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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1

'Yes?' Katherine Williams asked, shifting in her one-person bed. The door opened, and in came a woman with auburn hair, an upturned nose and full duck lips. Her skin was pale and patterned with deep eye bags, just as Katherine's just that her eyes were boringly brown and Amanda's— her mum's —were piercingly green.

    Her cooking apron was crimson and had a white figure on it, which should depict a dragon.

    She had a hard to understand Scottish accent, rolling the trademark "r"—very different from Katherine.

     'Who's there?' She asked and frowned, looking at the window.

     'No one.' Katherine had an urge not to tell Amanda that something was going on outside those boring four walls and stood up enthusiastically.

    'A'ight, if you say so.' Amanda didn't believe her. 'How can I help you, mum?'

    'I just heard the bed creak and wanted to come to see what happened. I'll be in the kitchen making shortbread and haggis for later.' She turned on her heel but turned around all of a sudden. The brow-haired hadn't moved even one millimetre.

   'As you're awake already—run down to the Whole Foods Market and grab some onions for me to roast, some liver from the refrigerator by the entrance door and some oats, will ya?' Something in her mum's tone was different—colder.

    Irritated by the early task, Katherine slammed her window. Once she got dressed, she opened the door, grabbed her dark-green coat and her chucks, sitting down on the floor in the corridor between the living room and the dormitories.

    'Hello?'  She heard her mother say under a muffled noise, which seemed to be her sipping her daily coffee.

     She put the cup down with a loud smash so that Katherine couldn't help but wonder if it had broken. 'Excuse me?.' She asked sharply and Katherine could hear a low voice coming out of the landline. The only words she could understand were muffled 'Katherine' and 'today'.

     'No! I said no! She doesn't need anyone—' But her mother couldn't finish her sentence, as the voice coming from the other side got louder than hers.

   Frowning, Katherine stared along the wall to her mother, trying to remain unseen.

   'Hmph. Now that is for her to decide, not you. We'll see.' She said and Katherine caught a glimpse of her face; the vein on Amanda's forehead was swollen slightly and her hand was clutching the landline hardly so that her knuckles showed white.

   'When is it?' She asked and worriedly grabbed her elbow, turning her back towards Katherine, looking out the window beside the armchair. 'That's a bit early, don't you think? Yes, I know that she is older now, but she's just not ready yet.' Silence from both; Katherine pressed her body against the hard stone wall around the corner.

    Ready for what? Who? What? Where? With whom was she talking?

    'We'll see then. Don't call this number anymore.' Amanda hissed and slammed the phone onto the receiver, making Katherine jump.

    'Kathy! Are you coming?' She yelled and turned the corner. Before Katherine could act, Amanda saw her daughter pressed against the wall, eyeing her. A confused expression spread over Amanda's harsh facial features—a split second later, she realized that Katherine had been listening.

   'Who phoned you?' Katherine asked and Amanda shook her head; she was on the verge of crying.

   'Mum—'

   'Go. Now.' She demanded and her daughter's cheeks turned slightly red as she went into the living room. She grabbed the money that lay on the counter and ran to the creaky door that led into a deserted stairwell with mostly rats as inhabitants.

     The air in it was foul and smelled of eggs and rat's excrements—

     The light didn't work, she figured, as she had switched the light switch five times—

     And the half-darkness made it a challenge finding the steps that were shaped uneven and made out of old wood.

     Once she got a grip of the wooden railing, she felt the wood grubs' holes in it, pulling it away immediately. Turning her nose up in disgust she grabbed it again, rushing down the first step and feeling a rush of familiarity.

    Almost at the bottom, Katherine could see the daylight peaking from the end of the corridor.

    The flooring of the long corridor was made out of mostly broken and dusty dark brown parquet and on the left side of the entrance hall was a small administration desk, where someone usually sat and took notes of who left and entered block number three.

    Old Randy—the administrator— wasn't there yet and the lights were off in the small administration are, the only illumination source were the two vast and extremely high windows, emphasizing the high ceiling.

     The blinds of those tall windows were pulled up, which was unusual as Old Randy never came at this time.

   The eighty-something year old always came at seven o'clock on the point, only opening the blinds then.

   Suspiciously, Katherine walked slower, making out terrifying scenes in her mind:

Maybe it was a thief that would kill her if he saw she was there, and maybe he was armed, maybe it was a serial killer, but that thought she shook off immediately.

    She ought to say "Hello?" but let it be and rather planned how she'd make a run for the door.

    She wanted to just run out, but if a thief was there, she had to do something.

    Then again: who'd break into Block number three? There are indeed not too many burglars coming to this part of the city.

    Once she reached the entrance hall, she looked at the wall in front of her. The door behind the stone counter was open but it was dark, revealing only dark silhouettes of furniture.

    Katherine's heart started racing and she felt uncomfortable, as though someone was watching her.

    She leaned against the counter and the light turned on at the front desk; Katherine flinched back as the light switch was on the opposite wall.

   Suddenly, the light went on in the stairwell as well, probably starting from the very last floor to down here; an old man, eighty-something-year-old, almost half-bold, appeared from under the counter.

    He had a grim morning face, with a long white-grey beard and a mole on his nose that was crooked and made him look like an alchemist.

    'Hoo! Kathy!' He said, also a bit taken aback. The light was blinding and it took a few seconds to get used to it.

    'Good morning Old Randy!' she exclaimed, a weight lifting from her chest.

    'What are you doing here?' he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

    His suspiciousness made Katherine look at him confused.

    'I was going out, but I may ask you just the same question,'

    'I was doing my job.' He exclaimed and raised his hands innocently. His jacket revealed something black on the backside of his wrist, right beneath his palm; numbers. Six digits; a tattoo. Weren't tattoos forbidden? She frowned but didn't say anything about it. Katherine had never even noticed those numbers.

     'I got complaints about the lights not working. I wanted a mechanism-guy to come to check it out, but when I had to fill out the form about the block number, that stupid young boy in a blue ugly uniform said no,' he made a short break and mimicked the guy that Katherine could only imagine as tired and grumpy from the early call, 'and threw the form away.'

    'It's—' He took a glance to his right onto the big grandfather clock standing beside the desk behind the counter, matching with the dark brown wood of the desk.

   '—Ten past six!' He pulled his eyebrows up in surprise. An indirect question. 'Well, I got woken up by my window.' Katherine explained fast.

'Oh. That' still a problem?'

   'No, no, it's okay, don't worry.' She smiled politely and looked to the door.

'And that woke you up . . . ?  Your window?' He asked, scribbling something down onto the clipboard that had five different wide columns; name, date, time, block and flat.

    'Yeah.' She answered awkwardly but Old Randy didn't seem to believe her.

'Oh, before I forget', Katherine started while walking towards the door, her hand already on the metal handle. 'Who are the men over by the blockhouses?' Old Randy's face, you could say, dropped.

    'The men? Oh, Kathy, stay for a cup 'o tea, will ya?'' He asked and was suddenly chalk white in the face.

    'Never mind it, Old Randy, sorry for disturbing you. I'm off to get some things for my mum, can't stay for a cup of tea,' she said weirdly and hesitated, pushing the door open. Freezing air surrounded her whole body, making her limbs numb.

   'Get me a few Chamomile tea bags, while you are at it!' He requested loudly.

   'Sure.'

London was a quiet city, embossed by bad weather. It mostly rained and storms were coming up, especially because the storm-season was arriving.

     The street to her right was very new and probably the most costly thing in London, after the mansions in the Private Sector and the skyscrapers, which were used as office buildings. It had a baby-blue line in the middle of it.

    A glance to the right made the faces of the two tuxedo-dressed men clearer; the light-skinned had a slight stubble beard and the dark-skinned had piercings in his dimple-sections.

   Quickly, Katherine looked away and started walking faster.

   Something about them was unsettling and scary and made her skin crawl—was it the dark-skinned lingering glare or maybe the venomous tint in the cropped haired guy's face?

   Once she reached The Roasted Bean, the only tea shop in London, she opened the door: the shop looked as if it truly belonged to be a divination-master. The room was darkened, candle-lit and smelly from the tea bags.

    There were purple gowns on the tables and beneath the cash register, the floor dark brown and the amount of tea exceptionally large.

    Looking around the shelves of the flower-teas, she felt watched again, but this time it was a reasonable feeling, as she saw something white look at her; right beside the stand for African-Begonia-tea was a peak-hole, barely noticeable, and to her dislike, there was an eye peeking through it.

    Wincing and jumping back, she gasped for air as the eye blinked.

    'Katherine!'

    The owner of The Roasted Bean croaked and the eye disappeared.      

    'Madeline!' Katherine exclaimed annoyed and held onto her head.

A small section of the wall opened up to form a secret door. A red, wild-curly-haired woman, in her mid-forties with glasses that made her eyes look ten times bigger than they were, came out.

    She was dressed in an orange gown and large green hippie pants with weird shapes on them.

'What a pleasure!' She croaked again. Her voice was chipped, as she was a smoker; she smoked two or three cigarette packs a day. Sometimes, Katherine wondered how she still lived, and every time she asked Madeline that, she responded with a pretty vivid and unrealistic answer.

    'It's the teas, my dear! They make you immortal!'

She did sound like a freak but based on the circumstances, that she indeed still lived, it was pretty impressive. 

     How she made he teas—because she made them on her own— is yet to remain a mystery.

'How may I help you, Kathy dear?' She asked and looked at Katherine; she was standing so close to her, that Katherine could see her reflection in Madeline's misty eyes.

    'Umm . . .  I'd like some Chamomile tea, please.'

    'Old Randy Beck again, eh?' She grunted and turned her back to Katherine, revealing a big red dragon eating its tail, stamped onto the purple gown. She was rummaging through a low shelf by the flower-teas. Suddenly, she stopped-

   'Have you ever met your father?'  Madeline turned around with bigger eyes than ever. 

   Irritated by the fact that Madeline was talking about her father, she looked to her right and pressed her lips into a thin line.

   'No.'

'You will.' She said in a clairvoyant, raspy voice making Katherine crazy.

   'The tea, Madeline.' Katherine snapped angrily and clenched her jaw: she never really met her father in a way that she could remember, only heard the things about him and how he is the possibly worst person in this world. Her mother used to tell her how he was a real gentleman. Then he got promoted to get a higher place in the government. He was part of the leadership a few years ago, and now he was the leader. A dictator with too much power. 

    She didn't like talking about him but still, she had the same family name—Williams.

    He left Amanda and their small baby back one night when he got the promotion letter and immediately packed. He packed everything and left, making his wife shake for several weeks until he saw him on TV.

