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queenofallhobos · 3 years

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Daisypool Chapter 15: Should've seen that one comin'

Explicit chapter, there is some sweet, sweet lovin' going on in this chapter.

Daisypool Masterlist

Ao3 link

“Moooooooooooooooooooooom!” A tiny voice yelled pulling me from my sleep just in time for the tiny human it belonged to landed on my back, knocking the wind right out of my lungs. Groaning I rolled over and pinned the little boy carefully under me with out putting too much weight atop him. “That’s funny, I could’ve sworn I heard Levi. Must’ve been my imagination so I’ll just snuggle right back into my pillows.” I said squishing the giggling blonde. “Momma, I’m right here!” He said, using his pudgy little hands to push on my shoulders. “Right where?!” I gasped looking around the room but making no move to free the squirming 4-year-old. “I’m right behind you! You’re squashing me!” He giggled managing to shove his sharp knee into my kidney, giving me the motivation to roll off of him. “OH! There you are Boogs. How did you sleep?” I laughed peppering his cherubic face with kisses feeling a sudden rush of affection for my child. As he rambled about the insane dream he had I couldn’t help but feel like something was off, that this had all happened before. As I stared into Levi’s bright grey eyes my heart clenched in my chest and a wave of loss and despair washed over me, I clutched my hand to my chest suddenly unable to breathe or see through my tears. Levi didn’t seem to notice my plight and was now talking about monster pancakes for breakfast. He turned his mega watt smile at me and suddenly it all came rushing back. The accident, waking up in the burning lab, meeting Wade and unintentionally copying his powers. This had been my last morning in that old life, before I could start making the pancakes the call had come in from work and I had dropped my little boy off with my mom. No goodbye hug or kiss in his anger at me, realization that was the last time I would ever see him again. His final words meant to hurt me as I had hurt him by leaving. I reached my arms out, desperate to feel his tiny body pressed against me once more, to smell the unicorn body wash he insisted on having that smelled like strawberry poptarts. Instead of grabbing hold of him my arms passed straight through his body. He smiled sadly at me and gave me a small wave. “Goodbye mommy, I love you.” He called as the scene faded to black, leaving me alone once more.

“Daisy!” I heard Pazit gasp over the sound of sobs. My eyes snapped open, not that it did me much good since I wasn’t able to see through my tears. I tried to tell her I was okay that I’d just had a bad dream but all that came out was a strangled sob. The bedroom door slamming open startled both of us and a black figure streaked across the room, gathering me in strong arms and legit growling at Pazit. “What have you done to Daisy, pantoran.” He snarled, pressing me against him with a bruising grip. “I didn’t do anything! We had fallen asleep, and she woke me up with her distress.” Paz said sounding near tears herself. “Is this true, wife?” Loki asked loosening his hold just enough to pull away in order to look me in the eye. Still unable to form words I nodded and nuzzled back into his chest, breathing in the fine Asgardian leather and a musky scent that was distinctly Loki. To my surprise his hand reached up and began petting my hair soothingly. “I think you should leave now.” He said coldly, prompting a sharp poke from me though I doubt he truly felt it through his armor. “Of course. I hope you are feeling better soon Daisy, I’ll be in my apartment if you need me.” Paz said, hurt apparent in her tone. I nodded wordlessly, reaching my hand out to grasp hers for a moment before letting her get dressed and leave the room. For a while I sat and let my tears fall, enjoying Loki’s fingers softly combing through my hair until the tears had dried and my hiccups eased. “I had a dream, Levi said goodbye to me this time instead of giving me the cold shoulder.” I murmured, his fingers ceasing their movements momentarily as he thought of how to respond. “It is as you said, he is just a child and as such does not know how to convey his emotions properly. You know he loves you, but I am glad you got to hear him say the words you missed that day.” He whispered, kissing my forehead. “Me too…. Thanks for looking out for me, though you didn’t have to be so mean to Pazit.” I teased, looking up at him in confusion when he tensed. “I can tell what you had been up to before falling asleep… but what is she to you?” He asked avoiding my eyes and forcing all emotion from his face and voice. “She’s my friend, same as you.” Oh this was interesting… when I put him on the same level as Paz his nostrils had flared and irritation had flashed across his eyes before once more schooling his features. “Friend, of course. You seemed very friendly when I came in. Maybe I should have just allowed her to comfort you.” He sniffed trying to untangle himself from me. Unfortunately for him I had been anticipating it and began doing my best impression of a spider monkey. “But you do a much better job My Prince.” I told him, batting my eyes. When he only scoffed, I jutted out my lower lip and buried my face into his neck. “Please don’t leave me.” I whispered. He sighed and I felt him clench his fists, but he stopped trying to get me off of him. Now that I wasn’t distracted with keeping my spot on his lap I tangled his hair around my fingers and placed soft kisses up and down his throat until he relaxed his hands, settling them on my hips. “What do you need, Elskan?” He asked, his grip tightening slightly. “Just you, Sæti.” I replied before biting the spot just under his ear. Satisfied when his hips thrust upward, grinding against my ass I took my chances and pulled away slightly to look him in the eyes. With more grace than I could ever hope to possess, Loki flipped us so he hovered over me. Staring down at me contemplative for a moment as he let his fingers lightly trail along my side, coming to rest around my right breast, giving it a firm squeeze pulling a moan from my lips. I was practically panting as I pulled on his armor futilely, he pulled himself away and I let out a whine before I could stop myself, causing him to smirk at me as he banished the leather easily. I ran my nails along his newly revealed skin crying out when he rocked his hips forward once more grinding his cock against

my dripping slit. "If you need to stop-" "Loki shut up." I demanded as he dipped his head down and brought his lips to my inner thigh, lazily trailing kisses nearly where I needed him only to turn and repeat the same action on the other leg. "Loki please. I need-" He stroked a finger across my swollen lips grinning in satisfaction when I let out a wanton moan. "What is it you need from me?" He cooed biting the inside of my thigh, just below my heat. "YOU! I need you to stop messing around and fuck me!" I cried out trying to press my hips closer to his teasing finger, yelping when he placed a sharp smack to my pussy. "Patience." He laughed nuzzling his nose into my wiry hairs for a moment before firmly licking a stripe up my slit. Before I could react, he delved into my folds, licking and sucking as though he were tasting the finest wine. I was no longer able to think or speak, my body writhed as I moaned in ecstasy. My fingers wove their way into his hair once more and tugged occasionally to spur him on, not that he needed it. A coil I hadn’t felt in a long while began to tighten in my belly when he slipped one of his long fingers inside of me, twisting it and rubbing my spongy walls. A second finger joined the first after a while and I seemed to lose control over my movements, shaking my head and crying out when a third joined, the coil finally released and my legs clamped down on Loki's head my hips thrusting against his tongue as he drank as much of my essence as he could. My head was fuzzy and I felt light and floaty as Loki climbed back up to press a sloppy kiss to my lips. I offered him a sex drunk smile when he pulled back to line his cock to my entrance. Becoming impatient when he looked to me for permission, I grabbed his ass and ground myself against his tip, moaning in unison when the tip slipped inside. Slowly and carefully, he pushed himself forward until his hips became flush with mine, with a satisfied smile I grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss. He set a gentle rhythm, pressing kisses up and down my neck as my fingers dug into his back pulling him as close to me as I could. Once more the coil started to tighten and I reached around to pull his hand to my breast, feeling him smile against my neck. His talented hands squeezed and pinched my nipple while his mouth moved to cover the other one. A sharp bite brought tears to my eyes and I looked down to stare in awe at the god who was selflessly fucking my feelings away and felt a weight lift from my heart when he pressed his forehead to mine and slowly thrust into me. I lost myself in pleasure, listening to the erotic sounds of our ragged breaths and the obscene squelching noises as we moved against one another. The feeling of our release built steadily until we both cried out and fell over the edge into pure ecstasy, our arms wrapped around each other. Loki buried his head into my shoulder, and I petted his hair while he came down from our high. "Stay inside me, please." I gasped nuzzling the side of his face. He laughed and glanced up at me, a cocky grin spreading across his face when I whined as he ignored me, slipping out to lay down next to me. I reached my hand out to grab my underwear from the floor to clean myself, only for Loki to snatch them away and tuck them into his interdimensional pocket. "You are a menace." I laughed sitting up. "Come here, you. I wasn't done being held by you." I told him patting the spot next to me. "And you say I am the menace." He teased, pulling me to his chest and covering us both with the thin sheet. Draping my arm and leg across his body, I could feel indigestion setting in. I’d had a thing for Loki/Tom Hiddleston back in my old life, and after sleeping with him during the orgy it was easy to keep those feelings under wraps. We had essentially been given no choice but to attend the party and to participate, but just now… he had no obligation to burst in here to protect me, let alone stay and offer me comfort. Plus, if I thought the sex

during the orgy was good… Shit y’all. I think I’m falling for an alien Viking prince that I’m fake married to! Now what?

