Zandra Simmons peered over the sofa, presently, her favorite hiding spot. She was thin and small, fitting into the contours of the furniture perfectly and inconspicuously.

The adults were speaking and she, whom was freshly eleven, was not invited to the conversation. Alas, Zandra was never one to be stumped by something as insignificant as an invitation.

"To be frank, I cannot continue on like this, and if I have to," her mother stuttered, sounding choked with despair,"do this, so she can live, it's a no contest. There is nothing, hear me, past or present, that I would put before her. This is what has to be done."

"Its suicide, Auntie," mumbled Zandra's cousin, Ailin. Zandra was not fond of Ailin. She was seventeen years old, but was smug and bossy. Ailin liked to pretend she was already an adult and Zandra, nothing but a petulant child.

Suicide, Zandra thought, what a silly word. It sounded like 'homicide', another word she had heard on occasion.

Laurel, Zandra's auntie, agreed.
"Gwynn, think about our family! What will Z think? This is beyond stupid! We will find another way."

Z, Zandra thought, that's me. What will I think? Think about what?

"I am thinking of our family. If there was another way, we'd do it. We wouldn't even be having this discussion. Truth is, we don't have another plan, this is the only thing we can do."

Zandra held her breath, she had never heard her mother talk like that. It was eerie and painful. Zandra felt tears well up in her eyes but didn't quite know why.

"It's reckless. It's stupid. I-" Zandra's auntie choked back a sob, much to Zandra's dismay.

"I know, sister. I know. I love you," Zandra's mom said, her voice raspy.

"Auntie," Ailin sniffled.

Everyone is crying, Zandra thought. It must be that dreaded word.

Suicide.

Suicide.

Suicide.

What could it possibly mean?

Zandra snapped out of her line of thought by the arrival of her uncle and two more of her older cousins.

"Gwynn, are you mad? I received your message. You can't possibly think we will let you do such a stupid thing!"

"Alarick, please," Zandra's mother said softly.

"No. Gwynn. No. I... I won't allow this!" Zandra's uncle said with his voice wobbling in a way that allowed fear to become a tangible, living force that crept over Zandra like a hungry beast immobilizing her; her brain, holding her captive.

She wasn't sure whether he was angry or sad but she hoped he was angry because the thought of more tears made her palms sticky with sweat and her heart race with alarm. Whatever was going on was huge, monumental, and perilous. It had to be.

"Father, it doesn't matter what you, or any of us think anymore. The Council reached their decision. They are ready for this to be over," Zandra's cousin, Chancellor said with a bossy sort of tone. It was the same tone of voice he used when he told her to stop bothering him. She balled her fists on instinct, growing angry at the thought.

"We all are," Audric, Zandra's other cousin, muttered quietly.

"It will be ok, Alarick. You, our family, and our posterity will live, what is one sacrifice? This is no way of living. I have been dead for quite awhile now. Ever since the war, Ricky. The day she threatened my family and our way of life. I just stood here and allowed all of you to protect me when it should have been the other way around, for years. She burned the capital. Millions died. I cannot let anyone else get hurt. This is my battle. Please, Ricky. Just let me go."

Zandra didn't know what to think. The war was four years ago. All she remembered was processed food and coldness. The wind had ripped through the tatters in her windbreaker and left her body icy and trembling. Zandra shuddered in memory almost instinctively.

Zandra couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. The capital was burned? And by whom? She couldn't follow the conversation. There was too much she didn't know and she itched for the information.

"What will you tell Zandra?" he asked softly.

Zandra wanted to know. More than anything, but this was her cue. She had to scamper back in bed, in case they came looking for her. Zandra hated being a kid. She hated not knowing. Anger quickly raged through her and she felt her muscles tense. Zandra flung her body against the wall and practically stomped up the flight of stairs. She forgot to care about being stealthy but fortunately her size rendered her invisible.

Now in her bedroom, Zandra didn't quite know what to do. She was frustrated and all of this seemed too big and too overwhelming for her small world. Something was happening, things were changing, and Zandra? The mere child whom had wanted no place in all the violence, found herself dead center.

Zandra sobbed, as she threw her belongings off her desk across the floor. She didn't know why she was crying, but the tears fell, nevertheless. They kept falling and falling. Her throat ached from the violent sobs that she couldn't seem to push down, despite her best efforts.

She heard the door creak.

"Z?"

Zandra's anger dissipated as quickly as it had arrived and flung herself at her mother, her small arms clinging to her mother's figure as tightly as she could muster.

"Momma?"

"Shh," her mother comforted her, rocking her as if she were a babe, once again.

"What seems to be troubling you, honey?"