   '. . . and the new leader of the west, who also closed the arrangement with the eastern Chinese metropole, is Brad Williams! The creator of the Western Alienated Nations! Brad Williams will be known for the first man who connected countries not just by their landmass but all-around other continents. He will make an appearance in Beijing, Shanghai and Shenzhen, together with the eastern leader, Lao Wáng.' Said the reporter with short blonde hair and golden half-moon spectacles.

     'My plans are very clear and plain.'  Said the oddly cold voice. 'Connecting the European, African and Scandinavian Nations with the US. When the time has come for the war, all will understand, and until then, I will make sure that our continents are safe during very hard periods of corruption and destruction. Already now the secret political and religious and wars are taking over the smaller countries of the western and perhaps also eastern nations. I herewith thank the Foreign Affairs Council for electing me.'

    Katherine heard his voice, forgot it, and never heard it again.

    'Here. Chamomile.' Madeline passed her three bags of tea.

    'Excuse my digging, but have you ever heard of the Feast of Victory?'  She asked cautiously. Madeline pressed her lips together she studied the girls face.

    'No.'

    'You will.'

Katherine crammed out ten pounds and pressed them into Madeline's hands. 'You will meet him! The great! The infamous... .' She croaked as Katherine sped to the door, opening it and gasping once she breathed in outside.

    She hadn't even noticed how warm and how stuffy the air was in there. The cold air felt mentholated in her lungs. She went to the Whole Foods Market and got back to block number three just before seven o'clock, strolling along the empty streets.

    She kept thinking about what Madeline had said, and wondered what the Feast of Victory was; it sounded exquisite and somehow familiar. Feast of Victory . . .  She must have heard it somewhere.

    Katherine pulled the hole-infested door open easily.

   'Got your tea bags!' She said somewhat happy to be around someone not crazy and leaned against the stone counter. 'How is she?' He asked out of a sudden and in a worried undertone. 'Who?'

   'Madeline. I heard her say that she feels sick. I mean, wouldn't be anything to be shocked about, but she said her sight was going black and she was dizzy all the time,' he explained in a low voice.

    'She seemed all right, as far as I care,' Katherine mumbled the last part, still tensioned about the prophecy about her producer. Since when hadn't she thought about him as a father.

    'If you say so . . .' Old Randy looked to his right, as if there was a window, showing right onto Madeline.

    'Where are the men from earlier today?' Katherine asked, meaning to make some side-chat, and nudged her head to the right.

    'Gone.' A dramatic pause. 'They will be coming back though. They are getting ready for the feast—Oh! I meant for the . . . the arrival of the . . . umm—you should go upstairs. Your mother asked where you were.' He was getting nervous again.

    'The feast!' Katherine exclaimed loudly, and Old Randy let the cup down defeated. 'The Feast of Victory, you mean?' She almost felt as crazy as Madeline. Old Randy closed his eyes.

   'Where did you hear that?' He asked quietly, somehow disappointed and a slight annoyance brewed up in Katherine—why was he acting so strange? Why was everyone acting so strange today?

   'Does it matter? Yet, I could go and tell Amanda I got it from you,' she felt bad for blackmailing Old Randy; he was like a grandfather to her, always taking her in for tea, talking to her about problems he had and always putting in a good word for her.

    'You wouldn't!' He gasped and Katherine nodded fiercely, about to lose her act, pushing her nails into her palm.

    'I don't know what feast you are talking about!' He said sternly and loudly.

    'Oh well, then I'll go and ask the guys outside myself. I saw one of them was in the window watching me,' she didn't see any men standing outside, but Old Randy was naïve concerning some things.

    'Shhhh!' He hissed, probably spitting all over the counter while doing so. Katherine backed away, eyes wide open. Old Randy was bent over the counter looking at her like he'd gone mad.

   'They-can-hear-us-so-don't-talk-about-it-here,' he cried in a long whisper. 'What?'  Katherine whispered back.

   'Come here,' he motioned to the door on the side of the counter.

   'They can hear us.' He repeated. She nodded slowly and her head started hurting of the air—probably she was just used to the fresh air too much.

    'Who are they?'  She prompted. 'Soldiers—I mean, not soldiers. Law enforced, here to watch us,' he whispered again.

    'Us?' She asked confused. 'The feast, of course! And . . . and you,' He sighed. Her head was now really aching, her stomach twisting because of the foul air mixed with old-man-breath in her face. 'Me?'

    'I don't know the exact details; I just heard that you will be taken care of.'

    'Now, that sounds reassuring.' Katherine mumbled sarcastically.

'The Feast of Victory!' He added and rolled his right shoulder in discomfort.

    'Twenty years ago, America won more mass in Africa than in China. I assume you've heard of the fight of Africa.? The two-world-force thing where China and America battled for as much landmass as possible; America is leading with the takeover of Europe, while China got more of Antarctica and the poles than America,' he looked at her and Katherine nodded curiously. 'And ten years ago, they won against Europe—that was when your father moved to America.' He explained fast.

     'Yeah, I know he moved to New York—but he did what?'  She asked shook, not able to think about all the blood spilt in that take-over. 'He took—took over Europe? How is that even possible? Was there a—a war?'  She prompted, her insides cramping.

     'No, don't be silly! We would have been dead already if there was a war. And circumstances would have been different. He just gained too much power, he didn't know what to do with it. You don't remember the times because you were too young—'

    'I was six, for god's sake!' Katherine exclaimed annoyed and rushed.

    'I know! But listen. Listen.' He started, moving his hands awkwardly while he was speaking, twisting and turning them.

    'Your father wanted to make sure everyone obeyed him. He took teenagers from all around his "conquered" countries from seventeen to adults that were thirty years old and made then join the army. His army.' he explained with big eyes, his lower lip trembling.

   'Army?'

   'You are very young, Katherine. That was all you needed to know for now,'

   'Randy!'

   'He owns more than half of the world.!' He said terrified, anger and regret mirroring in his eyes. 'What I'm trying to lead up is, that that army of his is planning something. Something big—may be an infiltration. I haven't seen the intelligence rate go up like this in a long time. I think I know who is causing the commotion.' He added at the end. 'Who?' Katherine had been leaning forward, mouth slightly open.

     'It's not good, Kathy.' Old Randy looked away. 'Tell me right now.'

     'The east. It's coming from the east.'

'Wait—are you saying that . . . that people from the east are causing trouble in the west?' She asked slowly.

      'It's what I heard, and what I presume.'

'Do you even know what that means? That means that the border-laws were broken.'

     'Trust me, Kathy. I know. That is why you can't trust anyone and why you can't talk about things like these in public. They've got bugs in every single building.' He grabbed her hand and looked as if he were sorry.

      'If it is how I think it is, that means that a new era of enmity towards the east will destroy all the balance made.'

      'And that weird feast?' Katherine asked, actually having a loss of words. War. With the weapons the nations have, they could wash out entire countries.'

     'It is to worship the leader's victory. But I think that there is something else behind it. It should be a distraction. . . .' Suddenly the entrance door blasted open. Old Randy had good and darn quick reflexes; as soon as he saw the shoes, he pressed Katherine down. She quickly ducked down and crawled out of the backroom and under the counter; she could make out yellow shoes, that could belong to one person only; the mail guy.

    Frozen and not moving a muscle, she sat hidden between cobwebs the size of her face, some thicker and some thinner, with spiders crawling along with them. She wondered why she wasn't allowed to be up there if it was just the mailman. Something was wrong, though. The postman didn't . . . he didn't talk just yet.

    Her back was pressed against the wall of the tall counter and her heart was racing, because of her fear of spiders. There was no need to be paranoid because of some mail guy, delivering the daily mail.

    'F—for Miss Katherine W—Williams from the leader himself.' He said sounding scared, silence filling the entrance. Katherine clapped her hand over her mouth, trying not to gasp.

   Then, she saw shiny, black, patent leather shoes appear from behind the postman. When did he enter?

   'What flat is she in?' He asked, his voice deep and rough—in fact, the lowest that she ever heard. And it somehow was appealing.

   'Name please.' Old Randy said sharply. 'No need for that. Miss Williams will perfectly understand.' The stern and cold voice appeared again, making Katherine shiver, longing to see the attractive-voiced male.

    Suddenly, she felt something crawl on her hand; when she looked down, a black creature was crawling on it. The black spider had long legs and a thin, oval-shaped body, it looked terrifying. She whimpered and flicked it away, her heart racing; she slid to the front, touching Old Randy's shoe, not able to control her breathing. There was silence for a few seconds, in which she had to hold her breath.

     'I need your name, block and so on.' Old Randy didn't feel the need to explain everything again.

     'Of course. That.' He laughed wickedly and clapped his hands together victoriously. Somehow, though Katherine knew that the male wasn't from here. He talked differently and she knew no patent-leather-shoes-wearing men came to block number three. Katherine was sure that Old Randy knew that.

    'There are important matters to be spoken about.' He said. 'And I am sure that you understand perfectly,' he added. Randy Beck did not answer. Katherine would've wanted to look at who made that vicious silence happen. The mailman whimpered too, sounding terrified.

     'Can I go now?' He asked; at first, there was no response.

     'Yes. You are dismissed.' The cold and appealing voice said and immediately after that, the door flew open and shut close. 'I am sincerely sorry but I still need an ID or name, since you don't seem to be from around here.' Old Randy said, his voice also stern, not letting go of his idea; there was something about his voice that made Katherine think he spoke to someone he was familiar to.

    'Richard.' He said, and only now Katherine noticed again, that he had a hard American accent, totally different to Old Randy's and her self's. She was fascinated and stared into the void for a few seconds. He scribbled it down. 'Flat six.' He responded forcedly and Katherine heard footsteps trail away.

   She climbed from below and looked at Old Randy.

   He looked exasperated.

   'Did you know that man?' She asked quickly and somewhat accusingly. 'No. Now could you please follow him?' He grunted disapprovingly.

   When Katherine reached flat number six on the second story, the door had already been closed and Richard was probably inside. Her heart was hammering against her chest: her producer wanted her to have something? And who was Richard?  She was anxious to meet him, because of the authority he had and because of how appealing his voice sounded. And she was anxious about the consequences of the eastern troublemaking.

   She placed the bag of groceries beside the kitchen counter and Amanda nodded towards her room. She was holding onto her elbow tightly and looked as if she hadn't slept the whole night—but she had. Katherine gathered all her courage and slowly walked towards the door leading to a familiar room that suddenly seemed so distant. She took a step and another step and the hallway seemed just too long and in the next moment, she opened the door. She didn't hesitate after her long and slow walk through the stone-walled corridor.  

     'Katherine. Pleasure.'