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underabr0kensky · 7 years

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BIGGEST GODDAMN SURVEY EVER HOLY SHIT

1- How are you? Content I suppose.

2- Post a picture of yourself. I did yesterday you fuck, go look.

3- Do you ever wish you were someone else? Nah, I’d probably still be messed up as anyone else.

4- What is your entire name? Conner Wade Garcia.

5- How old are you? 24.

6- Age you get mistaken for: I’ve been mistaken for like 19.

7- Your zodiac/horoscope and if you think it fits your personality: Libra, and yeah, the stuff I see is usually fairly accurate.

8- What did you do on your last birthday? Worked, and then slept.

9- What is one thing you would like to accomplish before your next birthday? Uhh...maybe quit drinking?

10- What is your hair color? Dark brown.

11- Have you ever dyed your hair? I had a rat tail when I was like 12 that I dyed blonde.

12- What is your eye color? Hazel, sometimes gray.

13- If you could change your eye color, would you? I’d make them perma-gray.

14- Do you wear contacts/glasses? Yep, I’m fucking blind without my contacts.

15- Your opinion about your body and how confortable you are with it: Meh. It needs work. Fucking pudgy belly.

16- Have you ever considered plastic surgery? What would you alter about your body? Nope.

17- Say 8 facts about your body: That’s a lot, so I’ll say one: I have two scars on my right hand in almost the same place.

18- Do you have any tattoos? Not yet.

19- Do you have any piercings? Nope.

20- Left or right handed? I am a righty, not a subhuman Morlock freak witch person.

21- What’s your sexual orientation? Straight.

22- Do you drink? Yeah, more than I should.

23- Do you smoke? No.

24- Do you have any pets? I wish. I want a kitteh.

25- Where do you work? I don’t right now. I worked at Walmart til like a month ago.

26- Something you are working on right now: Cutting back on my drinking.

27- Do you have any “rules” about food? Nah, but there are some foods I just can’t stand.

28- Where are you from? Tennessee. Ew.

29- What would you say is your best quality? Uhh. I’m good at listening.

30- What do you think you’re really good at? Guitar.

31- What do you think you’re really bad at? Staying sober.

32- What talent do you wish you’d been born with? I’d be happy with not having been born with depression.

33- Are you a bad person? Well I mean I think I kind of suck, but everyone says I’m awesome.

34- Are you nice to everyone? I try to be.

35- Say 3 facts about your personality: I have a temper, I like to listen, and I doubt myself a lot.

36- Has someone ever spread a nasty rumor about you? Yeah lol.

37- What is your ideal bed? Why? A king bed with a curtain around it, because fuck anyone staring at me sleeping. Unless it’s my girlfriend.

38- Did you wake up cranky? Depends on how early I get up.

39- Do you sleep with a stuffed toy? Sometimes.

40- What do you think about the most? My mind is too all over the place for that.

41- Share 2 habits: Drinking and nail-biting.

42- What you want to be when you “get older”? Financially stable bruh.

43- What are your career goals? To not live paycheck to paycheck. And maybe to not hate my job.

44- What is your ideal career? Musician.

45- Is your life anything like it was two years ago? Fucking fuck no.

46- Do you replay things that have happened in your head? Oh yeah, that’s like 98% of my day.

47- Have you ever had an imaginary friend? Yeah, I have.

48- Say 10 facts about your room: I’m not gonna listen ten, but I have a bunch of band/music posters, there’s an electric drum kit in the corner, there are lots of dragon statues, there’s an Arcueid figure (Tsukihime for anyone who gets that), uhh...Borderlands 2 is paused on my TV right now. And there are many guitars.

49- Do you have any phobias? Spiders, needles, and fucking tornadoes.

50- Have you ever been to a psychiatrist/therapist? Yeah, both of them. The therapist stopped practicing which sucked and the psychiatrist was a Godfagging quack.

51- Are you allergic to anything? If so, what? Pollen, rabbits, pork, artificial green apple, cat dandruff, and goldenrod. And amoxicillin.

52- Ever broken any bones? Nope, and I have no idea how.

53- Ever come close to death? Yeah, a couple of times.

54- Things you like and dislike about yourself: Uhh. I like my looks for the most part and my musical talent. Hate pretty much everything else lol.

55- A random fact about yourself: I can curl my tongue. Helps me play the harmonica.

56- What are three things most people don’t know about you? I’ve kissed a guy before, I cry a lot for a guy (or for a person, probably), and I like anime a lot. Specifically stupid slice of life shit and shonen.

57- An unknown fact about your life: Uhh. My stupid fucking taskbar can’t be right clicked. I hate Windows 10.

58- Share something about yourself others might think is weird: I like being choked and slapped in bed.

59- Five weird things that you like: Fried calimari, pineapple on pizza, Wendy’s fries dipped in their chocolate shake (thanks Jess), classical music, and getting drunk outside.

60- Do you have a facebook? If so, would you add the person who sent you this? Yes. And nobody sent me this, I just fill these out as surveys because nobody fucking responds if I just reblog it.

61- Do you have any pictures on your Facebook? Yeah, but they’re not recent. I’m not really active on there anymore.

62- Describe yourself in one word/sentence: Fucked up.

63- A quote you try to live by: “I choose to live rather than just exist” comes the closest, but I’m doing a terrible job of that lol.

64- Leave me a compliment: Uhh. Anyone who reads this, you’re pretty.

Favorites

65- What is your favorite thing to do? Play guitar or listen to music. Or, lately, play Borderlands 2. The DLC is poppin’, yo.

66- What’s your favorite color? Black.

67- What’s your favorite band/singer? Favorite band is Children of Bodom. Favorite singers are James Hetfield, Marc Hudson, Howard Jones, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, Elvis Presley, Anders Fridén, Matt Heafy, Warrel Dane, Amy Lee, probably others I’ve forgotten.

68- What’s your favorite movie? That’s hard. Goodfellas, the Godfather Part I and II, 300, both Avengers movies, Captain America: Civil War, Titanic, Hesher, and Good Will Hunting are some of my favorites.

69- What are your favorite books? The Wheel of Time series, Bag of Bones, the Harry Potter series, The Way of Kings, Words of Radiance, Penpal, Shout!: The Beatles in Their Generation, A Painted House, Jurassic Park, Black Lightning, shit I have a lot more.

70- What is your favorite quote and why? The above quote, because it represents what I wish I could actually do. But ya know. Money.

71- What is your favorite word? Fuck.

72- What is your least favorite word? Money.

73- What is your favorite type of food? Italian food motherfucker. Specifically lasagna.

74- Your favorite ice cream? Heath bar.

75- What’s your favorite animal? KITTEH.

76- Dogs or cats? KITTEHS.

77- Describe your favourite texture: Uhh. Those really soft silky-feeling blankets.

78- What is your favorite flower? A BLACK ROSE EHHHH SO EDGY. Probably daffodils.

79- What’s your favourite scent? And on the opposite sex? The smell right before or after it rains. And on the opposite sex, whatever perfume they like.

80- What is your favorite season? Spring.

81- What are the top five places you wish you could go before you die? Venice, Berlin, Scotland, Norway, and that weird island with the dragon fruit and flat freaky trees that I’ve forgotten the name of and am too lazy to Google.

82- What are four things you can’t live without and why? Internet, phone, music, and cute animals. Because they keep me from fucking murdering myself.

83- Which mythological creature are you most like? Why? I have no idea but I’m gonna take a quiz right now, brb. Apparently I’m a goddamn unicorn, fuck.

84- What’s your favorite television show? House M.D.

85- Favorite place to shop at? Walmart. Fuck shopping bruh.

86- Say 2 facts about your favorite things: Uhh. One has strings and one lives in Germany.

Family, childhood and places

87- Say 4 facts about your parents: My dad is Spanish, my mom has depression, they divorced when I was like 11, and my dad is a medical professional.

88- Are you more like your mom or your dad? I think I’m like. Exactly equal to both of them. It’s frustrating.

89- Do you have any siblings? An older half brother, two younger step siblings, and two younger half brothers.

90- Say 9 facts about your family: That’s too many facts, die. My family is really big though and my dad’s side can speak Spanish.

