My legs, which went through enough torture for the day start protesting around the third block. My brother is probably just as tired as I am, possibly more, maybe he stopped. I glance behind me, and sure enough he isn't there. I swiftly turn my head, positive that it's going to be like in the movies when you look to the back and suddenly he's in front of you, but I'm wrong.

My story has a twist...

He's barrelling towards me from the side.

I try to run but my legs give out and he lands on top of me with a tremendous thud. Oh, if I thought my legs would hurt in the morning, I was sorely wrong. Make that, my back is sorely... sore?

My arms swing back, trying to connect with his head, just like how Bellamy taught me. Only Bellamy taught all of my siblings. He keeps me pinned with his two hundred pound athletic self and hisses. "I'm here to help you!"

"Help me!" I shriek, "The last time you said that, you almost made me twist my morals!"

He stiffens slightly and I try to throw him off once more, but his grip is rock solid. "This is different. I came here, I renounced my title to be here with you." he says, harsh breath ruffling my hair, "I realized what they really wanted you to do..."

He's cut off abruptly by an elbow to the ribs, "Don't you dare! I'm not stupid. I hear mom and dad talking, I knew that they told you. You're their favourite child, remember?"

"Shut up." He says, and he didn't even yell... to my surprise, my next sentence shrivels up and blows away as he speaks, "They told me it was a marriage arrangement. I didn't know what they asked you to do afterwards... who exactly you were being forced to marry. They made me think that you wanted it. Then at the docks I realized that you didn't, and I occupied the guards allowing you to escape, then I followed you into the ship... why couldn't you have taken a plane? ... And I fell asleep when you got off, I ended up having to swim across that filthy sea." He shudders at the memory.

He stands and pulls me to my feet and I squint at him under the illumination of the street light. He seems truthful enough.

"I don't need you help though." I say, "I came here to start over and live an independent life where the only duty I'm obligated to is taking care of myself."

He grins, and my resolve softens. He is my favourite sibling... "Who was going to take care of me back there? With you gone I would've-"

"Eat too much in your depression, get fat, never have another girl look at you again?" I cut him off.

"Well that and I would've missed you." he says, "I've also got a house."

My eyes snap to his and his nods in affirmation.

"I brought some money with me." he says glancing at me with disapproving eyes, "As any sane person planning an escape would do."

"I didn't plan it, I just saw an opening and I ran."

"Well, luckily, you have me."

"Luck is a matter of perspective."

"Phooey!" he shouts sounding like a two year old. Any bandits in the vicinity who counted him as a threat with his muscular build would've just immediately changed their stance.

...

After hailing a cabby and driving about halfway across the city we stop outside a grand hotel. The place is obviously high end... from the spot lights flashing at the entrance, the red carpet rolled out like a traditional welcoming mat and of course the impeccably dressed people rolling in and out like non-stop traffic.

"You brought enough money to buy the hotel?" I demand in horror. My goal was to remain inconspicuous and live the rest of my life in peace. Maybe get married... hmm, there's an idea. If I'm married then they can't offer me up like a prize bull. But then I'll just have to find a suitable man... not even under these circumstances am I going to wed some undefined fool. He'll have to have brains, personality, must care about me and looks... maybe, but the others are obligatory.

"Of course I did." Says Cage, and not matter how dear and beloved a brother he is to me, I feel the explicable urge to exert some pressure on his trachea. Then he continues, saving himself, and by extension his windpipe from being as bruised as my back. "I sold my clothes and all the gold I had on me, even that silver thing dad gave me, it's not like it's much use to me now. But I didn't actually purchase the hotel... I would've been almost broke afterwards. Would you believe that this hotel costs about three quarter of the money I brought?"

How did he manage to locate that much money in such a short space of time? Dumbstruck, I nod.

Laughing, Cage grabs my hand and hauls me past the staring patrons. The attention... well in fact, any attention; good or bad, doesn't perturb him to the slightest. To be honest, I feel that way for the most part... it's just that the attention of these people somehow feels different to that of my native land.

The weather is the one thing that place has going for it, I think as we wait for the elevator to ascend to the thirty-first floor; at least I don't have to climb the stairs this time. It's so warm here. In England, specifically Italy, where we lived, the weather was always icy. And my parents, loving as they were completely disregarded the general icy feet of their children and installed and AC unit. I walked around the house in nothing less than three shirts two jackets, layers of socks and snow-pants.

Cage was a little different. He walked around half-naked... he was the only child who remained unaffected.

Our other three sisters, Florence, Karen and Holly were frozen, like me.

