"Let's play monkey in the middle," Lexie called out to Amanda, her small body already running toward the discarded red ball near the edge of the porch. I blinked away my depressing thoughts, focusing instead on my job as my brother and sisters' keeper.

Amanda, as always, followed Lexie at a much more sedate pace while Maxie brought up the rear.

"Go further out, Amanda," Lexie ordered before she let the ball fly out of her hands.

Sinking onto the top step of the porch, I knew that this game would end in its usual screams and tears, but I was too lazy to stop it. A soft smile stretched across my lips as the ball sailed well over little Maxie's head. As the youngest, he was made the monkey, his small arms struggling to catch an object that would never be his.

Poor Maxie.

I knew his pain well, only my tormentors used to be Wes and Derrick. I rolled my eyes at the memory, my mind counting down the minutes until Maxie's inevitable tantrum.

Something made me turn around. Whether it was a noise or simply the feeling of being watched, I twisted toward the kitchen window only to see the ghost of my mother looking back at us. Her brown skin still appeared ashen, worry swimming in two dark pools beneath furrowed brows. Her lips moved, her words silent, yet that expression mirrored my thoughts before she disappeared altogether.

"Maxie no!" Lexie screamed.

"Just leave it!" Amanda cried.

"Maxie!" I yelled, my eyes focused on his bright yellow coat, my feet moving as fast as my legs would allow, and yet, still he chased after that damn red ball. He followed the toy's path down the grassy slope, under the fluttering sheets, and through the bordering trees.

Chain links scraped against chained links as I gained momentum, claws dug up the grass; yet, my eyes never left the little body reaching out for that stupid little ball.

"Maxie!" I cried once more, his face turning back to me. Then finally, my arms wrapped around him. Yanking his small body back from the Doberman's snap, it incisors inches away from ripping into my little brother's face. Drool lingered from its teeth while its lean muscles strained against its silver constraints.

What the fuck—

"Satan, heel," Mr. Lansky instructed as he quickly strode down his porch steps, his boots almost silent against the wood. "Come."

The dog, like a small soldier, stopped barking. It tilted its head to the side before it trotted obediently back to our neighbor's side.

Gathering Maxie up into my arms, his weight was heavy, but I held him close. I rose quickly to my feet while secretly wishing I had the heart to kill this hellish pet. "New dog?"

My neighbor's bald spot glistened in the sun, salt and pepper colored strands waving in the wind as Mr. Lansky looked down at his protector fondly. "Its an old border. I think you and I know where your yard ends and mine begins."

I snorted, my jaw clenching at his indifference. I was never a fan of Mr. Lansky's bad attitude, but this was taking it to another level. This wasn't him calling the police on our party or reporting us to the homeowner's association. Maxie could've been injured. "We also know that kids live in this neighborhood."

He bent to retrieve the red ball before he offered it back to me. However, when I reached out to take it, his grip only tightened. "Kids or not, I will protect what's mine. And you'd do well to tell that to your friends the next time they get any ideas."

My eyes narrowed. My friends?

Up this close, I could see the number someone did to his face. A dark ring circled his eye, the surface was a range of colors from black to blue. His eyelid couldn't open completely, and where the eye should have been white now lied specks of red.

"Dude, what are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about?" he huffed. Letting the ball go as if being near me disgusted him, he ranted, "So you're going to tell me that you don't know what happened to my back window, or the food that went missing last night?"

Sliding Maxie back down to the ground, I yelled back to my siblings, "Go play on the porch!"

I waited until I was sure they were out of earshot before I continued, "Look Mr. Lansky, with all due respect, my family had nothing to do with anything stolen from your house."

His hands rested on his wide hips, the hem of his red sweater rising to reveal flabby, pasty skin. "All I know is, things like this didn't happen when we still had order in this neighborhood."

Was he serious? What happened to, 'we're all in this together'? Or was that just some asinine chant that began the moment this community became locked down?

"We've been living here for twelve years now. We don't need to take anything from you. We live in the same neighborhood. Unlike strangers, we all know you ain't got nothing."

He yanked at the chain as he began to retreat causing the dog to whimper at the sudden movement. "All I know is that people like you tend to stick together, so take this as a fucking warning. Stay off my property!"

'People like you'? Did he really just say, 'people like you'?

My fists clenched at my sides. Stay calm, Cassie.

But I couldn't move. I didn't take a step until I heard the slam of his back door. My mind, for some reason, kept going back to what Wes said, I don't see color.

And yet, how could he not see color when things like this kept happening?

Swallowing my resentment, I walked back to our porch. And while my brother and sisters played, I was happy to see that they remained blissfully ignorant to Mr. Lansky's comments. I was happy that they couldn't see the truth.

After a few deep breaths, I tried, once more, to recapture that sense of freedom, of peace, but I couldn't feel it anymore. For some unknown reason, I couldn't stop thinking about the past. I couldn't help but think about­­ the beginning of our end—

"Hey, what's going on?" I asked Natasha as I weaved around bodies to get to her side. Diminutive in height, it was her black and blue braids that stood out in the sea of heads heading in the direction of the assembly hall.