91- What’s your relationship like with your family? Meh. Not great with my dad, my mom and I are fine though.

92- Say 7 facts about your childhood: There was a lot of stress and emotional abuse and shit. But it was also a better childhood than most people I think.

93- The best and the worst childhood memories: one of my favorites was when I got a PS1 for my birthday. Worst, I have no idea. Whenever my parents fought, which was a lot.

94- Say 6 facts about your home town: It’s tiny, it’s full of rednecks with fucking F10000 penis substitutes, it has a pretty chill as county fair. I know that’s only 4, fuck off.

95- Are you going out of town soon? Nah, I doubt it.

96- Where would you like to live? If I had to stay in America, California. If I could leave, I dunno, probably Norway or Sweden. Somewhere in Europe definitely.

97- What would your dream house be like? Victorian style please.

98- Where would you go on your dream vacation? Italy. I’d get banned from the country for eating all their food.

99- Where you want to be right now? With my girlfriend, or at a beach somewhere.

100- Top three places to visit: Venice, Berlin, Spain.

Friends

101- Would you ever smile at a stranger? Yeah, I do sometimes.

102- Do you prefer to be friends with girls or boys? Girls. Most of the guys around here act like douches and only ever talk about sports or fucking girls.

103- Who is someone you never tire of? My girlfriend.

104- Do you have someone you can be your complete self around? There are a couple of people.

105- Who is your most loyal friend? Phil.

106- Is there anyone you can tell EVERYTHING to? Mhmm. Three people.

107- If your best friend died, what would you do? Get horrendously drunk for days on end and snap at everyone.

108- A reason you’ve lied to a friend: No idea. Probably because I didn’t want to leave my house or something, lol.

109- Have you ever felt replaced? Yeah, sometimes.

110- Say 5 facts about your bestfriend(s): Too many facts. But he is a drummer and he likes roleplaying games.

Relationships

111- The last person you hugged? Not a fucking clue. Sasha I think.

112- Who was your first kiss with? Girl named Jessica. It was in the garden section at Walmart lol.

113- Do you like kissing in public? I fucking love it.

114- Have you ever kissed someone older than you? Yeah, plenty of times.

115- You have a preference for boys or girls? Girls pls.

116- Is the male or female body closest to perfection? I don’t think anything or anyone is perfect, but I prefer the female body.

117- Do you believe in love at first sight? Nah.

118- Do you believe in soul mates? Maybe. I didn’t used to but now I kinda do.

119- What is your idea of the perfect date? I don’t really care honestly. Just something cute and romantic.

120- Based on past relationships or crushes, describe your perfect boyfriend/girlfriend: I like someone who I can talk to and not get bored of, someone who can keep up with my weird thought processes, and someone who doesn’t mind me being a kinky fuck.

121- What is the first thing you noticed in someone? Eyes or face in general, usually. Unless they’re wearing a crazy outfit or something.

122- Are looks important in a relationship? Yeah. They’re not the most important thing but I have to be attracted to someone.

123- What’s the most superficial characteristic you look for? There’s not really an external characteristic someone needs to have for me to like them, but I love red hair.

124- What’s your opinion on age differences in relationships? No biggie as long as it’s not like a 26 year old dating a 13 year old or something. My ex and I were five years apart.

125- Would you ever date someone off of the Internet? Hahaha. The only two serious relationships I’ve had were on the Internet.

126- Five guys/girls whom you find attractive: The girlfriend, the ex girlfriend, Emma Watson, Olivia Wilde, Mila Kunis.

127- Do you have a crush on anyone? It’s a bit more than a crush.

128- A description of the girl/boy you like: She’s hot as fuck yo. Hotter than you. :D

129- Say 1 fact about the person your like: She has facial piercings and she always loses :P

130- If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say? “Can I meet the body I mean person?”

131- When was the last time you told someone you loved them? Whenever I sent the girlfriend the last message lol.

132- Do you think someone has feelings for you? I know she does.

133- Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? Probably. Ew.

134- Have you ever cried over a guy/girl? You could say I make a habit of it.

135- Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have? Who hasn’t?

136- Anyone you’re giving up on? Nah. Probably should be, but nah.

137- Have you ever liked someone you didn’t expect to? Yup.

138- Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated? Yeah, the girl I dated throughout high school was kind of a cunt to my friends.

139- Have you ever liked one of your best friends? Yup.

140- Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you? Mhmm. Scary thought haha.

141- Is there a boy/girl who you would do absolutely everything for? Yes.

142- Is there someone you will never forget? Absolutely.

143- Say five ways to win your heart: Babble at me in a foreign language, cook me Italian food, introduce me to your cat, leave big ass scratches down my back, or act like a sappy romantic fuck.

144- What turns you on? Slapping, choking, hair pulling, biting, scratching, moaning, hard tongue on tongue kissing, girl on girl. I’m a guy. Eat me.

145- What turns you off? Bitchy people and close-minded bigoted fucks.

146- What is the sexiest thing someone could ever do for/to you? Jerk me while you whisper about fucking a girl into my ear and don’t let me cum until you say so. It has been done to me and it was fucking awesome.

147- What’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you? Probably when I found out Jess had started a separate bank account and was funneling parts of her paychecks into it to help me financially when I moved up there. Nice job fucking that one up, Conner.

148- What’s something sweet you’d like someone to do for you? Honestly I don’t care at this point. Just love me lol.

149- Have you ever written a song or poem for someone? Have you had one written for you? Yes, and no actually.

150- What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone? Woke Jess up while she was clearly having a nightmare and held her hand until she calmed down.

151- Are you in love? Yes.

152- Are you in a relationship? Yes.

153- If you have a boyfriend/girlfriend, what is your favorite thing about him/her? She’s a fucking dork and I love it.

154- Are relationships ever worth it? Yeah, they’re just hard.

155- Is there someone mad because you’re dating/talking to the person you are? I don’t think so.

156- Can you commit to one person? Mhmm.

157- Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat? Yeah, I’ve done it plenty of times lol.

158- Do you ever want to get married? Yes.

159- Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years? Maybe. Hopefully.

160- Future names of your children: I do not want kids.

161- Do you get jealous easily? Yeah. Not like possessive jealous, but it’s pretty easy to make me jealous.

162- The last time you felt jealous, and why? I have no idea. Probably when my girlfriend hung out with her shit ex lol.

163- What is your definition of cheating? Anything you wouldn’t want your partner finding out about I suppose. I guess anything past hugging/holding hands.

164- Have you ever been cheated on? Yes.

165- Do you forgive betrayal? Eh. I probably would even though I shouldn’t.

166- Have you ever cheated on someone? Not my proudest moment, but yes, I cheated to get back at her for cheating on me. It did not help.

167- Why did your last relationship fail? Because I was an asshole and I fucked it up.

168- Things you want to say to an ex: I am so sorry, it was entirely my fault, you did nothing wrong and I hope you forgive me.

169- A description of the person you dislike the most: Anyone who has dated my girlfriend. :P

170- If your first true love knocked on your door with apology and presents, would you accept? I would have no idea wtf she’s apologizing for, but yeah of course.

171- How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had? Not a clue honestly. A good many, but most of them haven’t been serious.

172- How long was your longest relationship? Almost 5 years.

173- You’ll love me if… You like musicians I guess?

174- Share a relationship story: Lol okay. So when I went to visit Jess, we went out for dinner with her roommate and her roommate’s boyfriend. And they all went to a super Christian private college. We were trying to keep our relationship sort of on the DL because the school was very gossip-y and Jess grew up in a town of like 700 people and her parents were ridiculous about her dating, much less dating a dude five years older that she met online. But anyway. We finished eating and we were all shooting the shit, and when we got up to take the dishes over to the little conveyor belt thing Jess and I kinda play-wrestled and I knocked a plate on her arm. And she was like “Look you made a mess on my hand” and without even thinking I said “Yeah, that’s what I do” without troubling to keep my voice down and winked like a dumbass. And she turned redder than a tomato and her roommate got this “OMFG” look on her face and Jess punched the shit out of my shoulder hahaha. Ahh. Good memories.

Music, movies and books

175- How often do you listen to music? Pretty much whenever I’m not watching a movie or playing a game.

176- What kind of music you like? I am a metalhead but I like everything.

177- Do you like to dance? I like to mosh.

178- What was the first concert/show you attended? Killswitch Engage with Parkway Drive, Escape Plan and Every Time I Die.

179- Have you heard a song that reminds you of someone today? Yeah.