Florence was the second eldest and despised with one half of her being Cage; while making me feel inadequate with the next. I never had any idea how she did it so efficiently. All while continuing to look good, pursue a dozen men and control our other sisters. She's tall, taller than Cage and she has most of my features, only, somehow she manages to look better than me.

Karen, on the other hand was like another boy... minus any of the redeeming qualities that they usually possess. She's mean, has a temper bigger than the English Kingdom and doesn't care about anyone but herself. In my opinion she's worse than Florence. She doesn't even look as good. Her hair is as dry as the desert, her eyes, though blue are dull from the lack of life within them. She eats everything and she's comparable to a horse.

Then there's Holly, the betrayer. Cage has told me numerous times that I should forgive her because after all she's the baby of the family. Baby, sch-maybe, she's less than a year older than me, with her brown hair and blue eyes, slim figure, she's the only one who can compete with Cage in looks. She's the worst though. Whilst the others keep to themselves, she spent time with us. Letting us tell her secrets and then she left... just as the secrets left her lips.

I cannot fathom how Cage didn't lose it. The secrets he shared with her were far worse than any of mine. Mines were just about silly boys, as I was only twelve at the time. Cage, who was nearing eighteen, had planned to propose to his then girlfriend. Once our parents got whiff of that, they saw that the girl was shamed to such an extent that she left. There were even some rumours that she didn't love my brother back, even worse, the rumour that she was American.

Oh how I wanted to ask someone; anyone. But I knew that I couldn't ask Cage, and I wouldn't betray him by discussing it with anyone else, so I just remained in the dark...

Cage has always been that way. Forgiving and gentle. He's a living contrast. His sports and bad-boy looks make him seem tough when he isn't. In fact, he loves, adores and worships cooking and would cook anything if my parents had told him that and I quote, 'no real man cooks.' So I guess that a real man starves and dies when there isn't a woman around to cook for him. That's just sexist to men, for insinuating that it isn't manly to prepare food to stay alive and to women for assuming that they must prepare food.

Cage's looks are rumoured to be unparalleled. With his light brown-blonde hair, and blue eyes. He's probably got the best combination of genes out of us all. He's my best friend... although I had formerly removed him from the auspicious position when I thought that he had betrayed me by agreeing with my parents on the marriage issue. But, he's proven himself once more and we're back in business.

Cage and I have bonded ever since my parents insulted his cooking and I came when he wasn't looking and ate half the paste he'd made. I was six and he was twelve, but I the tastefulness of that avocado spice dip will forever linger. He's usually the one to keep me out of trouble, he's never actually followed me on my adventures... well, there was this one exception. So this one time when I was being reckless and I went into the dark parts of town at night, I was petrified but I wasn't sure which way to go. Then someone grabbed me and started walking down a dark alley.

I'd never shed as much tears as I did that night and then the man showed his face and Cage spend a whole minute lying on the filthy alley floor, cackling like a mad man.

"Will you ever do this again?" he asked once his amusement was lost.

Obviously I said no.

Presently, there's some of the same amusement in his eyes right now. Except it isn't directed at me, it's because we're free from our embroidered chains!

"We should totally throw a party." I say.

"We so should." He replies, stroking his shaved chin thoughtfully. His hair comes down to above his eye brows with a slight curl, complimenting his almost heart-shaped face, "But first we'll have to make some friends."

Smiling at the use of 'we,' I say, "You'll make enough friends for the building. Not to worry, I'll do all the work and you can be the stay at home brother."

He shrugs, "Works for me. I'll cook you anything you like. Just, we'll use the money you earn." He pauses, "But seriously, I'll start job hunting tomorrow."

"I got one already." I say proudly, "As a business partner."

His mouth drops, "Seriously?"

I nod, as the elevator dings open, reminding me of my former message alert at the office, "I'll tell you all about it, just feed me first."

...

Around midnight, I've explained my day to Cage, heard of his own and completed my fifth slice of his apple pie and drank some juice. When I say this place is fitted... there're two bedrooms, each with a queen bed, chest of draws, closet, bathroom and they even gave us toothbrushes. The kitchen has every utensil, or so says Cage. In the main-room, there are two couches, a curve TV touch and well, the lovely door that protects us from the thieves of the night.

Of course Cage has purchased us all the clothing we could ever desire plus a phone each. They're moderately expensive, not so much so that we'll get mugged...

By the time I head to bed something hits me so hard that I drag my tired body out of the fluffy heaven and over to Cage who sits in front of the TV, gazing at cricket.

"You flew halfway around the world to sit here and watch cricket? Not even football?" I demand.

He grins.

"You planned this, didn't you." I say, "You were planning to run away."