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2

It took her breath away—he took her breath away. The light was falling onto his light brown hair and it shone strangely golden; he had a fade hairstyle and the lightest stubble beard, barely visible. His eyes were grey with patches of blue and his structure bold and muscular—very muscular and broad. He was dressed pretty nicely in tight jeans, his patent leather shoes and a slim-fit black and white cotton shirt, with long sleeves that he folded up to his elbows.

    You could see his biceps through the shirt, it was too small for his arms.

    Backing away, Katherine grabbed an umbrella.

    'Put the umbrella down. If you want to fight, let me show you something to fight with,' he said grinning, taking out a gun—his gun. At that point, Katherine put down the umbrella. She felt a knot in her throat that blocked her spit from going down.

    He laughed bitterly and observed his gun.

    Not saying anything, Katherine backed towards her bed, so that she could dodge the shot—if there even was a shot.

   'This is my baby. Glock nineteen.' He casually threw the gun onto the bed.

   'Who—who are you?' She asked, staring at the black professional gun, even though she knew his name. Way more she wanted to know what he wanted, but such a question would never come out of her mouth.

   'Richard.'

   Katherine looked at the blonde guy, maybe in his early twenties

   'How old are you?' He said as if it was a hard question.

   'Sixteen, huh! Young teenie!' He smirked. 'Get out of my room.' Katherine demanded, sounding shaky; there were more and more car engines starting outside, hallowing along the streets.

    'No, don't worry, I'm fine,' he smiled and sat down on the bed. His hand drove over the thin and harsh material, his eyes flying over the grey finish. The room suddenly seemed way smaller than before. It must have been because of Richard's height because he was tall. Not necessarily much taller than Katherine, but ahead definitely.

    'I wonder,' he started, and soon Katherine figured that he wouldn't be continuing before, she sighed.

    'What? What are you wondering about?' She asked dismayed. 'I wonder what the best restaurant is in the area,' he added and ended his sentence with him lying down flat on her bed, crossing his arms under his head. 
      'Heather's Kitchen. And would you mind getting off my bed?' she hissed and balled her fists. 'Aren't you going to ask me the main question?' Richard locked eyes with Katherine, who swallowed hard. The main question. What was the main question? Katherine grabbed the hairband that was closely tied around her hair and opened it, making her long, brown and straight hair fall loosely.

    'How should I know what the main question is? Perhaps who you are? Yeah—who are you and what do you want from me?' Katherine's change in tone made Richard chuckle, and even that made Katherine shiver.

     'I am Richard and I want to get money,' he looked at his fingers, driving over his neatly cut nails.

     Katherine tried to be polite but knew that her mother's taught lessons in manners wouldn't be too useful if Richard kept giving her such answers. She breathed in and out and cleared her throat.

     'What is your full name and who sent you? And after you tell me who sent you, you will tell me what they told you to do and why me. And why my mother is so afraid of you.' She demanded and was taken aback, too.

      'You are just so smart! Alright, where should I start? I must say—'

      'How about you start at the beginning,' she suggested sassily and crossed her arms.

      'Your father sent me, he wants me to keep you safe because of the bad people out there, especially now with the Feast of Victory going on. Oh and your schizophrenic mother? She is just afraid that your father might take you away, don't worry, I don't usually intimidate persons.'

       Katherine frowned.

       'The people Brad is trying to keep me safe from—are they the group from the east, that is causing commotion in the—'

      Richard bolted up, scowling. He looked confused and angry at the same time. 'Who told you?' Was all he said before a long silence began. She didn't know what to say and shook her head, taken aback by his harshness. 'Someone like you shouldn't know something like that. It's fatal if word spreads London about this,' he said, extremely tense, grabbing his phone. 'No!' Katherine said loudly and captured his attention. 'I—I overheard two men today. They were from America and were guarding a black car. No need to panic, I won't tell anyone.'

      'That's not the problem, because you people don't know what that means,' he insisted. 'You don't know what that means.'  A melodramatic undertone.

       People always thought she was feeble, fragile and weak—but she wasn't. She knew way more than others thought and was capable of doing so many things not even she thought of being possible. She cleared her throat, as she felt his eyes on her. 'Can you leave now?' She squished in another 'please' but that didn't seem to make him leave. It seemed like nothing would make him leave. After quite the moment of silence, in which both looked away—Katherine out of the high window and onto the sky and Richard around her room—Richard started tapping with his foot.

     At first, it didn't bother her, but then, after a minute or so, Katherine sighed.

     'Could you stop?' She asked, and he did. It was an awkward situation and that not only because she didn't know how to act around boys, but because of his presence.

      'I know what will happen. But why do I need you to be here? I can take care of myself.'

'You have no idea, little girl, what will happen to Europe. To Africa. There will be more deaths if the West attacks the East, that they could—'

      'Washout entire countries. Nations. I know, trust me. The rate of deaths would be higher than in World War Two, more deaths than smallpox brought with it. Because it would be treason to the peace-laws, to the border-laws. That would mean that the laws applied in the East were gone; no western would care about the borders. Economic downfall; perhaps inflation and a time of mass poverty. If China attacked America with its nuclear weapons, there'd be a mass extinction. Society would—'

     'Yes, I've understood that you're well informed. Too well, if I may add.' He said suspiciously.

     'Why too well? I have the right to know things like these.' She hissed and remembered Old Randy telling her about all the things he learned while studying economics in America.

     'Oh, before I forget,' the sentence filled the room.

     'I can't leave until I give you this,' he dramatically took out a red envelope, with a brown stamp on it. It was a rectangular rather small envelope, with neat, curly writing saying:

To: Miss Katherine and Amanda Williams

Re: The Feast of Victory

From: Foreign Affairs Council [Bertha Crocks, chairman]

    The crimson red envelope flattered in Richard's hands, as he was swaying it around. Katherine tried not to look at it interested, but it was the first-ever document from her father.

    'This is yours,' he explained. Katherine walked beside him, stretching her back, noticing how candle-straight Richard was standing all the time: it was giving him more authority than he should have had.

    Before she could grab the envelope, there was a loud crash, making Katherine flinch; Richard didn't move a muscle as if he was trained not to. Please don't come in mom.   

     'What—'

     The door flew open to her room and Amanda straight up ignored the gun lying on the grey bedding, looking at Richard. Her look was focused on the red envelope. Staring at her mother, she forgot that Richard was in her room and that a gun was lying on her bed.
     'Give it to me.' Amanda demanded calmly. She'd put on pinstripe pants with black white stripes, and a light blue blouse Katherine had never seen. The rude smirk of Richard came upon the blonde's face again.  

   'Here,' he loftily passed Amanda the crimson envelope, which snatched it out of his hand. She checked the front and backside of the envelope before ripping it open carefully. She folded open the paper, that had the colour of washed-out red.

    Her eyes flew across the lines and she looked at Richard. 'So this is it, huh?' Amanda asked monotone and through gritted teeth.

    'Can I read it also, mum?'

    To Katherine's surprise, Amanda held the letter towards her. Cautiously she mimicked Amanda and also snatched it out of her mother's hand, getting flashed an irritated look from her but ignoring it, starting to read the first line.

Dear     Mrs and Ms Williams,

Speaking for the infamous leader of the east is the Foreign Affairs Council, based in California, America. We invite you to the party of the decade dedicated to the win-over of Europe. The feast will consist of a small buffet with typical American food, music and traditional speeches by the chairman and the secretary of the FFA.

This year, the feast will be taking place in Europe: England, London. It starts at five o'clock and ends at approximately eleven in the evening.

We please you to put on evening clothes, as it will be a very formal feast.     Attending will also be the official headship of the Army camps.

We hope to see you there and wish to politely and sincerely remember you of formal behaviour towards Mr Williams.

    Best Regards, Bertha Crocks.

She folded the red parchment together neatly. Her glare went from a smirking Richard to an angry Amanda. Both pairs of eyes were resting on Katherine and she felt her cheeks flush. Her producer would be there and they got invited.

     Why now? She thought, as there had been a feast fifteen years ago, too.

     Her eyes glided onto the letter. '...and wish to and politely and sincerely remember you of formal behaviour towards Mr Williams.'  She looked up again, silence filling the room. 'What d'you say?' Richard asked casually, crossing his arms.

     'She says nothing,' Amanda ventured.

     'I do, actually,' Katherine felt something build in her throat—a lump. 'I want to go there. I want to—to meet him.' Katherine swallowed hardly, the vein on her mother's forehead swelled.  'No.' she said quietly.

    'Well, you see, she's the age —'

    'A CRAP SHE IS!' Amanda now snapped.

    'She will not meet Brad and this stupid thing will not be taking place here! He is a no one and my daughter —my Katherine, will never get a glimpse of him again!' When Amanda was finished with her yelling, Katherine, as well as Richard, were taken aback, staring at the red-head.

    'M—mom...'

    'Leave! Both of you! I can't believe you, Katherine . . .' She hissed and pointed to the door, her voice disappointed. The whole street must have heard that rant. Unsure, Katherine looked at the blonde, to the pistol, and her mother again.

    The vein was now swollen to its largest expense and her face was starting to get purple. Her hand and finger were trembling and she had the other one balled into a fist.

   Richard looked calm again, and it surprised Katherine that he did. After all, she had never heard her mother yell—it had been the first time that she lost it.

   'Amanda,' he said. 'You are sending your daughter away because she wants to meet her father—' 

'Producer,' Katherine intervened, looking at her mother. She, too, was trembling.

    The yell still echoed in between the stone walls and Katherine had clutched the invitation so hard, that it started to crumble.

    She hadn't even noticed how she was getting nudged out of her room from a blonde guy, tall with a square like a face and the lower lip bigger than the upper lip, one hand on Katherine's small of the back and in the other one clutching the so-called Glock nineteen.

    'Come to dinner.' Amanda hissed to Katherine, who looked at her mother with regretful eyes, pinching her eyebrows together. 'Mom, I'm so—' Sorry, she meant to say.

   'You know who your father is. You know what he's done. You on your own decision to go and meet him. If you could call it decision. Much rather manipulation. So why don't you stick to Richard like his lapdog?' Amanda said disgusted, with tears in her eyes. 'I'm here to keep your daughter safe, Amanda. One day, you'll thank Brad for hiring me,' he explained as calm as ever.

      'I'll never thank Brad for anything. Especially not for hiring some stupid bodyguard. This is useless. You are useless, Richard.'

      'Very well, we'll see.'

   Katherine opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again, looking to the floor, Richard pushing her out again.

    'Don't touch me.' She hissed when the door shut close, and Richard was still grasping her.

    'What a coincidence that the leader knew this was going to happen!' Richard said amused as if everything that happened in flat number six didn't just happen a few seconds ago. Katherine was still too mesmerized, remembering Amanda's words, trying to find her own words.