180- Share a song that takes you to a certain memory in the past: “Hello” by Adele. Shit was always on the pop station that my ex and I listened to in SD.

181- A song that’s been stuck in your head: “Hoshi no Furumachi” by The Fallen Moon.

182- Put your music player on shuffle and write the first ten songs that play: Oh fuck off, fine. 1. Your Love Kills Me--The Veer Union 2. Everybody’s Trying to Be My Baby--The Beatles 3. Baptism -strings ver.-: Fate/Stay Night OST 4. Bang Bang--Jessie J, Ariana Grande and Nicki Minaj 5. What is Eternal--Trans-Siberian Orchestra 6. Big Girls Don’t Cry--Fergie 7. Space Room--Bruce Faulconer 8. The Gun Show--In This Moment 9. Shit Out of Luck--Foamy the Squirrel 10. Blaze Heatnix--Megaman X6 OST

183- A book you want to read/have recently read: I wanna finish reading Bazaar of Bad Dreams.

184- Describe your dream library: Just fucking packed with horror and fantasy and drama books. And biographies.

185- Last movie you just watched: Uhh...Pumpkinhead II: Blood Wings.

186- Do you like watching what type of movies? I love horror.

Situations and crazy things

187- You’re in a tattoo parlor about to get inked. What are you getting done? 7-star Dragon Ball on my shoulder.

189- What’s something you can see yourself going to jail for? Pirating too much shit. :P

190- If you could be any character, from any literary work, who would you choose to be? I wouldn’t. Becoming someone else would be shitty.

191- You’re given $10,000…under one condition:you cannot keep the money for yourself. Who would you give it to? My girlfriend probably. Then she could afford a plane ticket :P

192- If you had to go back in time and change one thing, what would it be? Don’t ask me that, I’ll get sad.

193- If you were an element on the Periodic Table, which would you be and why? Polonium. Because it sounds cool.

194- If you had to delete one year of your life completely, which would it be? 2016. It was shit.

195- You’re an Action Movie Hero. What’s your weapon of choice and the line you scream when defeating your arch enemy? Give me a badass sword. And I dunno, probably “I’ve got balls of steel”

196- If you could design an amusement park ride, what would it be like? Some bullshit crazy roller coaster that has a 1 in 10 chance of killing you.

197- What is the first curse word that comes to mind? FUCK.

198- What the last party you went to was… and when the next will be… Fuck parties.

199- Halloween costume idea? I was gonna be a Kroger bag for Halloween when I worked at Walmart.

200- What are you supposed to be doing right now? Nothing. I am ethereal.

201- Currently wanting to see anyone? Yes, always.

202- Why you follow me? I can’t, you’re a survey.

203- If you met me what would you do? Wonder how a survey was walking around.

204- Leave me a ridiculous question: Why are you so interested in me?

205- Leave me a cute message: Fluffy cats.

Opinions and beliefs

206- Is the cup half full or half empty for you right now? There is no cup. I smashed it.

207- Do you believe in fate/destiny? Nah.

208- What you wish for on 11:11? Happiness.

209- Do you consider yourself lucky? What’s your good luck charm? Fuck no lol.

210- Do you believe in aliens or life on other planets? Yeah, there’s no way we’re alone in this fuck huge universe.

211- What is your religion, if any? I am not religious.

212- Would you go against your moral code for money? Depends on which part of the moral code and the amount of money.

213- What’s more important to you:strength of the body or strength of the mind? Gimme dem moosels.

214- How important you think education is? If it’s a good education, very important, but the shit that passes for education in America is less important than deciding what kind of toilet paper to buy.

215- If you were the president, what would you do? Die of the anxiety and stress during my inauguration.

216- If you could change one thing in the world, what would you change? Money wouldn’t have turned everyone into a greedy cunt.

217- Is it the thought that counts? Or is that phrase circumstantial? Eh. Depends on the situation. Somebody with no medical training trying to save somebody who was injured and instead ends up accidentally killing them should have just kept their thoughts to themselves.

218- If you only had 24 hours to live, what would you do? Buy a plane ticket to Berlin.

219- Which movie character do you most identify with and why? Greg House. Because depression and alcoholism suck.

Feelings and Others

220- Are you a procrastinator or do you get things done early? I procrastinate procrastination.

221- Post a photo/draw a picture/write a poem (pick one) of a moment of personal significance: That is not happening, I am lazy.

222- Say 5 things you love unconditionally: The girlfriend, music, food, the Internet, and kittehs.

223- What motivates you in life? My girlfriend. Seriously if I hadn’t found her I’d be a puddle of vaguely human-shaped sadness on the ground.

224- Something that you’re proud of: I can play guitar.

225- Five words/phrases that make you laugh: “Look at this fucking bird making pasta. Just look at it for fuck’s sake”

226- Share the story of something that makes you smile: Watching all of the “Will it [insert food here]?” videos from GoodMythicalMorning with Jess. Fun nights.

227- Something you always think “what if…” about: You probably know the answer lol.

228- What was something you used to enjoy, but was ruined for you? What’s the story behind that? LotR. Because I watched them with Jess and now they just make me sad, stop making me think about this shit.

229- Describe one of the most awkward experiences of your life: When I tried to dance with my crush in like 3rd grade and had no idea wtf I was doing lmao.

230- Something/someone that you miss: THE GIRLFRIEND. WAKE YO ASS UP.

231- Are you over your past? Not entirely.

232- What is your saddest memory? When she broke up with me, what the fuck did I JUST say.

233- One of the hardest moments in your life: Holy fuck you’re doing this on purpose.

234- Is there something that happened in your past that you hate talking about? YEAH. AS A MATTER OF FUCKING FACT THERE IS.

235- What’s something you want to do that you’d be embarrassed to tell other people about? I wanna go to a vocaloid concert.

236- What was your most embarrassing moment? Fuck if I know. I embarrass myself a lot.

237- Share one of your fears/insecurities: I hate my nasty pudgy belly.

238- Something you’re currently worrying about: Getting a fucking job.

239- Have you done something you regret very much? Yes.

240- If you could take something back that you said or did, what would it be? I would take back what an asshole I was.

241- Does anyone hate you? Probably.

#personal #survey #about me #this fucking thing was huge #i did it over the course of like 3 days

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amganabcc-blog · 8 years

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Dita Versus The World

Monday, November 26

My 10th birthday is in a week, and everyone's acting weird. Like it's some kind of horror movie or a funeral or something.

Dita hated it when her dad did this to her.

“But I'm supposed to see the doctor, Kos—mom said I had an appointment at 4, and that you'd—”

“Well, the plans changed,” Kos enunciated loudly, making sure she understood his words were final. “You don't need to see no gov'ment doctor, anyway—it's just that pre-10 bullshit they started forcing on us a few years back... Your sister didn't have a doctor, and she did fine when her time came. Just the damn bigwigs sticking their noses into everything...” Her dad's voice turned into a grumble, blending with the whining thrum of the car's engine as they drove down the highway.

But Isabel doesn't think it's right, was what Dita wanted to say. But the last time she mentioned her imaginary friend to Kos, he slapped her so hard she saw bright fairies dancing around her head. Good thing spanking your kids ain't illegal, he'd often say.

Instead she stared out the passenger side window at the bleak landscape of abandoned housing and run-down businesses. Kos had taken her on many outings these past few years, and she was beginning to recognize certain landmarks. They seemed to be heading to the other side of the county.

“Where are we going?” Dita spoke softly, afraid to look at Kos.

He remained silent for a few seconds, and curiosity forced Dita to cast a sidelong glance. A devilish grin and a twinkle in Kos's eyes forced her to turn and question him with her face.

“I got a surprise for you—think of it as uh early birthday present.”

Dita narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. She didn't like surprises.

They continued driving down the nearly empty highway in silence, paralleling the raised track of the old light-rail train, unused for many years. The setting sun revealed just how old the omnipresent billboards were: dirty, tattered ads with public safety warnings about washing one's hands or wearing a mask around infected people. Dita was too young to remember the global pandemic named GP1—that happened even before the Swarm arrived—but evidence of its effects were hard to miss. Even for a girl with an invisible friend.

When they finally turned off the highway the first thing she saw was a church. What in the world are we doing here? Torn placards and other litter sullied the bushes in front of the austere building, the signs of a recent protest, and Dita realized it was a Church of the Swarm. She furrowed her brow, and knew without a doubt that Kos wouldn't be taking her to what he called The Temple of the Devil Bugs. She had never been to one, and didn't really understand what the Swarm was, but she imagined a colony of bees buzzing in the rafters of the church and stinging the worshippers below into a religious frenzy.

