Short Story

Knowing you have a mate gives you a strange type of high. You know you'll never be able to hold him, or love him or even admire him from afar without getting slander from the whole pack and yet, you still somehow find yourself hoping that maybe this is the moment when you finally break out of the prison of an isolated life.

"You were a cute kid," I say aloud to him, smirking at his baffled expression. He was staring down at me with confusion, probably wondering what was happening and what the hell I was doing. I honestly don't even know what I'm doing myself.

Jason looked at the other papers and started laughing hysterically, “YES, I found everything I needed right now!!” Jason shoved the papers in front of Gage’s face and explained pointing to the upper right hand corner, “Mateo’s face is right here!,” he shifted his fingers to the middle, “And here’s classified info that proves he’s a criminal.” Jason took the papers back and read, “Wanted for: theft, possession of illegal goods, assault, evading arrest, and the list just goes on and on.”

Mother kisses the top of Clem's head and calls for Dad to bring her school. He sets his newspaper down and gets up. He walks over to me and kisses me on the forehead and grabs my hand, giving it a firm squeeze. This is an odd gesture to me seeing as affection is not necessarily allowed in our city. Apparently it is a form of self-indulgence, which is frowned upon in Rauhallinen.

“Please, you have to let me stay!” She heard someone plead. “I’m a nurse, I can help out.”

“When I went on patrol, there was a criminal that set fire onto the house of a rival family.” Dick almost forgot Bruce went on patrol without him; he couldn't go because his ankle was twisted.

“No, we can't risk breaking into another room, not after The Gatekeeper just ABDUCT-...” Cole was cut off by the bell. Knowing that anyone out late after the bell rings will be executed on sight, the students quickly get up and begin to walk home. Before everyone runs off he stops them.

“I am sorry…” Jimin whispered timidly once he spotted Taehyung wrapped in his bloody blanket. Jimin was too late and he couldn’t help, but feel immensely guilty for the act that was done to the new member of House of Card. Jimin tried, he really did, it took him long to find someone who allow him to use their phone and it took longer to call seeing as Yoon Sik kept looming around the area. Once Jimin finally got in contact with Yoongi, took a while as well, Yoongi ended up sounding kind of busy and very drunk. He understood everything the pink haired boy was saying, but he wasn’t all too sure on how to help, up until Jimin ended up yelling at him to come save Taehyung by taking him for the night.

Roughly eighteen minutes had passed since Payne left his apartment, and he already wanted to go home.

“Hello?” Harper answered. “Yes dear she will be fine with us here. Okay darling. Yes. Okay, see you tomorrow. Okay goodnight. Eva dear.”

London watched Maureen Frost fidget with the strap of her purse for as long as she could stand. Miss Frost’s face looked like a bleached catcher’s mitt—wrinkled, worn, and very pale. Her hair was frayed and her fingernails were yellowed and hardened into talons. London chastised herself for judging. She’d noticed Miss Frost’s appraisal of her when they’d met. Her eyes had widened at the sight of London’s pink hair and facial piercings. She probably thinks I’m as odd looking as I think she is, London thought.

“OUT!” roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.

“Yeah, someone needs to go up to France and give them a piece of all of our minds! And I think that I want to be the first!” Tyler exclaimed. Cameron and Tyler nodded in agreement.

He dropped his bag on the floor and he logged into his computer. It was just another day at his boring dead—end job.

THE TIME has come that I must tell the events which began in 40 Pest St. The houses which were reddish-black looked as if they had survived mysteriously from the fire of London. The house in front of my window, covered with an occasional wisp of creeper, was as blank and empty looking as any plague-ridden residence subsequently licked by flames and saliv’d with smoke. This is not the way that I had imagined New York.