   'Pardon me?'

   'Yeah, he warned me, princess. Perhaps I should have done so, too,'

   'He couldn't have possibly known—and don't call me that!' She spat. She looked around at Richard again, now feeling dizzy. A dirty and mean grin spread on the already mean-looking face. 

   'Go downstairs or I'll have to carry you down. And I remind you—you don't want me to touch you,'

   She obeyed for some reason, not wanting to cause trouble. He had a gun, so he could threaten her with it to death at any time.

    Jumping off the last stair, she walked past Old Randy, who looked alarmed from all the commotion upstairs.

   Once he saw Richard though, he grabbed the phone. 'Put it down, Old Randers, everything went like the plan,' Richard exclaimed casually but the old man didn't obey like a puppet. Not like her.

   'Put the gun down, Richard.' Old Randy prompted with the receiver still in his wrinkled hand.

   'Come on princess,' Richard said to Katherine, but she took a step away from Richard, getting closer to the old, detonated wall.

   'I've decided otherwise —I'm not meeting him. And you can go now,'

Old Randy put the receiver down slowly, looking at the brown-haired.   

    'I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen and just for information, meeting the leader isn't quite your choice. You will meet him because it's settled already.'  Richard said in a cool voice, pressing his hand between Katherine's shoulders; she stepped aside again, looking to the stairs; she could make a run for it.

     'Don't, Katherine,' Richard said annoyed and looked at his hand.

     'This baby here is loaded.' Katherine gasped, her stomach hurting with soreness; she hadn't eaten anything.

     'Of course, I wouldn't —though I also wouldn't get put in prison . . .' He made a quick pause, seeming to overthink the possibility of shooting her.

     'Don't cause a scene, Princess, and move.' Richard gestured towards the door, while Katherine was searching Old Randy's look.

'I said MOVE!' The roughness in Richard's voice was so sudden, that Katherine felt her shoulders hurt; she had to obey, or else she would get shot at.

    'Why are you even here—'

    A tight grasp around her wrist made her wince and stumble forward to the door. She felt her pulse rise with the anger of getting grasped at like that. 'I already told your mother that up there,' he hissed.

    'Where are you going?' The old man asked while Richard was cleaning his teeth with his tongue.

    'I'm taking her out for food. I see she doesn't get all too much around here,' he smirked at Katherine, looking her up and down, who retorted with a disgusted look on her face.

   Old Randy shushed both of them out and to Katherine's surprise didn't try to keep her inside. She was disappointed and angry at the same time, that she had just been thrown out of her own house, from her mother because she wanted to meet her producer, and that the only seeming friend she had made her get out of her safe-place with a lunatic with a loaded gun.

    She stomped beside Richard, who seemed more amused by the second, having let go of Katherine's wrist. Once they turned the corner and The Roasted Bean came in sight, she frowned.

    'Wait. Where are you even taking me?' She asked

    'Heather's kitchen,' the way he pronounced 'Heather's Kitchen' made her squirm.

    'Oh stop balling your eyes out. Your father—producer—is way more generous than that old rat of a woman—' He stopped talking as he saw the look on Katherine's face. 'What I meant to say is that America is much prettier. And your father can give you more academic possibilities. You see, he's rich,'

    'Oh come on! What do I care? He is a dictator!'
     'Watch that pretty mouth of yours, Katherine.' After a break, she shook her head, tears starting to fill her eyes. 'You're a psychopath, Richard.' Katherine said pissed off.

    'Well, thank you, princess.' He retorted smiling.

    They walked past the big fountain out of Marmor, the highlight, with no one else than Brad Williams in the middle, below him two soldiers, who were each holding a gun.

    'One should've been me,' Richard suddenly said seriously, as he watched the sixteen-year-old girl inspect the fountain's sculptures.

    She didn't answer to Richard's comment, looking up to the soldiers; both had pretty upset faces and held the guns so that they pointed into the air; they were large guns, machine guns maybe. The hats were typical army hats and the uniform as well. You could easily recognize the cameo-pattern. They were wearing large combat boots. Different than the two soldiers, Brad was standing upright, his face soft as hers, and his lips pressed together into a thin line.

    'Heather's Kitchen isn't opened all the time.' He hissed and grabbed Katherine's arm. 'I said don't touch me!' She exclaimed loudly and tried to shrug him off.

    'Stop fighting me off, princess on the pea.' He let go in the end. 'Don't call me a princess on the pea!'

    'Anything else I shouldn't do?' He snapped annoyed, tilting his head to the side.

    People had started looking at them, so Richard casually swung his arm around her shoulder. She noticed how visibly uncomfortable he was. He gripped her shoulder tightly so that she had to squirm again.

     'You say your mother's responsible, yeah? As far as I can see, she gave you no money and kicked you out of the flat, telling you to come back in the evening. Brad would never.'

    'Oh, you know, I don't particularly care about what Brad has to say or what he would do.' She hissed.

    Soon, they were walking towards a noble and old looking restaurant, with white letters spread across the window-wall in an arc: Heather's Kitchen. He let go of her and a slight disappointment surrounded her: she lingered his touch, his smell his—She stopped her thoughts, flushing.

     Outside of the noble restaurant stood a butler, looking eerily like a James, with a long horse face, half-closed eyes and the typical 'James'  black and white butler suit, combed back light brown hair and mouth corners pointing downwards, one hand behind his back, the other one resting beside his tall body.

    'Hello, mister Gazer—oh.' The butler said in a bored voice, barely looking up.

    'Table three at seven twenty—on point Mister Gazer.' He said, tilting his head back to get a glance at Katherine, who looked around, balancing on the tip of her foot, back onto her heel, her hands behind her back. 

     'And this must be Ms Williams.'

Katherine looked from a nice arranged, low hanging flower pot to James, who had opened his eyes further.

    'Pleasure meeting you, Miss,' he said nodding.

    Once they got inside the noble restaurant, the smell of fresh seafood made itself at home in Katherine's nose; she looked around to see where the source of the good odour came from but didn't succeed, as her eyes trailed her to the kitchen door; a white door with a big, round window on the top, revealing only silver metal kitchen counters and a chef's hat peeking out at the very top of it. 

    'Interesting door, I know,' Richard motioned towards a table. 'It always mesmerizes me,' he added sarcastically and pushed her forwards. 

    Katherine preferred to go to Old Randy's, as his mother was a really good cook and made homemade pizza, lasagne, mushroom stew and much more, the ten-person table being full every time she and Amanda went there.

   She observed her surroundings and noticed a steel cloche over a large plate getting carried past her.

    'Hey—hey, Katherine!'  Richard snapped his fingers in front of Katherine's face; she had drifted off into a daydream, leaning her head on her right hand.

   'Huh? What? I wasn't . . . Can you maybe repeat what you were saying—but wait.' She said with a mocking undertone so that even Richard frowned at the fast mood change.

    'I don't care.'

    Richard growled and took the menu into his hands.

    'Decide what you'll take, won't you? We haven't got all the time in the world.' He said, obviously pissed.

     'Oh, sorry! Did the princess on the pea hit a nerve?' Katherine didn't smile.

'Not exactly you, but yeah, your father hit a nerve of mine. Time stress, I'm no good under time pressure.' He growled again, folding the three paged menu back to its usual one-sided menu page, putting it beside his plate.

     The plates were white and had a golden rim, shining in the yellowish light, matching with the brown walls.

    'What's he want you to do—'

    'I don't need you asking me questions about what I have to do. Just choose what you eat. Have you?' He asked and raised his eyebrows.

    'Uh—yeah.' Katherine quickly improvised; not knowing Richard, she didn't know how he reacted to getting annoyed while already pissed off

    'Seafood. Anything with seafood—uh, like shrimps and octopus,' She said nervously.

    'You mean calamari,'

    'I meant to say so.'

Richard slammed two one hundred bills onto the table, leaving Katherine stunned, as to how much she had eaten; two plates of fried calamari rings, muscles of all sorts and a big shrimp portion.

    'I have to go now.' The blonde said; in the pale sunlight, his hair seemed white. 'Where are you going?'

    'Ever heard of none of your business? No? Well good luck finding out.' He pointed the Mercedes keys towards a black Mercedes, which opened with a blink. He walked to it, completely ignoring Katherine.

   'And what do I do now?' She called after him, trying to keep up with him.

   'Luckily, I am not responsible for that. Just . . .  don't get yourself killed. Not here.' He winked at her and smiled.

    'But you are my bodyguard, right? That's what you said,'

'Part-time toddler-watching, not full-time. There are things way more important than you,' he hissed and only afterwards noticed how cruel that sounded. He meant to say sorry but left.

Glaring after the car, Katherine wondered about what to do now; going back to flat number six was not an option.

      When it hit five o'clock, she greeted Old Randy with a head-nodding and started jumping up the stairs, careful not to trip over the higher set one, reaching the first level faster than expected.

     Knock—Knock.

     About to call her mother's name, the door opened with one swing; Amanda looked sleepy and yawned.

    'Evening,' she said and stepped aside, as if nothing ever happened, as if she never threw out her child.

At the thought of today's morning and afternoon, Katherine clenched her jaw.

    'Are you hungry?' Amanda asked, switching on the orange-yellow light in the kitchen, smiling innocently.

'No, I'm fine.'

The small burner phone rang, it's ringtone on the lowest volume. Amanda Williams had been sitting by the fire, nibbling on her fingernails like a crazy woman and waiting by the phone—like every night.
When it did ring and the small screen read ʙʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇʀ ɪᴅ, she knew it was a message from him.
'Hello?' She mumbled excitedly, hoping that Katherine did not listen again. At first, nothing came out of the phone's speaker. Silence.
Then, out of a sudden, an audibly angered voice spoke. 'You've gone too far, Amanda. One wrong step and it could end lethally. For all of you.' The caller hung up and Amanda sat in the leather armchair, grasping the phone and her knee hardly, the fire in the old fireplace reflecting in her eyes.

______________________3_______________________

______________________________________________

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3

Katherine sat up perplexly, looking to her side; it was exactly six-thirty in the morning and still dark outside—dusk. The sky was colored in a deep orange with blood-red highlights coming from the blood red sun riding heroically onto the sky.

She grabbed her politics book, making the window smash open by itself and took her beige black school uniform. standing up. Once she was dressed in her uniform—a tight, long sleeved cardigan and a white shirt fitted with and elegant beige pants—she put her hair up into a ponytail with minimal effort and combed it back perfectly straight. When she entered the living room of flat number six, it smelled like coffee.

Amanda was reading the Main Daily newspaper and turned the page just when Katherine entered; on the high counter lay a plate with a piece of toast with cheese on it—her basic breakfast.