Halfway down the street, Kos turned left into a charging station, and then it started to make sense. His Jeep was an older model, a hybrid that required both electricity and biofuel, so he pulled up next to the pump.

“How is this a surprise?” she grumped as he turned off the engine. “It's not like I haven't been to a charging station before.”

Kos's expression was a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “Don't get mouthy, girl—this one's got a carwash.” He turned and got out to fill up his Jeep, shutting his door behind him and leaving Dita alone with her confusion.

“What's the big deal about getting your car washed?” she asked invisible Isabel, then peered into the charging station's convenience store. She couldn't see the store clerk, but she knew there must be one inside. Probably sitting behind the cash register, which was blocked from her view by a display filled with boxes of ammunition.

Her dad returned to the car and started it, grinning but not saying a word. He brought his Jeep around to the front of a building that at first Dita thought was a garage, then drove up to the entrance and waited for the clerk. Mechanical arms lurked in the shadows holding ropey constructions of various colors, while a grooved track in the pavement ensured no vehicle could escape the course laid out for it. Dita drew her feet up onto the seat and hugged her knees to her chest.

Kos rolled down his window and told the pudgy, dark-haired man who approached that he'd like the Super Eco-Deluxo Wash. After verifying Kos's receipt, the clerk turned to a small console next to the carwash entrance, put a key into a lock and pushed a button. Kos's Jeep lurched forward, and Dita couldn't stop a squeal from escaping her throat.

“Kos!”

Her dad laughed, rolling up his window as the Jeep was pulled into the dark chamber. Soapy jets of water hit the windshield with an exhilarating splash and Dita's eyes grew large.

“Oh, yeah! I forgot about these things! You took me once, when I was little, I remember now! I was scared of the big floppy tennacles...” Dita giggled as the mechanical arms extended their spongy mops onto Kos's Jeep and flopped around as they'd done before.

As the car made its creeping journey through the sudsy contraption, Dita's delight was spoiled as she sensed the mood turn sour. She glanced at Kos's face, long and serious, and wished immediately that she hadn't. It seemed to spark his next words.

“You know what you need to do. And don't gimme any mouth about it—you won't have to do this stuff for too much longer. I got one more grand plan in mind, and then that's it. But I'm gonna tell you something—call it my pre-10 counseling... You're gonna figure it out as you get older, so you might as well know now.”

Loud jets of water rinsed the car for a second time, before more soapy rollers. Dita groaned at the thought of another of Kos's grand plans.

“There're times in life when you gotta do things you don't like. Times when you might have to do quote-in-quote bad things—even kill—just to get by.”

Dita's brows cast shadows on her eyes.

“Don't look at me like that, now, you know I said it before—and with your birthday coming up and all—” Kos pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow.

“All I'm saying's if you wanna survive in this world, sometimes killing's necessary. You'd best wrap your head around that, Edyta Mazurek.”

Dita breathed through her nose, wrinkled her chin, and made duck lips in response.

Fading sunlight glistening on the windshield signaled the end of the carwash. Kos took the wheel and drove out to a parking spot alongside the convenience store, turned off the ignition and glanced once more at his daughter. He didn't need to say a word. He got out and raised the hood of his Jeep, then nodded to her and headed to the store entrance. She climbed out of the car and skipped up to him as he pulled open the glass door.

A picture of an astronaut and his rocket hung on a column, a lost hero, the only image in the store that wasn't advertising. As they approached the man standing behind the counter, Dita noticed the cash register was a Barion model six-eight-eight.

“Easy cheesy pineapple queasy,” she singsonged, raising a curious glance from the clerk.

Kos smiled at the man and held his hands open before him. “Sorry to bother you, bud, but do ya think you could gimme a hand? I'm not sure, but I think there's something going on with my Jeep, and I need someone who can rev the engine while I tinker with it, and the girl, well... It'll only take a minute or two of your time.”

Kos glanced around at the empty store while Dita peered over the countertop at the racks stuffed full of magazines with brown paper covers and titles like Vintage Gals and Bathing Suit Beauties. She knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself from taking a peek.

The clerk smiled and conceded that he could spare a minute or two, then came out from behind the counter. Dita strolled over to the comic book rack near the candy and pretended to be interested in Flying Wombat issue number two hundred and eleven while Kos and the meek man went out to look at his Jeep. She waited thirty seconds, then reached into her coat pocket and pulled out several thin, metal rods.

Later, back on the highway traveling in the opposite direction, Kos looked straight ahead at the road and asked, “See anything you like at the store?”

“Yes,” she sighed, familiar with the routine. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. Placing the money on the seat between them, she spoke clearly, ignoring Isabel's protests: “The nice man gave me an early birthday present.”

Kos grinned. “That's my girl.”

Tuesday, November 27

Mom's even worse than normal. She saw someone I don't know, and got scared. She didn't like him, that's for sure. I've never seen her this sad.

Dita sat at the big table and drew fantastical creatures while her six-year-old brother, Leshek, played with toy cars on the floor with the other young kids. A sixteen-year-old girl sat cross-legged among them, tasked with watching the children while Sister Margie made phone calls in the nearby office about the upcoming St. Andrew's Day festivities.

Today, Dita drew a fire-breathing unicorn with tiny fairy wings. She decided to name him Bazzle.

Two pictures of Jesus Christ hung on the wall, one of his radiant, unblemished face, and the other of Jesus bleeding on his cross. Dita always imagined that Jesus's cross was his rocketship, just like Captain O's.

“Baka Jo!” Leshek exclaimed. He rushed up to his grandmother as she entered the church's daycare room and wrapped his arms around her wide hips.

“Ah, it's good to see you, Leshek, and you, Dita—” She extended her hand to the young girl, and Dita couldn't resist. Abandoning her drawing, she jumped up and ran to hug her grandma. “If only I could see you every day of the week...” She spoke with a Serbian accent, despite having arrived in the US as a young woman—before the current traveling restrictions were enforced. “How was your day, little Leshek—did you have fun with your toys?”

Dita's slow-witted brother smiled up at his grandma and blathered, “I was got, I got pick by da elefan guy to race da cars!”

“Awww, such a sweet boy. And you, Dita—” Baka Jo's face grew solemn all at once. “Tell me, what trouble did you get into today—and don't lie to me, devojka!”

Dita made her face as long as she could and looked off to one side, causing Leshek to giggle at her goofy expression. Baka Jo laughed as well, and caressed the young girl's cheek before turning and leading the children out of the room.

“Come, your mother is waiting for us.”

She insisted they call her Baka Jo—like the American Joe, despite the fact that her name, Jovana, was pronounced Yovana. Dita's dad never seemed to get along with her, using the Polish Baba Jovana instead of Baka Jo. She never had a smile for him, but she showered her grandchildren with affection.

Kos is a dick, her older sister, Lidia, had once explained to her. He thinks being Polish is better than being a Serb.

Kos hadn't yet told Dita the details of his upcoming grand plan, but she knew it was just a matter of time.

When they entered the sanctuary, the primary and largest room in St. Andrew's Catholic Church, Dita spotted her mother at once. She sat in her usual place among the pews, five rows back on the righthand side. She turned frequently and seemed to be agitated as she waited for her mother and children to reach her. Her dark eyes wore worry lines like unwanted plumage.

Baka Jo knew it as well: something was up. “What's the matter, Nadanje—you act like a whirlybird,” she joked while Dita and Leshek found their spots on the pew. Lidia wasn't here, but that wasn't surprising; she hadn't come to evening mass with her family for a couple of years. And Kos had declared himself to be agnostic, which Dita figured meant he didn't have to believe in anything.

“It's the bishop,” her mother hissed, drawing Baka Jo closer. “He's here—Bishop Stanczak, he's here for Saint Andrew's Day.”

Dita didn't recognize the name, but it was clear that Baka Jo did. She looked sternly at Nada in silence, then placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder. “Give it no thought, Nadanje. What is he to you? He is nothing. He's part of a story that's over—I tell you, don't give it another thought.”

Her mother had no response, but Dita didn't think she would listen to Baka Jo's advice. During the evening service Nada sat, kneeled, stood, and sang at all of the appropriate places, but she was clearly distracted, glancing over and over again at the man in the funny hat who sat behind Father Frank. As the congregants stood and sang a hymn, Nada turned and scanned the pews, taking stock of the two or three dozen worshippers. She knew most of them by name, but at one point her head stopped and her mouth slowly dropped open.

