Love Is a Game of Secrets

Everyone has three lives: a public life, a private life, and a secret life.

She’s lived in the same little city since she was born, hates the crazy summers, and has known most of the people since she was in diapers. Doesn’t really sound too bad, does it? But when everyone you knew all gave up the reality for sex, drugs, and superficial attitudes, it isn’t that much of a party anymore. She’s desperate to leave, whatever means necessary.
They say one should never take what they have for granted, that there is always, always, always something to be thankful for, and especially to be careful with what you wish for.

Her sister and dad were out to her brother’s soccer game, always early Saturday mornings. Her and her family lived in a house was up in the hills, known as the rich and quiet part of the city. She only liked that it was far away from everything she’s seen her whole life. She was indifferent about it.

She was outside in the early morning, early August means only one thing: HOT. She was outside in jean shorts and a string bikini top on the hammock in the shade. Four weeks away from school meant one thing for today; school shopping. She stuffed her earphones in her ears, shutting her eyes. Nothing ever happens in the quiet area she lives, and whether
that was a good thing or a bad one, she didn’t know.

Something made a loud crash inside, but knowing her mom is just as much as a klutz as she is, she didn’t overreact to it, “Hey mom, you okay?”

But she didn’t hear anything back. Maybe she’s just upstairs and didn’t hear her? She lay back down in her original position. She’s okay, right?

In the time that another song passed by, she couldn’t fight the feeling that something was wrong in the picture. She walked inside, finding the glass coffee table on the floor close to destroyed and the front doors nearly falling off their hinges. With the sudden panic, she took out her earphones, listening to anything. In another hand, she grabbed a kitchen knife from a drawer.

Something, or more like someone, pulled her hand back, making her fingers let go of her iPod. She could feel her heart shatter as she saw it hit the ground and watched the screen cracked as a stranger foot stepped on it. No one touches her baby. She turned back, leading with the knife in her hand. She heard a sound that couldn’t be confused as it entered the man’s leg, not to mention the whine of pain that came after.

“Who the hell are you!” He was in a black tuxedo and a black ski mask, talk about original.
She saw him try to get up; without turning around, she headed back to the counter, grabbing another knife. This one was her favorite, the sharpest one with meat cutting edges.

“Why don’t you put that knife down before you hurt yourself, darling?” The deep voice almost made her jump.

She turned around quickly at the voice coming from the entrance of the house. There was another man, dressed in a solid white suit, dirty blonde locks dressed in a five hundred dollar haircut.

“Who the hell do you think you are to be telling me what to do?” Her once so warm chocolate eyes turned a cold black.

He smiled, his hands still stuffed in his pockets, taking two steps to the side. “Fine, then listen to your mother.”

Then walked out a man dressed like the first one, holding her mom at gunpoint. Her lip was busted, and she had tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Irene, don’t listen to them. Just let them take me.”

She could hear her voice crack; she could almost feel her mother’s heart breaking. She did her best to be strong and firm, for the both of them.

Ignoring what her mother said, and as disgusted as she was to say this, she did anyways. “What do you guys want with me and my mom?”

“Put the knife down, and we’ll talk.” The man in the white suit said effortlessly.

She wasn’t as relaxed, “answer the Goddamn question!” She narrowed her eyes
dangerously at him.

He sighed, “It’s not your mom we want; it’s you.”