'Morning,' she mumbled and sat down on the counter chair, stuffing the raw toast into her mouth; a delightful feeling of familiarity.

'Good Morning Kathy. Look, I have to go soon. I think I actually found a decent job at Fletchers and Fletchers,' Amanda explained. Her hair was straightened, lips deep red but despite the pretty get up her eyes were still matte and grey-green rather than the nice and lively jungle green.

'You got a job?' The brown haired asked, whilst Amanda tried combing her hair with her thin and long fingers—there was no excitement in her voice.

'I hope so. Fletcher said it could actually work out,'

After a long break, in which no one said anything, Amanda cleared her throat.

'Have a good day at school, yeah? I have to leave in —oh!' She jumped up from the table.
'FIVE MINUTES!'

Once Amanda left and Katherine finished the toast, she grabbed her bag and her jacket, heading for the bus stop ten minutes away from block number three.

'Good day, Katherine!' Old Randy said, winking and waving, as the door fell closed again revealing even colder weather than yesterday.

Katherine walkef to the Fieldway-Bridge tunnel that was pretty short, three or four feet long. On the other side lived mainly the homeless, who made stupid comments, cat-called her and even hindered her in getting through—never anything major, though.

She felt her knees tremble, as she got nearer to the tunnel.

Once she passed the blockhouses and the big office skyscrapers, she heard clattering of metal against metal. Katherine swallowed hardly, feeling oddly watched and uncomfortable, as she started walking slower.

The men that were making the loud noise, were by the start of the Fieldway-Bridge tunnel, banging two traffic signs against each other.

One of the men was broad and fat, while the other one was very thin and bony; only when Katherine got closer she noticed that they were singing or rapping, to whatever sounds they made, clutching their eyes close, as if it meant the world to them.

The shirt was ripped on the side of the fat one, whilst the other one's tank top was fluttering with the pace of wind blowing against it. They are different. Keeping her head down and jaw clenched she came closer and the noises stopped and to her horror, they were looking at her.

'Why are you laughing, aye?' One confronted her, starting to come closer. Katherine didn't look up, tending to her usual plan; ignoring them. Shouldn't that weird Richard have to be here?

'Have a penny for us?' A deeper voice asked, followed by a burp so loud and vivid that it made Katherine flinch.

'Why are you laughing?' The thin man yelled again, showing a few black teeth in his mouth, as Katherine looked up.

'I'm not laughing,' she said biting her inner cheek.

'Nah?'

'Nah.' Katherine imitated the thin man.

'Where ya' from, young girl?'

'Sexy girl,' the thin grinned and she felt her heart race again, pulling her jacket closer to herself. They are definitely different.

'Aye, what's your name?'

'Leave me alone.' Katherine said firmly and looked to the other side of the Fieldway-Bridge tunnel. 
A hand on her shoulder made her stop. 'Let go!' She said and winced as the grip got harder; she heard something rumbling and saw a few people looking at her from behind the rim of the tunnel—they looked confused. What was going on?

'Your name, sugar,' the thin demanded, while the fat started banging the metal rods against each other again.

Just then she realized, how comfortable she was with Richard calling her princess and how she lingered his somewhat firm touch. Immediately Katherine thought of the worst case scenario—rape and murder.

She shook the hand off her harshly and started pacing forwards. Suddenly, her heart sank, as she got pulled back; the thin man was pulling her back by the hair.

'You're so small—so vulnerable,' he said looking down at her. She stood still, not wanting him to rip out her hair. He looked back to look at his friend, and that was when Katherine took the chance of running.

She started wiggling and moved around hardly, getting out of the hard grip at first, but getting caught by the fat, who let the two signs drop on the floor.

'Where are you going, sugar?' He asked, imitating the thin. Since when do they get this aggressive? Usually they let go after the first 'stop'.

The fat man was way stronger and more unsure than the thin one. Katherine watched the hideous smelling man that pulled her by the hair.

'You smell so good . . . will you let me use your bathroom?' The low and rough voice said.

Again, Katherine felt watched and it probably were the women and children who watched the two men in suspense, peeking out from behind the tunnel.

'Let go of me and— '

'And what, sugar?'

'I'll let you use my bath,'

She had planned how to get out; lying and then just full on sprinting . . . She felt the sweat dripping down her temple.

A bright and devilish smirk spread on the thin man's face.

'Liar, liar, sugar — ha! Brody, ya hear that? It rhymed!' The thin said to Brody, who was chuckling, pressing his fat belly against Katherine's bag.

'It didn't rhyme.' Katherine said subdued and the smirk disappeared from the thin's face. Brody also stopped chuckling—a name she wanted to forget as fast as possible.

'Excuse me?' He asked, stepping closer.

'It—It didn't rhyme. Liar doesn't rhyme on sugar.'
One look to the right showed the school bus filling in at the bus stop. Her heart pounded again. 'Look— let me out and I swear, I'll—I'll do whatever you want,' she pleaded and the smirk appeared again, The thin looked into the direction of the bus.

'You need to go to school, eh? I like school girls—'

'Whatever we want?' Brody asked dumbly.

'Yes,' she answered sharply. 'Also . . . also a bath?'

'A shower.' she responded sharply again.

'Carl—a shower!' Brody said to the thin; Carl. 
'Brody! Concentrate! No shower for you!' Carl hissed and eyed him angrily, warningly. 'Concentrate.' He added and Brody let go of Katherine in a sudden.

'It's more than he can offer us. I haven't had a shower in, like, five years!' Suddenly, Brody had become angry and resistent to Carl's demands.

'Grab her, man!' Carl hissed and stepped closer; but Katherine was already full on sprinting along the scared women and children towards the bus stop; her feet were hurting, her lungs were burning and her head was hurting—fresh field air came into her face as she ran towards the green and orange bus stop sign.

Not looking back, she threw herself into the backseats of the bus, driving off immediately. Her eyes were pinched closed, as she panted for air.

Almost everyone in the bus looked at her weirdly, as if she were a schizophrenic.

She felt like crying, but suppressed it.

'What happened to you, Kathy?' Someone asked and Katherine looked up. No one else but Ricky Blackman stood there; a sector 5 born boy with wealthy parents who thinks that he's better than everyone else.

'Katherine.' She corrected him coldly as she pressed herself back against the chair, still breathing irregularly.

'Why so late?' He asker, amused.

'None of your business.' She felt anger take over and her nails dug into her palm satisfyingly. A tear escaped her eye, as she felt Carl's hands on her. She wiped it away and looked Ricky right into the face.

'As if I really cared.' More people echoed his laughter and made Katherine's ears additionally turn red.

'Well, you asked,' she answered back sassily.

'Blushing but still a big mouth—oh wait! Am I making you blush? Do you finally have a crush on me? Hear that guys? The last girl in school to—'

'Ricky, I loathe you still.' Katherine grunted. 'What was that?' The dirty blonde asked, smiling and revealing white, perfectly straight teeth. He stood up, striding towards her dangerously like a lion.

'Will you PLEASE SIT DOWN!' Someone yelled from the very front of the bus. The bus driver threw them an angry glare, making the bus drive unevenly from left to right.

'A'ight, a'ight,' Ricky said and chuckled, slopping himself beside one of his friends, looking back once again. 'We're not over, Williams.' 

School was boring—just as always, and PE was the worst. She got changed into her track clothes and went outside, shivering from the frigid air.

They ran four rounds around the track field and didn't even get a drinking break.

Besides, they got a big pile of homework; two essays each with the minimum of 3000 words.

After PE—a failure for her, as Coach Hanson, a man in hid early forties, voice like a drill instructor, had openly announced— she went into the cafeteria and bought an apple juice pack and milk rolls with cheese on them: autumn break was officially over and so was the time of employment for the very nice cafeteria woman, Rosemarie Lutcher.

A nice, warm-hearted, white-haired, cat loving woman, with barely one wrinkle on her face, even though she was sixty or seventy years old.

She always wore a pink lipstick and sometimes gave Katherine a discount on the 'scholar-pack' food; Milk rolls with cheese and apple juice.

Today, there was another old woman standing behind the register, way smaller and with a cold, wrinkly face. She looked grumpily and annoyed by everything, smashing the apple juice onto the counter.

After paying, Katherine went outside, enjoying the silent and peaceful landscape; the trees were half-dead, red and brown leaves covering most of the floor and the field of wheat short shorn.

Right beside one of the trees was a pumpkin and aubergine field making it look more and more like Halloween—it was getting closrr

Katherine sat down on the steps descending into the front yard of the big school, enjoying her milk rolls and the silence when there was a loud uproar of car engines.

Everyone looked to the right, where a black car was racing along the loose pebble, leaving behind a big, grey cloud of dust.

Katherine's eyes trailed after the car suspiciously, biting off another piece of the milk rolls.

She stuffed the plastic package into her bag, looking down, but jerking up again because of the of engines stopping right in front of the school this time.

When the dust cloud disappeared, she saw a window rolling down—her ears went crimson and her eyes widened.

Richard was scanning the yard, gaining smirks from girls in grades above Katherine's.

Richard did look very attractive.

When he saw Katherine and their eyes met, she sipped her apple juice, as if in a contest. Why was he here? She asked herself and didn't intend on standing up.

He honked once.

He honked twice.

He honked many times after each other. 'Katherine! Move it' He yelled, leaning out of his window.

Embarrassed and annoyed, Katherine grabbed her bag and started pacing towards the Mercedes she just too well recognized.

She got angry and jealous looks from girls all over the yard, ignoring them.

'What are you doing here?' She hissed, leaning down to the window.

'What does it look like?' He raised an eyebrow.

'I'm taking the bus.'

'No you're not, get in,' he tipped against the leather covered steering wheel with the tips of his finger impatiently.

She frowned at him, looking to her left; the orange bus was arriving and the bus driver didn't seem too pleased to see another car standing in its way.
HONK!

'Get in!' Richard demanded angrily and Katherine blushed again, as the staff's room window opened and a teacher looked out annoyed.

She slammed the door shut, and let herself sink into the hard, brown leather, re-living the moments of the morning.

Richard looked at Katherine as he drove; she had her shoulders and legs tensely pulled together and had her jaw set—and then he put his big hand onto her thigh, tensing up, too.

That was the touch she lingered. Better than getting grabbed, she added.

Her eyes shot to him, as he stared at her intensely, trying to figure her out.

He licked his lips and seemed to want to say something, but he just squeezed her thigh, leaving Katherine confused.

His warm touch still remained remembered by her skin. 'What was that for?' She asked and he shrugged indifferently. 'My apology.'

'For?'

He didn't answer.