“No.” Her lips mouthed the word but no sound came out. Dita's heart raced as she watched terror increase the size of her mother's eyes. Nada turned to Baka Jo and said something, then grabbed Leshek by the arm and dragged him away.

Baka Jo shook her head and instructed Dita to follow after her mother and brother. Stopping at the end of the pew and ignoring the stares of her fellow worshippers, Dita knelt and crossed herself, then ran down the aisle toward the church's exit.

“He's here!” her mother whispered as Baka Jo met up with her outside. “The bishop's son—in the church!”

Dita's grandmother tried to calm her daughter, instructing Dita and Leshek to walk ahead of them so she and Nada could talk.

That was the first time, at least in Dita's memory, that her mother had ever walked out of church before the end of service. She wanted to talk to Isabel about it, but her desire to eavesdrop on her mother and grandmother's conversation was greater.

The only thing she heard before her grandma had to split off and follow a different path home was something about prison, and then her mother uttering these words:

“I just wish he was dead.”

Wednesday, November 28

Baka Jo once said there's a 'first' for everything, and you should never be afraid of it. I don't think she's ever lied to me.

I had a 'first' today: I thought I was going to be sent to jail.

Leshek could be the most confusing—and irritating—brother in all of God's brown earth. Dita sometimes wondered if he even was her brother.

“Buh-buh-but he said I wasn't reeeal!” he blubbered nonsense between sobs.

“Who said? Your little friend in kiddiegarten?”

Dita could see that her mother was trying to react to Leshek's whining with patience, but she didn't have much in her. Her right arm crossed over her body as if she was hugging herself during their walk home from school. A cloth grocery bag hung heavily from her left hand. Her eyes had dark circles beneath them, blacker than normal, and she seemed to be staring at something far away under the sidewalk.

“No!” Leshek was outraged. “Sandy Claws!” Then more wailing.

Meanwhile, Dita was trying to get Nada's attention for herself, trying to have a normal conversation like normal people do. She didn't get to spend as much time with her as she wanted due to her mom's work schedule at the hospital, and Dita was eager to recount her day at school.

“My favorite part was when we learned more about lines and angles, about how two points form a line and how a cute angle is smaller than an ob—attuse one—oh wait, or... did I learn it the other way around? Oh, shut up, Lesh! You're mixing me up.”

“Buh he wasn't real! Where will the presents go-o-o-o-o?!”

As they passed the neighborhood mini-mart, Leshek saw flashing red and green lights had been draped around the windows, and this really set him off. Not only did his wailing grow louder, but he dropped to the ground and began to kick the air.

“I don't want I want da Sandy Claws to be real!” he nearly shrieked.

At the same time, a group of teenagers were teasing a blond-haired kid in the alley next to the mini-mart. Dita heard them accuse the boy, who must've been eleven or twelve, of being a bed-wetter. With tears streaming down his face he cried out, “I do not wet my bed!” Rapid convulsions shook his small body at once. His eyes bugged out and face contorted, his arms went spastic and elastic for a few seconds until the seizure ceased. The other kids howled in laughter, pointing at and imitating their victim.

“Swarm'll get ya if ya lie!” one of them taunted.

Dita tried to ignore them too. “We also learned about a new statue they built downtown, a memorial for the victims of GP1. Did you know more people died because of GP1 than any other flu or virus in all of history?” She was amazed by this fact.

Her mother, however, had finally had enough. Yanking Leshek up from the ground by his arm, she first directed her vitriol at the rowdy boys in the alley.

“You there, you brats—stop picking on him! You're gonna shorten his life! Go and find something better to fill your time with. And you—” turning to Leshek, dragging him along next to her as she continued on the path home. “Lech Mazurek, what in God's name do you think you're doing? You're a kindergartner now—you're not a baby anymore! Why are you acting like one? There's no need to cry about what that boy said to you—tell him people are allowed to believe whatever they want to believe, there's no law against that, and if you want to believe in Santa Claus, that's none of his business!”

Shocked by her mother's anger, Dita stood rooted to the spot in front of the mini-mart for a few seconds before catching up. She heard one of the bullies mutter, “Whatev, he's still a baby bed-wetter,” while the blond-haired boy ran away.

Her mom looked worn-out, like she could use a ten-day nap, as Kos would say. Dita hoped the rest of the walk home would be more peaceful, but Nada had one more thing to get off her chest.

“And yes, Dita, I did know. Your brother Raymund, born three years before you, died as an infant because of GP1.”

Dita saw again the melancholy in her mom's eyes, and ached to dispel it.

I just wish he was dead.

That was definitely something she'd never heard her mom say before. Who was this man she was talking about, and what had he done? She was determined to talk with her sister about it; she knew that if she asked her mom directly she'd get nothing but a stern look and a Never you mind about that, you should be worrying about bluh and bluh and bluh...

“Don't forget about the fundraiser this weekend, Edyta,” her mom spoke hollowly as they turned the last corner onto their street. “You'll have a lot of responsibilities at the church on Saturday.”

“I know, mom, you don't have to constantly remind me.” Her mom was more forgetful than Dita was.

Instead of reacting to Dita's exasperated response, Nada stopped and nearly caused Leshek to trip over his feet. Dita looked up to where her mother stared, and her heart started to gallop.

A policeman.

The officer stood alongside his car in front of the fourplex where they lived, watching Nada as they approached.

“Dita, take your brother inside and let me speak to the policeman—go on now, get started on your homework, you hear me?”

Dita didn't want to take her brother inside, but she nodded anyway, then took her mother's keys and Leshek's hand. After unlocking the bottom unit on the north side of the building, she let her brother in, then lingered by the doorway.

“Missus Mazurek, we have reason to believe your daughter may've been involved in a burglary at a charging station in West County.” His words emblazoned themselves across Dita's mind. We have reason to believe your daughter was involved in a burglary. “May I ask how old she is?”

Dita couldn't hear how her mother responded, but she thought she might have heard the word birthday.

“I see.” The officer, a handsome man with blond hair, blue eyes and an athletic build, glanced over at the front door, slightly ajar.

“I belieeeeve in Sandy Claaaws! I belieeeeeve!” Leshek's irritating voice obscured some of what the policeman said next. Dita tried to hush her brother, but he was twirling around the living room like an alien spaceship, oblivious to her pleas.

“...new law... ...year-olds—especially the last... ...lenience. Just make sure it...

“I believe I am Sandy Claws!'

“Shut it, spaznozzle!”

“Ha ha!” Leshek was tickled by funny words. “Shpanish Noodle! Dita said I'm a Shpanish Noo! Ha ha! Nooda nooda nooda nooda!”

When Nada came into the house, shutting the door behind her before the policeman had even gotten into his car, she didn't look at Dita. Instead she brought her bag of groceries into the kitchen and set them on the counter with a sigh.

“Settle down, twirlybird, settle down! Go play with your crayons while I get dinner ready.”

But Leshek didn't want to settle down. Distressed by learning that Santa Claus wasn't real, he was desperately seeking ways to make it right again. “I'm a Noodle Claws!” He spun himself dizzy and fell on the floor giggling after that one.

Dita retreated to the kitchen table and started another drawing, trying to ignore her little brother. When Lidia came home from school, Leshek was still spinning around the living room, but at least he was doing it quietly. Lidia retreated to the bedroom the three siblings shared and slammed the door.

Typical.

Leshek sat on the floor for a full twenty minutes, piecing together tracks for his racecars, but the lure of the whirling spaceship eventually pulled him into motion. He didn't get far, crashing into his mother just as she was about to transfer a box of macaroni to a boiling pot of water.

Ssscrasssh!

Noodles everywhere.

“Noodle Claws!” He seemed so pleased with himself.

Just then, Kos walked in through the front door, and the mood grew chill. Leshek trotted over to the kitchen table next to Dita and pretended that he'd been drawing the entire time. With the air sucked out of her chance to shriek at her youngest child, Nada scooped up the spilled noodles into a bowl and picked through them for dirt.

“I won't let you spoil dinner for all of us,” she muttered, barely acknowledging her husband's entrance. Kos solemnly took off his shoes and sat in his easy chair, as he did every day before dinner.

A mischievous urge prompted Dita to comment on her mom's cooking. “It's already spoiled if you're using that ento-meat stuff, it's gross—”

“You mind your tongue, little girl,” Kos's gruff voice cut her off. “We can't afford fancy hamburgers and steak, you know.”

“Is that what you tell her to get her to steal for you?” Nada's voice was as tense as violin strings.

Kos's eyes turned black, but her mother wasn't through.