Zandra tried to answer but the gut-wrenching sobs tore through her chest violently. Panic had seized her and was holding onto her heart with ferocious claws.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay. I love you so much. Never forget Momma loves you. Forever and ever."

For the moment, Zandra could feel her body relaxed into her mother's, heat slowing down, and her sniffles quieting. At least until she felt her mother sniffle ever so quietly and than came another wave.

Zandra was like a dam, her body shook with visible, violent tremors, but she managed a breathy whimper "Don't go."

Zandra's mother choked, silent tears rolling down her face, dripping from her chin as she tried to comfort her child,"It's okay, baby. I will always be right with you, no matter the distance. I promise you, okay?"

Zandra couldn't hear her mother's continued coos of comfort with the loud thumping of her pulse beating in her ears. A feeling of dread crawled from the pit of her stomach and the beast, once again, held her captive in her own body.

She didn't know what was happening to her as she lost all sense of control over the very thing she was born to control, her body.

Her vision grew disorted and she felt the strength of her legs give out, as if they had enough of her crying as well.

Her mother hoisted up her limp body and continued to murmur the promise that everything would be okay. But Zandra was not assured, what if things were not okay? What was she going to do then?

Soon, her mother's insistent promises of lights at the end of tunnels, pulled her from her mad frenzy of panic and Zandra could feel the air filling up her lungs like balloons once again.

She had once taken breathing for granted, but now viewed it as a luxury as she sucked in the air, greedily.

Her mother smiled gently, tear tracks still visible, and pushed a tendril of hair from her face,"See? It's okay. I love you."

Zandra smiled back, her face still sticky with tears,"I love you more, Mommy."

Her mother poked her nose, playfully,"No way."

Zandra giggled but was cut off with a yawn, as she nestled back into her mother's arms.

Zandra drifted off as her mother sang to her a lullaby from her infancy.

Zandra felt something cold wrap around her neck but was warmed by the kiss her mother left on her forehead.

She knew she had fallen asleep, but was aroused slightly by chill of her empty bed.

Zandra slept like a babe, with the sweetest dream of all: her mother and her picnicking in the garden, with nothing but their own company and the music of nature.

When she woke the next day, the nightmare began. Her auntie woke her from her slumber, with an expression of grief, tight lipped and bruised under eyes on her tear-stained face. Her mother was gone, lost to oblivion, in her place was a locket. Zandra supposed she had entrusted it to her, as she woke with it wrapped around her neck. Zandra did not want a stupid piece of jewelry. It was hard and cold and unyielding. Not like her mother, not a substitute for her mother's warm embraces and soft smile.

Zandra could feel her world collapsing. The world that was once small and comforting and filled with love was now large, empty, and dangerous.

She pratically sprinted up the stairs to the library, feeling the familiar clutches of panic manhandling her frail heart as bile burned her throat, but she had a burning question she could not simply ask.

Hobbling over to the large dictionary perched on top of the podium, Zandra felt a sense of dread sour her stomach. She thumbed the thin pages, hastily, nearly slicing her fingers with the pages.

She felt her heart stop beating for the longest moment in her life and drop to the pits of her stomach.

Suicide, she read, the act of killing oneself.

Suicide, Zandra thought.

She felt her heart shatter into the tiniest of shards in that moment she knew all at once her frail, cowering body wasn't strong enough to repair it.

She felt like a savage, out her body, sobbing those horrid violent tears, screaming at anyone who got close to leave her alone.

Her chest ached and air became a luxury again. She could feel the hole in her heart widen until she was sure it had disappeared from her chest, leaving her small crumbling form curled up shaking with tremors that rattled her body ferociously.

Suicide.

Suicide. Suicide. Suicide.

She sat up quickly, squeezing her eyes shut. She wanted to turn it off. Zandra didn't know how to turn it off.

She reached up for the podium to hoist her body up from the hard wooden floors. The crisp dictionary page caught her finger and the sting sharpened her senses.

Numbness washed over her and she pushed the book away in horror.

She knew that it wasn't a purposeful injury, but why did she feel guilty all the same?

Zandra knew very little about hurting oneself purposely. She remembered a boy she used to play with doing it in the nurseries so she would get in trouble and he would get bandages and ice cream.

It wasn't the same but she understood a little bit more. The numbness that washed over her felt rewarding but her mind was wracked with guilt. She had to remind her self that this injury was nothing more than a paper cut, an accident.

Even with that in mind, she yanked her coat sleeve over her hand when her cousin, Audric walked in unsuspectingly.

As she walked out of the library, allotting herself space to grieve, she smiled hesitantly at him, head down so as to not meet his eyes.

She didn't have to see them for his watchful eyes bored a hole into her back until she was out of sight.