The pumpkin patch fields were drifting away into a yellow field of dying wheat; here the wheat was tall, clouds drifting over the blue-grey sky.

'So. . . what are you, now? Are you my lap dog?' She asked. Richard frowned. 'Absolutely not. Have you ever heard of the term 'bodyguard'?' He eyed her, watching her smile amused. 'You can't be serious—'

'But I am. I'm here to protect you.'

'That's a new one,'

'Obviously, you've never faced real danger, but in case for that I have my baby.' He motioned towards his waist, where in a holster hung his pistol. 'I don't need protection because there is no danger is London,' she answered back. 'I may have a theory about some dangers. Your loony mom being one,' he said through clenched teeth.

Katherine gasped and turned to Richard. 'Excuse me? My mother is not a lunatic, she portrays no danger.' She answered calmly, wondering why he'd said that. 'Hm.'

'Know what? I'd love to hear your theory,'

'Absolutely not. She is not the woman you think she—'

'I know, right?' Katherine leaned forward and put her legs under herself, feeling more comfortable now. Richard looked at her alarmed. 'She's working. Hell, I didn't see that coming in a hundred years!' She added and Richard sighed, as if a weight dropped off his chest.

'Yeah, Brad told me quite a bit about her.' He answered carefully.

Katherine looked out, sighing. 'Any news on the group of eastern bas guys?' She asked and Richard looked at her doubtfully. 'Didn't I tell you not to talk about them anymore?'

'Didn't I make it clear that I don't listen to you?' Katherine's eyebrow shot up and they stared at each other in enmity again. 'Fine. But I won't say anything about them.' He looked to the front, the way in between the wheat seemingly endless.

'How'd you know where my school was, anyway? Don't you have hobbies?' Katherine asked a little irritated by his secrecy.

A chuckling came in response. 'I have a job, and that is you. And your father knows everything about you. How'd you reckon I knew your birth date?' He asked,
smirking.

'Because you're a creep?' Katherine said, as if it was obvious.

'You call me a creep?'

'Yes?' She looked at him, snorting.

'And what'd you call the men this morning—' He stopped himself, but the damage was made.

'What?' Katherine frowned, her lips slightly parted, looking at Richard, whose face seemed to indicate that he said something he shouldn't have.

'Do you mean . . . How the hell—How do you know about that?'

She asked confused, and also looked to the front.

'You didn't make them do what they did, did you?' She asked even more confused. 

'I—no, we monitored you . . . kind of,' he stuttered trying to explain.

Katherine pulled her eyebrows up, gasping. 'You what?'

'So that means that you could've helped me!' She added angrily.

'And you didn't! You probably watched, smirking at those men trying to possibly rape me!' She half-yelled accusingly, balling her fists again, slamming her bag onto the floor that until now had rested peacefully on her thighs.

'We didn't make them do anything. They were sent there, you probably noticed them being different, the other homeless being afraid.' Richard started and Katherine looked out her left window, not really acknowledging anything, black in front of her eyes of anger.

'We tried to get intel on who sent them, and we did. Thanks to you, we're closer to finding out things about the group.'

She shook her head. They were using her. As a bait! 'Who are "we"?' She asked angrily. 'The others here on the mission.'

'What god damned mission, Richard?' She hissed and Richard drove over his stubble, troubled if he should talk or not.

'The eastern group. They were spotted here and—'

'What? And you still used me as a bait? Knowing how dangerous they were?' She yelled now.

'Katherine, we—'

'You know what, Richard?' She hissed, clutching her bag, tears filling her eyes. No. She couldn't cry in front of him. That would be a weakness she didn't want to show.

'Stop talking and drive.' Richard accelerated.

She didn't remember entering the city because she was sunken into her mind, which was better, because she could avoid useless and mind-racking conversation with Richard.

When they arrived in front of block number three after a silent car ride, Richard finally unblocked the doors and Katherine unbuckled her seating belt, opening the door, slipping out—and that all in a fast and fluid move.

'And for your information, Katherine. I would have wanted to help—and I'd never smirk at something like that.' Richard said, sounding a bit pissed, pulling the door shut by himself and driving off almost at the same time. Katherine stood on the pavement, staring after Richard. Of course she knew he hadn't smirked, but he could have done something.

When Richard Gazer reached his apartment—the one that Brad Williams got for him in the Private Sector—he threw his car keys onto the table. It was only the second day in London and he already felt homesick to the glamorous night life in NewYork and the freedom of America.

He looked at the beige file laying on his table. When he opened it, for the tenth time that day, he was opposed to two pictures. A young, brown haired girl holding her mothers hand when at the supermarket and an older girl that looked tired, wore a school uniform and had her hair combed up into a perfect ponytail.

     On top of the file stood a name. ᴋᴀᴛʜᴇʀɪɴᴇ ᴡɪʟʟᴀᴍs.

How? He thought and looked out of the window, remembering her lifelessness when talking with him.

How could something like this be happening to someone like her? 

______________________4_______________________

______________________________________________

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4

     As darkness filled the outside Katherine had lit the fireplace, crackling with good-smelling firewood. She stuck her tongue out, whilst perfecting the end of her essay.

    After finishing, she grabbed her next assignment; Macbeth by William Shakespeare. When she grabbed the old book from the small shelve between the kitchen counter and the fireplace, something else fell down; hidden in the dusty darkness of the never-used books was a small note, written in Amanda's curly and almost unreadable handwriting.

       Whitewood Manor, apartment twenty-one, Melanie Gazer.

        Looking at the note in confusion, she tried figuring out where that was and when she remembered that the only place where the estates were called 'Manor' was the Private Sector.

      The question now was, why her mom had that—and who was Melanie Gazer? Then it hit her. 'Ah, good to see you, Mister Gazer,' had the eerie James waiter said, in front of Heathers kitchen.

     Maybe Richard's mother—or wife? Or sister?

     Katherine frowned ever harder. Why did her mom know his family? When the doorknob turned and Amanda came in, she put the note into Hamlet and looked at Amanda.

   She was still dressed in her blue and white typical Fletcher's and Fletcher's uniform, looking tired.

    Fletcher's and Fletcher's was a small company that supported the safe and clean keeping of the city, and a well-paid job with many posts. Amanda let down her hair from the neat bun she had made, revealing her curled hair.

    'How was school?' She asked and filled herself a glass of water.

    Katherine was about to tell her how she got approached by two dangerous men that pretended to be homeless men, who actually wanted to kidnap her—and how Richard and the 'others' on the 'mission' were watching and using her.

   Then she was about to tell her everything about the eastern group that may cause a war.

   Then she thought of the feast of victory and about how Richard told her to keep quiet.

   'Okay.' She just said, shrugging along with it.

   'Sounds good. Well, my day was also good! It was great, in fact! Fletcher said he'd put me up as a park-supervisor, which means that I have to clean up the fountain-square, take care of the sculptures not getting vandalized and so on. Why, I'm hungry! You too? Let's order some pizza—or better, let's go to the market and buy something yummy!'

    Katherine smiled tensely and looked at Hamlet but actually thinking of the note.

    'Oh come on, reading's for later, Kathy!' Amanda's voice was filled with excitement

    Exactly these types of spontaneous decisions made Katherine love her mom, kind of forgetting about everything. 

The next day rose just as fast as the other one had ended. At six-thirty Katherine's alarm clock rang, but Katherine lay awake for over half an hour already, as her mother's ear penetrating alarm clock went off at six o'clock.

   Grumpy about the early waking up, she stood up, already dressed in her uniform.

    After a few minutes of walk, the Fieldway-Bridge Tunnel came into view. The atmosphere of the Tunnel was different; something had changed, though her knees still felt weak. They are gone, she told herself.

   And indeed, there were no thin and thick men, called Carl and Brody, banging metal against each other. In fact, it was cleaned up—Completely cleared up.

   There were no usual heads sticking out, looking at Katherine as she got to the Tunnel.

   Suspiciously she stopped and eyed the tunnel; completely cleared. She advanced through it.

   Once she reached the other side, she was greeted by someone arguing with someone else, beside the entrance of an office skyscraper, on the same level as the tunnel.

    'Yes. I understand. No. No, of course not! But leader—Okay, okay! I won't tell her.' Silence.

    The raspy and low kept voice stopped talking, letting only the voice pounding through the phone sound into the day.

    'Ask her to the feast—what? No. I can't.'

    A loud and muffled sentence.

    'All right. I will. What's in it for me—'

    He didn't talk after that. 'Yes. I do understand. Actually I do perfectly well—yes, yes! I will.' He said sassily and hung up. Katherine paced forwards, acting as though she didn't just stop to listen to what the man had to say—she couldn't deny, but that voice was highly attractive.

    What was it, that she had with attractive man-voices.

   'Hey princess,' someone said with a rough and young voice right behind Katherine—she shivered up and down her spine, turning around with a gasp of shock.

   'Richard!' She groaned, as she saw Richard casually standing there. She cast a look behind him, to where a man was talking on the phone—he was gone and she realized that it was Richard who was talking on the phone.

   He should ask her to the feast? Were they talking about me?

   'What—what are you doing here?' She asked, looking to her left for reassurance that no one was coming towards her.

   'Well, let's say it this way—orders over orders,' he sighed as though it was a tough thing to do: follow orders.

   'Can these orders contain you not following me everywhere I go?' She scowled at Richard and then turned her back towards him; the air was ay better now, than before, finally smelling like the field air.

   'Nope, they can't, sadly.' The blonde was still following Katherine, and the stiffness in his voice was clearly audible.

   'And what do the orders say?' Katherine rolled her eyes in a subtle way. 'They tell me to follow a small and pretty—' He cut himself off, clearing his throat. Pretty.

    Suddenly her knees were weak. She had never really been called pretty by anyone. Her eyes jumped to him and her lips were parted shocked.

   To her surprise Richard was staring at her, too, his grey eyes darkened and cutting right through her pair of eyes.

    'Geez calm down, prin—' He left his mouth opened and then closed it harshly.

    'A small girl with brown hair and brown eyes who complained about not getting helped yesterday and annoying.'

    He smirked and Katherine didn't want to listen to him; she tried ignoring his penetrating voice, letting it come in on her right ear and letting it fly out of her left ear, but his words gut stuck in her mind, just like everything he said.

   The calling her pretty-moment was over as fast as it began, but it wasn't left unsaid and the word still had a mark on her knees.

     'What, has no guy ever called you pretty?' Richard suddenly asked startled.

      Katherine opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again.

       'Oh.'

     'Yeah, it's not common to get called pretty when you're the daughter of someone who robbed them of their freedom.' She retorted and Richard didn't answer.

   'And for your information, I didn't complain. It was one hell of a situation and I mean, you stick to my ass wherever I go, but never in the right moment. Jesus, just get run over a bus!'