“A cop came by today—waiting for me outside our house when I got home. Yeah, that's right,” she nodded when Kos flinched at her words. “The police. He said they had video of Dita busting into a cash register—our Dita! Is this how you're raising our little girl, Kosmy? Raising her to think that stealing's okay as long as you don't get caught? You're just setting her up to be punished after she turns ten—is this how you're gonna raise Leshek? To be nothing more than a thief?”

Kos remained uncannily detached throughout Nada's fury, right up to when she mentioned Leshek. It was clear to everyone in their family that Kos didn't care for their youngest child, and the twist of his lip, the tension in his left nostril, both signaled his disgust at the thought of raising the boy. Thief or not.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Kosmy Mazurek,” Nada pressed on, her cheeks aflame with indignation. “To take advantage of your children in such a way.”

“Dita!” Kos barked, jumping up from his chair. Dita stiffened, but didn't look up from her drawing. “Take out the trash, then make a peanut butter sandwich for you and your brother. It's time for—”

Dita could already hear her mom groaning in protest.

“—your mom and I to have our playtime.”

“No, Kosmy, please—I'm so tired, and the kids need a proper—”

“You heard me! Dita!”

Leshek scrambled off to the kids' bedroom as fast as he could, while Dita slammed her pencil on the tabletop and stomped off to retrieve the trash.

She hated it when her dad did this. It made no sense.

It made her sick.

She brought the kitchen trash to the can they kept outside near the house, and said goodnight to the giant oak at the end of their block. For a mere second, she was tempted to walk down the street and keep walking, never turn back, and never have to see Kosmy or Leshek or anyone ever again. The thought was flushed away at once, however. Her family was awful. But the world was too terrifying for a nearly-ten-year-old girl on her own.

As she reached for the doorknob to go back inside, she heard Nada's muffled protests turn to sobbing and moaning, and Dita knew that Kos had already begun. For the next hour or more, Dita's parents would stay locked up in their bedroom, as they had many times before. She knew that her dad would stuff something into her mom's mouth, gagging her and garbling her pleas for mercy. She'd hear what sounded like slapping, sometimes punching or kicking. Cutting into her heart like an ax blow, Dita would hear each of her mother's muted groans, each time her dad gibed at Nada for forgetting their safe word.

Sometimes her family made her want to die.

“At least I have you, Isabel,” Dita whispered to the cold sky before going back into the house.

Thursday, November 29

We learned about Captain O in school today. His name was Yuriy, but people called him George. He left Earth eight years ago, before the Swarm came, on a mission to Mars, but he never made it. Something happened to his ship. Some people think he's still alive, out there in space, and that he's going to come back and save Earth or something. But wouldn't he be a human popsicle by now? I think space is pretty cold.

We also played some ancient game called square dancing. I wanted to keep doing it all day and all night, so I wouldn't have to come home, but everyone else thought it was stupid.

At daycare I learned about St. Andrew and his saltire. A saltire is a cross in the shape of an x instead of t. Andrew was a follower of Jesus Christ, but some people didn't like what he was doing, so they decided to crucify him. He said he wasn't good enough to be crucified on the same kind of cross as Jesus, so they put him on a saltire.

I think that's silly. If you have to die, why does the shape of the cross matter? Death is death. The point of life is to avoid it as long as possible.

Kos was at it again. He'd spent three hours the previous night torturing Nada, but that wasn't enough it seemed. Muffled moans and cruel taunts filled their home; the kids did their best to ignore them. Leshek listened to his radio and hummed to himself, but that wasn't enough for Dita. She hated Kos more than anything during playtime.

She decided she'd go find Lidia. Opening the front door as quietly as possible, she snuck out and climbed the stairs to the landing pad and entryway to the upper unit. No one lived there, although a woman lived in the upper unit on the south side of their fourplex. She was probably in her living room surrounded by her many cats.

Dita went to the end of the balcony and climbed up a ladder to the roof. Crouching down as she ascended the shingled slope, she found her sister sitting in shadows, her back pressed against the brick chimney. Lifting her head at the noise of Dita scrambling up the roof, Lidia frowned then put her head back on her knees as she hugged her legs.

Dita sat next to her sister, and Lidia grudgingly shared the wool blanket she'd draped over herself. In one hand she held a small bottle, unopened and containing a brown liquid. They sat in silence for a few moments, and Dita looked at her favorite tree at the end of the block, the enormous oak that was as wide as a house. That tree awed her, made her sure that life was worth living. It changed with the seasons, and it had an entire society of animals and insects that lived in, on, under, and around it. It was its own world.

“We missed the meteors,” Lidia spoke quietly, worn out from the cold. Her pale skin looked almost blue in the dim light from the streetlamps. “Meteor swarms that come around every year in November, but I learned about them too late.”

Dita imagined a flock of winged rocks swooping and buzzing past Earth in a strange outer-space migration.

“Like the Swarm?”

Lidia scowled. “No, stupid, the Swarm's always here.”

“What's in the bottle?” Dita asked after another few moments had passed.

“Bourbon.” Lidia lifted her head again and looked directly at Dita's face for the first time tonight. “It's a kind of alcohol.”

“But that's for adults, isn't it? Why do you have it?”

“It's not illegal anymore for kids to drink alcohol... but I haven't tried it.” The way she phrased her words it seemed as if she had more to stay, but nothing came out.

“How come?” Dita prompted.

Lidia's head sank back to her knees. “I'm scared.”

Dita didn't understand that, but she let it pass. “Well, why do people drink that stuff in the first place? Doesn't it taste terrible?”

Lidia raised her head again, but not to respond to Dita's questions. Leshek's head had just popped up over the edge of the roof. His eyes asked if he would be allowed to climb up and join his sisters. Dita sighed.

Before their brother reached them, Lidia looked at Dita and something in her sister's eyes made Dita's heart race: they were cold and hard, like their dad's.

“You'd better do it soon, before it starts counting against you. If you don't, it'll be up to Leshek, but that'll be years from now. I don't think mom'll survive that long.”

Dita had no idea what her sister was saying. The words bounced off her head like inert pine cones, but the tone of her sister's voice terrified her. Shaken, she welcomed Leshek's arrival and hugged her brother close to her while they sat on the roof.

Friday, November 30

I might get arrested before my 10th birthday. Kos finally told me about his grand plan.

Looking down at two men on the ground, convulsing as if they'd been shocked by live wires, Kos spat. “Damn bugs. Come on, let's get outta here.”

They left the gun range after witnessing an argument turn into fisticuffs. Normally Kos had Dita practice with a small rifle, since that's what kids were taught, but today he had her use a small semi-automatic handgun.

You never know when you'll need to protect yourself from a thug or a rapist, he'd said. The handgun's your best bet.

It turned out she was just as good a shot with a handgun as she was with a rifle. Shooting a gun felt natural to her. Still, she was annoyed at her dad for taking her to the range. Today was St. Andrew's Day, and there was a special mass at church tonight. Dita would much rather be with her mom and Baka Jo in church than at the firing range.

Back in the Jeep, Kos didn't start the engine right away. Instead, he lit one of his hand-rolled cigarettes and lowered his window just enough to let the smoke out. Dita wrinkled her nose: she detested the smell of burning tobacco. He took a few drags and breathed deeply for a moment before he spoke, saying something that Dita knew she wouldn't want to hear.

“The world's uh effed-up place, Dita. People do some crazy shit just to get by... and some people do crazy shit just for the hell of it—just to get off on it.”

Like you? Feeling nauseous from a mix of smoke, adrenalin and bile, Dita shot her eyes over at Kos, not daring to utter her thought. He ignored her anyway, looked out his window and kept speaking. She turned away and stared out the passenger side window at the brick wall of the gun range building, graffitied with the phrase OBEY THE SWARM.

“About six or seven years ago, when it all started... when it was worse than it is now, when people started losing their shit and killing themselves, and killing each other... Someone hurt your mom, hurt her real bad. He did something to your mom that—” Something seemed to catch in his throat, so he cleared it, swallowed, and paused for a moment before resuming.

“He polluted her,” he said more loudly, anger rising in his face. “And cuz of who he was, the son of a god-damn priest, he got off light.”

Kos turned to Dita and made sure she was looking at him.

“There ain't no way he's paid for the damage he's done. If I could get away with it... I'd make sure justice was done.”

Dita didn't dare utter a word. She understood exactly what Kos was telling her.

“Tomorrow at the fundraiser,” he continued. “You'll be busy helping Sister Margie with the bake sale and kid stuff, right?”

Dita nodded once.

“You'll have your jacket with you, right?”