His smile fades, "No, I was prepared for it. I've got a bank account with a lot of savings here. I changed the last name to 'Periwinkle'" he sounds distasteful at the word, "And I'll add you to the account, so that you can withdraw, cool?"

I nod, "Night."

"Night Angel."

In bed I wonder what pushed him over the edge, but soon it all becomes unimportant in the wake of a good night's sleep.

...

Cage had the mental fortitude to wake me early today. If he hadn't I would've slept the day away, and probably end up being fired. He also made me breakfast and a bowl of noodles for lunch. I know that noodles in a bowl sounds boring but this isn't just noodles, this is noodles boiled in herb filled water, drizzled with cheeses, spices and the works and topped with a spoon of cream. Yum. I almost stop in the middle of Royals Corner and have a bite, but I've got a more important mission.

Now that I know that I'm secured financially, I can buy my ring from the pawn shop.

I open the door and waltz in, probably not too gracefully, since the muscles between my thigh and butt are in extreme pain during every step...

"I've come for the ring." I say, straightening my pink and white polka dot dress.

"Someone bought it this morning." He says with a shrug.

My mouth drops in outrage at the universe. "Well give me a name, I'll give them a deal they can't resist, that ring is important to me."

His formerly impassive face morphs into a scowl, "Customer anonymity!" he hisses, "That's what saved you. The person who bought it was asking round about the owner, offered me a fancy price to sell you out, but no, this store has ethics. Ye better watch out girl."

Stiffly, I turn and trudge out onto the pavement. That ring... that ring was the most important thing... I was his. The last one of his possessions. Cage wasn't the only one who had their fiancé torn away by our parents. Cage was only luck that his remained alive.

Kalvin Kung was his name. He was wealthy, and my parents loved that in a guy. He was Asian and had the prettiest auburn hair. My parents MO is to marry us off the richest guy (or in Cage's case, girl) who happened to pass out way. I hated Kalvin initially, but then after some months and a few food fights, we became closer; found that we had the same interests. Then another man, a richer man came along, and since Kalvin and I were both minors and could not get married until eighteen, my parents dissolved our engagement.

He was enraged, especially when he found out who I was actually being married to. He promised them that he would never allow it to happen. A week later, when I was reading the paper, I saw a report that shattered my teen heart: Kalvin Kung fell overboard on his return journey to Asia. Of course there was an investigation, and his body was never found... there was no way to prove any guilt. Except that Kalvin hated ships, he got sea sick and always travels by aeroplane. The police, didn't seem to take that as valid evidence.

All this was three years ago... and selfishly; I think his death is a good thing. Because I know that I would've never been able to do what my parents wanted me to once I'd wed him... and as a result Cage's life would've been in jeopardy.

Thoroughly defeated I walk into the office, barely noticing the pain in my legs up the fifty flights. Is it worth it to try to find this mystery buyer... if he's looking for me he could be a soldier or worse... but no, he'd never come here... would he? I'll just talk it over with Cage later.

Focus.

I have a job to do and I need to be one hundred percent.

My chair catches me with ease and I kick the on button with my toe. In seconds it boots and I see that there's already a missive waiting for me. The trumpets flare and I open the message.

Mr Moray,

We are leaving. Immediately.

Garrison.

Leaving? We? What?

Just then there's a hissing sound as my door pops open. A man, possibly a few years older than me, in a plain black suit with cufflinks inscribed with the North American Kingdom's coat of arms taps his foot impatiently within the doorway of my office. His face is set into a neutral expression but he miraculously manages to make it appear as though he's got enough stress to set off a fault line.

I wonder who he is and why he's standing there. Shit... I wasn't supposed to be seen. His eyes lock onto mine and his foot halts, mid-tap.

He must be Ms Garrison's chauffer or something, probably to take us to this mysterious place.

"Mr Moray hired me as his replacement." I say, "He said to try not to be noticed... but since it's Ms Garrison's policy I doubt she'll mind."

His face registers momentary shock before it reverts to being a blank canvas.

"Ms Garrison." He says.

Then it hits me, "Is she married? I had no idea."

"She wishes to see you before your departure." He says in a voice that seems amused, though his face betrays nothing of the sort.

He takes me down the grey, carpeted hall and to the door marked 'Garrison.' He throws it open and strolls inside. He must be close to Ms Garrison if he can just... waltz into her office and sit on her chair?! Because that's exactly what he's doing. He gestures for me to sit in the small metal chair across from his form; lounging in his boss's chair with his feet resting on the table and his fingers laced together.

As I sit, my line of sight is lowered and falls upon the plaque:

Mr Garrison.