   Richard chuckled. 'It's complicated—'

   'Yes, I've noticed how everything is complicated. The eastern causing trouble in the west, the feast of victory—your presence, your orders. . .' She counted aloud and Richard suddenly stiffened.

    'Don't ever talk about the eastern here. Never ever again, do you hear me?' He hissed angrily and stopped.

     'No I don't hear you. I want to know more, or else I'll talk more freely about this with others.'

    'I'm not telling you anything, if you don't tell me the source of your information. Must be quite trustworthy.'

     'Yes, the source is and so am I.'

    'I take this as a no, you won't tell me anything,' She nodded.

    'Fine. My info for yours. A fair trade, Katherine.'

   She looked at him and started walking, her arm and shoulder touching his big biceps, giving her a feeling of safeness.

'Fine. I go first.' She insisted and Richard looked at her doubtfully. 'Who is Melanie Gazer?'

As soon as the words were spoken out, Richard stopped and looked at her horrified. 'What did you say?' He asked, still in shock.

'Mel—'

'How do you know her?' He asked and closed his mouth; it had hung open.

'Katherine!' He said angrily.

She backed away from him, as he was shaking. His fists were balled and he radiated anger and confusion. He looked like could jump her at any time. Katherine cursed herself; she knew something was off.

'I found a note in the back of a shelve in our living room. Mind if you tell me how my mom knows her? Is she related to you? And do you know my mom—'

'Enough.' He said dangerously. 'Enough.' He added, calmer. The anger had vanished and his cooly expression was back on. 'I don't know her. I just thought that was what my cousin was called, but I had it wrong. She'a called Clara,' he shrugged.

Now Katherine was happy she didn't mention the address; maybe it was where that Melanie Gazer lives. She felt the urge to go and check it out later that day.

  'Oh, and since you're worrying about people so much, don't worry about the homeless—they've been taken care of,' Richard whispered into her ear in a sore and raspy voice.

   She gasped.

  'Where are they? Who took care of them — what happened to them?'

    'I said they were taken care of. The rest shouldn't bother you, should it?.'

   'There were kids, you know? Mothers. Not all of them were like the two scumbags yesterday. What did you do to them, Richard?'

    'Woah! Why the hell are you accusing me of this again? I, as a matter of fact, didn't do anything. Your father!'

    'Let me guess! My producer hushed them away into a different area, just so they can't offend me Why would he do that? After sixteen years? I mean come on, Richard.' She rolled her eyes and grabbed the straps of her bag.

    'They didn't quite hush them away, but that's none of your business.'

     'Quite frankly, I think you are no one to tell me what my business is!' She said loudly.

    'Brad did not know if the group smuggled more people in. So he had to make sure that they were all eliminated. See, nothing to do with you.' He explained.

    'By who were Carl and Brody—the two men— sent by? It's a male, apparently.'

     'What you have to worry about getting your bus on time and not about stupid shit,' Richard nodded into the bus stop direction.

Katherine saw that the bus was again waiting for her and looked at Richard darkly, for not answering her answer, running towards the bus

    She didn't say goodbye to Richard, neither did he; she hopped onto the bus, breathing lighter than yesterday, getting no glares today from other students.

   When she looked out the window, Richard was gone, but she still wanted him to be there. He had left a mark on her, and she didn't like that, did she?

Pretty.

   Katherine thought about what her father had done to the homeless people, but forgot about it once she reached school and lessons started.

   They were way more pleasing than yesterday's lessons.

   The teachers were checking if everyone had done their homework and, Katherine was the only one who had done the homework in Biology.

    'That's an A, Miss Williams,' Miss Kreach said and smiled tensely. Just as any teacher today, it was very awkward caller her 'Williams' due to the fact that Brad Williams would be visiting London in a couple of days.

   When the day ended, she spared giving away the five pounds she had taken from her mother's purse on the scholar-pack, instead sitting on the stairs in front of the school again, zipping the jacket up to her chin and staring out onto the fields again.

   She waited for most of the students to go their ways, taking the bus, watching three busses driving by, fully packed of students.

   Slowly, the school began to get emptier, except for the higher classes, who had their courses until three, five or six o'clock. She told herself that she wouldn't wait for Richard to put up his James Bond action and sighed disappointed, when she found herself subconsciously waiting.

   Not only disappointment, but also regret filled her bones; why did she even wait? 

   Once she was getting tired of waiting for nothing, she heaved herself up and decided to walk home, because she didn't have any other alternative; she'd on purpose missed three buses taking her just to the rim of the city, having to walk home now, because her James Bond didn't appear.

    It was a silent way and took her about twenty five minutes to get back to the Fieldway-Bridge Tunnel.

  When she reached it, it had started to get darker outside—she'd lost track of time. 

    There was a Main Daily flying around the tunnel, capturing Katherine's attention. She stretched her hand out to catch the loose papers flying around.

Luckily, she had caught the first half of page one: there was a big picture of a man with harsh and stern facial features, yet a friendly looking expression—he was smiling and standing on a podium, talking to people, probably holding a speech.

   Behind him, fifteen or twenty soldiers were stacked up, one beside each other, with each a very serious expression.

   The headline on the first page, under the picture, read: 

ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍs Fᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʀᴇᴜɴɪᴏɴ ᴏʀ Fɪɴᴀʟ ɢᴏᴏᴅ-ʙʏᴇ sʟᴀᴘ?
Secure sources tell us that the this-years  party of the decade—also known as the feast of victory—is being held in the infamous banking-capital, of taken over England, London.
There, people say to know the rest of the William's family to live. 
Why the leader —Brad Williams—chose that location is a mystery, but leads to maybe one conclusion: he wants to meet his family again; a reunion, perhaps? How would the now 16 year-old Katherine Williams and 45 year-old Amanda Williams react, when they find out about the feast? 
But, still, main question we have all been asking ourselves is; why did he leave behind his family in first place?

The rest of the article was ripped off and Katherine's irolled her eyes, throwing the article page onto the clean pebble way. First time in a long time reading the Main Daily and it was only trash.

As she walked back her normal way, she passed the ginormous block. On the top of the apartments stood 
ʙʟᴏᴄᴋ ɴᴏ. 3 in a big and black writing, but one probably noticed that it belonged into the first sector anyway.

Katherine felt somewhat excited, having recited the address tens of times. Whitewood Manor, apartment 21. She had been to the Private Sector once, when she was small and not again. She didn't even know what the security was like—would she even get in?

She looked down on herself, as she rushed across the Fountain Square, marking the middle of the first sector. Katherine ignored the statue of her father completely and walked into the second sector, that consisted of two big living blocks beside each other.

     They looked even worse than the single living block in the third sector. When she got to the first sector—the poorest—she felt something change in herself. She felt glad, glad that she lived in an apartment with furniture. Last time she'd seen a documentary about the sectors in school, she found that their apartments aren't just inhumanly small, but also stand empty.

    It took her about ten more minutes to reach the outskirts of London—the Private sector. It wasn't as guarded as Katherine had expected but it sure was a different universe: there were mainly houses, mansions and villas, taking up the most space.

     The gras was freshly mown and looked lively green, there were colorful flowers, pricey cars and even pools in the front- and backyards.

     Katherine remembered that she had to go to a checkpoint to register herself. Other than in the living blocks, where there was a registration desk, the Private Sector had an own registration block.

    She felt her palm sweat as she pressed the rotating door open, walking along with it until she reached the main hall: it was ginormous, the walls polished grey  marble with yellow lamps that looked victorian on the walls in certain intervals, the big chandelier in the middle of the ceiling and of course the seven desks, where stuck-up people sat, writing down the information.

     Inside the air smelled of firewood and woody cedar—something she had never smelled before.

     When she approached a desk that was free, the woman stared at her, not saying anything. Katherine smiled unsurely and was about to abort her mission and run back home, when the woman cleared her throat and smiled back.

     'Hi!' She said. 'Hi, um, I need your information on where you live, please.' She said. 'Right, I live in block number three.' She answers anxiously, expecting the overly excited woman to send her back—but she still acted as if on edibles.

     'Alrighty, that's it. I hope you have a good time in the Private Sector!' She said and just when Katherine turned around, a full Main Daily newspaper laying around caught her attention.

     Below the article that she had read were three pictures. One of Amanda, seemingly taken in secret, one of Katherine in her school uniform and one of Brad. She gasped when she saw him. He had aged, was the first thing she thought of; in comparison to the statue, where he has no creases at all, in the headshot he looked different.

     When she looked back, she saw how the receptionist that had taken her information—not her name, though—was taking to another young receptionist. They looked away when they saw Katherine was watching them.

     Ugh. Katherine thought and shook her head, heading outside. She recognized me—they did. Because I'm all over the cover of a completely over-dramatized english newspaper everyone read.

      Katherine escaped and headed right into the city, looking around amazed: it looked so different and neat. . . how would she ever find Whitewood Manor?

     She started doubting the whole mission. Maybe it was a bad lead, maybe it wasn't anything. Maybe her life was so boring that she imagined things—did the paper even read Gazer?

    Then again, Richards reaction was more than a clear 'I know her'. The way his walls fell down—she already now knew his weak point: family.

     Just when she was about to just go home and ignore everything, she saw a car. A very familiar car that had raced towards the London Secondary School: a black Mercedes. Maybe someone else had his car, too.

    When she looked closer at where the car was parked, she noticed that the big mansion beside it had a white metal plate on the house. It read ᴡʜɪᴛᴇᴡᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴀɴᴏʀ. Katherine did not know how to feel about that. Should her jaw drop that she actually found the manor after only five minutes in the middle of the labyrinth like streets of the Private Sector or should her jaw drop because Richard's car was there.

    Did he come to visit that mysterious Melanie he was so reluctant to talk about? She decided to go and find out herself.

    She opened the big double door was greeted by a soap-like smell. This building also was out of marble, just that the marble floor was light brown and golden checkered, with many yellow lamps on the walls.

    It looked deserted and weird with no reception at the entrance, but Katherine didn't want to spend too much time staring and walked up the grand staircase, that parted once to the right and once to left. On the right wall stood apt. 1-13 and on the left one apt 14–26.

    Melanie Gazer was apparently in apartment 21, so she sprinted up the left marble stairs, feeling oddly light.

    When she got up, she was faced with yet another three hallways, all looking the same—it was creepy how perfectly same they looked. After walking through the first one she noticed that apartment 21 was the last one through the third and last apartment.

    Her knees started to tremble as she came closer. Apartment 19. . . 20. . . When she finally reached what she had come from, she breathed in deeply. What should she even say?