"Hell if I know. Got me out of math class though," she joked, her tongue sticking out at me as she pulled her phone from her jeans.

Upon tan walls hung inspirational quotes meant to aid us in navigating high school, yet as I gazed out at the anxious faces trying to peer forward in the direction we were being herded in, I quickly realized how ineffective they were.

Stay calm, Cassie, I silently chanted. And yet with every step, there was a pause. All around us, the crowd seemed endless. The air felt thin, and the temperature rose as I searched for an exit.

Hell, even a small reprieve from the horde would've been nice.

Staring enviously at the side exit, I almost lost my footing at the sight of a soldier within its entrance.

The military was here?

"Do you think someone threatened the school?" I asked.

"Girl, no. They wouldn't have us all exposed in the hallway like this," Natasha responded; her demeanor still calm, her eyes and fingers busy scrolling. "When is your Dad gonna get you a phone?"

Absentmindedly I responded, "when God beams down here and tells him to."

Natasha snorted, her laughter sounding rather hollow under the circumstances. Around us, several students in the crowd began to mimic Natasha's actions, the glow from small screens highlighting nervous expressions. The imprint of my Physics book felt imbedded in my chest as my gloved hands pulled it closer, my mind trying not to think the worse.

"Natasha—" I began, but that look on my cousin's face wasn't making me feel any better. She paused, braids hiding her face. And even as other students bumped into her from behind, she still didn't move. Something was off about her silence, about the tremble in her hands.

"Natasha?" I said again before I quickly maneuvered us into an empty classroom. "What happened? Are you on Eye-Opener? What did you see?"

My cousin's eyes finally met mine, those lenses reflecting my darkest fears.

What could be that bad?

Moving closer until we were side by side, with a shaky voice, Natasha turned back to her phone before commanding, "Restart."

In the video, the room appeared to be all black with one lone light hanging from above. A man, dressed in a blue button-down was tied to a chair, a black sack covering his head. I squinted, eventhough the screen remained clear, trying to see if the stains on his shirt were...

"Is that blood?"

Two other strangers entered the shot, both dressed identically in black jeans and hoodies, a red piece of fabric tied around their arms. And around the lower half of their faces were matching bandanas, a flaming eagle designed in the middle.

"President Donovan has promised us things that he could not keep," the taller man began, his voice tense, his words practiced as if he were reciting a speech. "He promised us jobs, and yet America continues to lose work. And companies who benefited from years of our labor, receive tax breaks to send our jobs overseas."

The shorter man stepped forward. "He promised us affordable healthcare, yet the price of insurance skyrockets and government assistance has been all but cut." He leaned in closer before he uttered, "I watched my daughter die because of you."

"This isn't real?" I turned back to my cousin, a weak laugh falling from my lips. "It's a stupid skit, right?" But it was a whimper that stole my attention. My eyes returned to the screen just as the taller man landed his last blow to the captive's face.

"He even offered us protection." Breathing heavily, his eyes focused solely on his hostage. "He convinced us that America's money needed to be spent on stricter immigration procedures and guards to protect our borders. He— he convinced us that America could thrive again if everyone, who didn't look like me, no longer existed."

The sack was yanked back, smothered cries infiltrating the silence as the captor insisted, "But you were wrong again, weren't you, Mr. President?"

"That's not really him. People make up crap to get famous all the time." Shaking my head, my eyes quickly moved back to Natasha's face, but still she said nothing.

"See what Americans need to do is stop listening to someone who has never been where we've been. We need to stop believing in someone who will never know what it's like to be in our shoes. You see, the rich only objective is to get richer. So today—" he paused, motioning to his shorter friend to remove the sack. "I give America, exhibit A."

The black bag came off, and beneath it lay the bruised and battered President of the United States.

"Oh my god." I shook my head, my mind still in denial, my body frozen.

These fucking idiots really did it.

"He is the problem. Those in power are the problem. And its men like us, men who aim to reclaim America and turn it back into the glorious nation that it once was, that aren't afraid to rage anarchy—"

The blade came out of nowhere. And before I could turn away, before I could close my eyes, all I saw was red.

Oh my god... there was so much red.

"Did they--" I couldn't say it. "Did they just—"

Yet sure enough, a headless body fell forward before blood-soaked men moved in closer within the frame.

"We are the Anarchists! Join the brotherhood or surrender in fear."

The video went black, its views already well past five million. Stunned, I looked up at the students still passing us, stared at the teachers standing numbly along the sidelines, peered at anything that would distract me from that scene.

His head came clean off. The blade sliced into him like a knife into butter.

Shaken, I whispered, "What the hell was that?"

"That... that was the beginning of the end."

Sorry that this is so long. I did a small edit and it made it longer.

I tried planning this chapter out so it would end where I wanted it to, but, as usual, I went off on a tangent. I kind of like the idea of seeing what happened in the past, but I keep getting further and further away from where I want to be. So, I may need to cut some things...