    After getting her greeting and questions in line, she knocked once. No response; she knocked again. Why was Richard's car parked in front of—

    Before she could finish her thought, he opened the door, standing in it, his toothbrush falling on the floor. He blinked ten times at least to make sure he wasn't hallucinating and stared.

   Katherine looked from the bamboo toothbrush to Richard. He was completely wet, his hair and his body, a towel covering his man parts.

    She turned around and gasped. 'I—' She stopped herself and tried not to stare at his six pack again. 'Katherine?' He asked, picking up his toothbrush. 'What the fuck are you doing here?' He asked and stepped back.

     Katherine couldn't think.

   'I thought Melanie Gazer lived here. . .' She stuttered.

    'Melanie is deceased. A long time already and I don't see how you know this address! You shouldn't be out by yourself like that, especially when you're starring on the front page of the newspaper.' He said and drove through his brown-ish looking hair.

     'I missed the bus, so I would have had to walk all the way back anyway.' She explained.

     'All three busses? What did you do?' He asked and shook his head. 'I—doesn't matter. How do you know Melanie?' She asked.

     'Why do you suddenly care? Just go back, Katherine, I'm kind of busy.'

      'Honestly? I've just spend an hour getting here!' She whined and felt utterly stupid. And, very obviously, so did Richard. 'What do you want to do? Have a teatime?' He asked in a british accent, making Katherine cringe.

'Some water would be nice—'

'Listen, Katherine. I have to get ready to meet with a few members of the mission. You go back to your house, or else your mom will worry,' he said, sounding indifferent. Katherine rolled her right shoulder and sighed annoyed and disappointed.

She felt like slapping herself. How could she have been so stupid? Coming here. . . Wanting to stay. . .

'I'm sorry for bothering you, you're right.' She turned around and tried not to stomp away angrily. 'Wait.' Richard suddenly called and Katherine turned around.

'Do you like sparkling or still water more?' He asked and smiled lightly, opening the door further. Feeling a rush of adrenaline and excitement after all, she walked past Richard and into the modern apartment.

He had a panorama view onto the Private League and lots of plants standing around—cactus's and dozens of small palm trees.

'I like sparkling water.' She answered and continued looking through his living room. On the table lay a brown file, with a few colorful markings protruding out of the sides.

'What's this?' She asked and sat down, putting her bag down, and crossing her leg under herself. She grabbed the file but a second afterwards she was completely wet.

Richard had lunges forwards and grabbed the file; he had gone to change into grey sweatpants and a flannel shirt. He looked so different—like a normal guy.

'It's personal.' He said tightly and walked away, probably into his room. Katherine still sat there, wiping away the water from Richards hair, confused. What was that? He came back and brought Katherine her water.

'Since when do you live in London?' She asked and frowned; the apartment looked like a furniture store exposition. No dust, no personal items.

'Three days.' He answered, not sitting down. His arms were crossed as he tried to figure her out. Katherine nodded and looked away. In the near distance she could see a big park with green grass and many people walking around.

Mostly there were men and women dressed in their work attire: a white shirt, black pants.

'And how did you say you knew Melanie again?' Katherine asked. 'It's. . . complicated,' he cringed.

'Did your mother write down the name? With this address?' He asked, his eyes suddenly big. He was curious: for the first time he did not know everything.

Katherine felt like betraying her mom and just after having had a moment yesterday, she felt even worse. Richard waited expecting an answer.

She opened her mouth and stopped.

'Why does it matter?' She asked.

'It's even more complicated.' Richard walked to the other couch and sat down, lost in his thoughts: her cryptical answer was answer enough for him.

'I have to call someone. Stay here.' He hissed and jumped up, leaving for his room.

Katherine rolled her eyes and looked for something to do: but there was literally nothing. No games, no laptop; just the cactus-farm by his panorama window.

She decided to stare at the plants and looked at every single detail. What had she done? She had changed something—her mother seemed way more suspicious now for whatever. How could she even know Melanie or Richard Gazer? Katherine closed her eyes and in came Richard.

'We are leaving, and I'm moving out.' He said after fifteen minutes; he had changed into his suit, a small suitcase beside him.

'What?' Katherine asked. 'Why?'

'I'll explain on the way. I have all that's mine. Come on,' he hurried to the front door and held it open for Katherine, rushing down the two staircases and hurling out of the double door.

Katherine had a hard time catching up with him but when she got into his car, catching her breath, the breathlessness didn't end.

Richard revved the car and slid into the curve, driving off with a fast speed—was is the maximum? She didn't want to check. 'Woah! Richard you are going to get us killed!' Katherine said, her stomach emptying.

They got to the third sector faster than ever, with the houses and block all rushing by in a white-grey mash. He parked half on the pavement and half on the street, taking out a phone and typing in numbers.

'I just got to block number three,' he paused and meaningly looked up to the sign. The voice said something. 'Already?' He asked and closed his eyes. 'I'll get the files and I'm sending in Katherine.' He motioned for the door and Katherine obeyed without thinking twice.

  In comparison the the massive wood double doors, the push-open door from block number three was as light as feather. When she stood by the reception desk, she noticed commotion from inside the backroom of the administration counter.

   She stopped and leaned over the counter. 'Olf Randy?' She called out, looking to the small push-open door, considering opening it.

  'Hello?' She leaned back, walking to the side door, pushing it open.

  'Randy!'

A man in a black police uniform came out of the room, stopping in front of her. Turning pale, she looked into his eyes; he had his head tilted back, looking at her suspiciously.

    'Should you be in here, young lady?' Katherine slowly shook her head. 'I didn't think so.' He hissed and motioned to the push-open door out of behind the desk, but Katherine didn't walk off.

'Where is Randy?' She asked and wanted to walk past the policeman, but he grabbed her shoulder, pushing her back 'Mister Beck, you mean?' He asked, pulling up his eyebrow.

    'Yes, Mister Beck. Is he here?'

The policeman had his hands in the pockets that were just under his chest, making it look ridiculous—he turned around, motioning someone to come to the front. 

   'Kathy!' The eighty-something year old smiled and appeared beside two more policemen; all of them looked almost the same.

'It is not permitted to come here, Miss Williams, so I please you to—' The one with his hands up at his chest started with a grim look on his face.

    'Oh no, she actually can come here,' Randy said, smiling reassuringly at the small brown haired, as she looked quite intimidated by the policeman.

'We give the permission, not you, Beck.' One other policeman hissed.

   'Yes,' someone said in a deep voice, coming out of the door from the back room. 'Yes.' He repeated.

   'Miss Williams? Miss Katherine Williams?' The voice said again. 'Yes?' She asked firmly, noticing her hands sweating again.

    'Can we have a word?' The voice came from the backroom. The other two men ushered Old Randy to the side, making a free lane for Katherine to go through, but she felt uncomfortable.

   'Why don't you come out here? I'd rather not go back there.'

   'Miss Katherine, that was not a request, it was an order. Come here,' it said harshly but still polite. It was creepy and the whole thing didn't seem very good. Police in block number three?

   'Yeah well I don't take orders from unknown people.' The brown-haired said, wiping off the sweat from her hands, crossing her arms. A deep sigh—and one of the three present policemen grabbed her upper arm, ushering her into the backroom. When she entered it, still scowling at him, she saw the man standing with his back turned to her.

Where the hell was Richard?

The backroom was lit by three old lamps; it had a small red sofa, a desk and computer.

    The mysterious man's hands were crossed at the back, revealing one wrinkled and one pretty smooth one, with the skin of a new born baby.

   By the way the colours and the form differed she figured it was a prosthetic hand. He stretched it, tilting his head to the side, making it crack a bit. He continued doing the same thing to the other side of the neck and kept staring at the picture framed in front of him: an old oil painting of a red apple beside an old green-coloured linen-bound book. Katherine crossed her arms, trying to gather the courage to say something.

'Did you talk to Richard on the phone?' She asked in a wavering voice.

    'Your father told me all about you, but not how stubborn you were,' he said out of the blue, chuckling and completely ignoring her question.

It took a few seconds for Katherine to reply with a firm voice.

    'I'm not stubborn,' she straightening her back. The man chuckled again, turning his head to the side slightly. 'Of course, you aren't, sorry for the rudeness.'

   Katherine frowned. 'Who are you?' He turned to face Katherine and to her surprise, he looked quite normal in the face.

    The veins on his neck were blue and showing slightly as his chest rose and fell. His eyes were dark brown abutting to back, and his eyebrows were very bushy, almost touching in the middle.

   'You may not remember me, I'm a close friend of your father, also working partner. My name's Charles Thomas and I'm the head of the army enforcement.' He explained and tilted his head back.

'And I work with Richard, yes.' Charles Thomas added.

Katherine exhaled hardly. 'You are in on the mission? With the eastern group?' She asked and the chilled face of Charles Thomas fell into a surprised one.

'Excuse me?' He barked and even the police officers looked at him weirdly. 'You know?' Both Old Randy and Charles Thomas asked at the same time.

'I kind of forces Richard to tell me so, yeah, I know.' She answered weirdly. 'How can this affect the mission?' Randy Beck asked and Katherine gasped. 'You are in on it?' She asked and he nodded. ' What?' Katherine turned around to look at Richard.

'Guys,' he said and hurried the policemen inside.

'I think I just discovered the groups spy.' Richard's hair was almost dry and looked ruffles—and good. Katherine nodded hardly, crossing her arms. 'Who is the scumbag?'

'You mat not want to hear it, but—'

'Katherine knows enough! If you tell her now, them you will have to take her into the mission! WhenBrad sent me here he told me under no circumstances to let Katherine know!' Old Randy said angrily and Katherine's world spun. 'Brad sent you?' Again, they ignored her.

'You were the one that told her!' Richard said angrily, too.

'Madeline couldn't keep her divine mouth shut!' Randy blamed Madeline. 'Madeline Hall? The creepy woman?' Charles Thomas asked and stepped into the discussion circle. It was a very heated discussion.

'What the hell is going on?' Katherine asked, looking at Randy for reassurance.

'You tell her, Gazer. This is not my fault.'

'Oh yes, it is.' Richard snapped and turned to Katherine; everyone did. She was trembling, scared and angry at the same time. 'What is going on, Randy?' She asked quietly and Richard stepped closer carefully.

'Let's go. Let's get out of here, Katherine,' Richard said with an acid undertone, scowling at everyone standing in the small backroom. 'What—no! I want to know who the spy is—'

'I said no!'

It was the first time she had heard him raise his voice at her angrily like that. Sure, his tone was harsh almost always, but he had never verbally jumped her.

Katherine frowned, irritated. They were all talking cryptically, and it was annoying. 'Tell her, Gazer.' Randy demanded but the blonde guy shook his head once again. 

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