Dita nodded twice.

“Well, just be sure you don't forget it, you know, back in the back office or whatever, cuz... Well, I wouldn't want you to be without your jacket, cuz I guess I'd have to bring you back later and see if we could get it... right?”

Saturday, December 1

You'd better do it soon.

I'd make sure justice was done.

I just wish he was dead.

The voices of her family haunted Dita as she and Nada took the county bus to the Lake Park cemetery. Somewhere deep inside she understood what they were all saying to her, but she was reluctant to examine their words too closely. Reluctant, or perhaps, repulsed by what she might find. It was all too much for her young soul.

She wanted to talk with her mom about it, but at the same time she didn't. Nada was the most frustrating person in the world to talk to. She could try to discuss it with Isabel, but that'd become unsatisfying as she grew older. She'd never actually seen Isabel, but ever since she could remember she simply knew Isabel existed. There were times when she thought she could hear her imaginary friend, as a high-pitched ringing noise, which is how she got her name: Is a bell?

The electric bus sped away from them quietly, as if it'd never been there, and Dita glanced up at her mother's face. Clutching some flowers she'd picked earlier this morning, Nada eyed something ahead with suspicion, but Dita couldn't tell what it was. She hesitated for a moment, then decided to pose one of the many questions burning in her mind.

“Why was Uncle Miki buried here instead of at Saint Andrew's with Raymund and grampa and gramma Mazurek?”

Nada turned with anger in her eyes and scowled, but didn't reply. After a moment she sighed, then walked up to a wooden booth near the cemetery's entrance. While she signed her name on an open book that'd been placed on a pedestal, a woman approached holding a stack of folded paper. At first glance, her hair appeared neat, but it was really just a jumble of quarrelsome curls.

“Hi, my name's Beverly,” the woman spoke with a slight lisp, holding one of her pamphlets out to Nada. “Have you considered joining the Church of the Swarm?”

Nada looked up, confused and irritated, and refused the pamphlet by waving her hands in front of her.

“We're the first religion based on rational thought and proven science,” Beverly offered, but Nada took Dita's hand and walked away from the woman.

When they reached the wall where the ashes of her brother were interred, Nada touched the plaque which bore his name: Mihailo Damjanović. Placing her sorry bouquet in a tin vase attached to the wall next to the plaque, she spoke softly to her daughter.

“Your uncle Miki was a good man, Dita. Caring... generous... kind. He liked to play golf... and paint watercolors. You remind me of him sometimes—he was so stubborn. He never let anyone tell him what to do... or how to be. He had a hard time when he was younger, but he figured it out. He was ... happy.”

Tears began to well up in Nada's eyes as she touched the wisps of hair around Dita's forehead.

“Then, when everything changed... when the Swarm... it was hard on people like your uncle. He'd always been Catholic, but he... he did things. Sinful things. It was too much for him to bear.”

Nada watched Dita as her words sunk in, then bent closer and placed her hands on Dita's shoulders.

“Now listen to me, Dita: your birthday's coming up, and you're going to be asked to make a choice. You'll have some time, but I want you to think carefully about everything you've learned from—and about—the Church before you do. No matter what you decide, I want you to know that I'll always love you. Okay?”

Dita smiled and nodded. Her mother rarely said those words to her.

“One more thing.” Her eyes grew dark. “I know Kos has something brewing, either today or tomorrow. I won't ask you to resist, because I know what he's like, but I just want you to remember one thing: be true to yourself, Edyta Mazurek. In your heart, you know the difference between right and wrong.”

Dita's pulse quickened. She wasn't sure if her mother was right.

Dita spent most of Saturday afternoon at St. Andrew's Church. She and some of the other children helped Sister Margie and Father Frank with their annual St. Andrew's Day fundraiser, where they sold food and hand-made crafts to help fund the daycare and other charitable work. Long tables draped with white sheets filled the entryway near the baptistery, as well as the chancel, the raised area where the priests conducted the services. Half the tables were covered with plates of paczki, poppy-seed cake, and other baked goods, while the rest were adorned with holiday-themed wreaths, wall hangings, statues and dozens of hand-crafted items donated by members of the community.

“But I want da Sandy Claws!”

Dita could hear her younger brother screeching all the way on the other side of the nave. She spotted her mother and Baka Jo nearby, engrossed in a conversation with the woman who'd made forty dozen pierogi for the sale, then saw Kos and Leshek near the wooden Santa Claus statues.

“Why can I have da Sandee Claaaaaaws!” His demands turned to sobbing, and Dita knew that he'd pushed it too far. Kos slapped the six-year-old boy hard, knocking him to the ground, then dragged him away from the sparkling red and white figurines and away from the eyes of onlookers. Dita abandoned her table and ran across the church's sanctuary to a wide hallway that led to the administrative offices in the back. Kos had already removed his belt and was yanking Leshek's pants down as he made the young boy bend over.

“Kos!” she pleaded, but her dad ignored her. Folding his belt in half, he flogged Leshek's buttocks five times fast, eliciting squeals of pain. Stopping, he looked up at Dita with a sneer on his face, then all at once his face changed. His sneer vanished, his eyes grew wide, and he seemed to be looking at something past Dita. She turned and saw a man walking away, a tall man who was somehow familiar, though she couldn't get a good look at his face.

“Go find your mom,” Kos barked to Leshek as the boy buttoned his pants and sniffled. Her dad turned his gaze upon Dita. “You're coming with me.”

“But, Kos, I gotta—”

He took her by the hand and dragged her with him toward the front entrance of the church, the way the man had walked. He released her as they exited the church and put his hand into his jacket pocket while they walked around the building.

When no one was nearby, Kos pulled out a small gun and handed it to Dita.

“Hold it in your sweatshirt for a bit—it's too heavy with my keys and everything.”

Dita breathed through her nose, but she didn't have the nerve to defy him. She took the gun and slid it into the front pocket of her sweatshirt, holding onto it so it wouldn't bounce around as she walked. As they followed the man toward the building that housed the offices and guest quarters, Kos spoke in a low voice.

“That's Simon Stanczak. He raped your mom seven years ago. Hurt her so bad she was in the hospital for almost a week.”

Dita had learned what rape was from Lidia, who'd said it was the worst thing a man could ever do to a woman. Worse than death.

Simon Stanczak didn't seem to notice Dita and Kos as he entered the building. When the door closed behind him, a strange thought came to Dita. Seven years ago? Leshek is almost seven years old.

“I would understand it,” Kos continued. “If you wanted to hurt that man, you know, in retribution. I wouldn't condone it, but I'd understand it.” He was using his official voice, the precise enunciation and conditional sentences that indicated he was trying to say something else to her. “If you walked in there, knocked on his door, and shot him in the face—I don't think anyone would be surprised.”

Dita's eyes grew wide. Her heart galloped like a frightened horse.

“I can't—wouldn't ever want to see you do such a thing, you know—I couldn't lie to the police about anything...”

He looked at her as if he was waiting for her to do something, and then she realized: she needed to go in alone. She glared at him, then walked up to the building's entrance and opened the door.

She knew exactly where the guest quarters were, having spent many of her afternoons in the church's daycare which was housed in the same building. She could probably guess which one had been assigned to the bishop's son: colorful panels of stained glass next to the entry doors showed which rooms were currently lit or unlit, and only one glowed with bluish light. Dita blinked rapidly, cleared her mind and took a deep breath. Her heart still raced, but she felt as if she was on a path laid out for her, and she didn't know how to stop.

She knocked on the door, timidly at first, but ending with three loud raps. The gun felt cold and lifeless in her hand as she withdrew it from her sweatshirt pocket, making sure to load the chamber.

Footsteps approached the door, and Dita's vision went black around the edges.

As Simon Stanczak opened the door his face paled with shock. Dita held the gun as if she knew exactly what she was doing and aimed for his heart. The man's eyes were wide, his hands presented palms forward, as he sputtered. “Wh-wh-whoa, little girl, what are you doing with that? Put that down before you hurt someone.”

Dita tried to focus all her pent-up rage and use it to drill through his quivering, fat face with her eyes, but his expression softened.

“You're her baby girl, aren't you?” Something about the familiarity of his tone made Dita's heart grow black. “Listen, I'm sorry, I'm real sorry for what I did—I didn't mean, I didn't—”

“I'm not a baby.” Dita's hands trembled. She grew perplexed by the realization that she wasn't going to squeeze the trigger. That wasn't for her to do. That decision belonged to someone else.

For most of dinner that night, Kos fumed at her, but didn't say a word. Dita did her best to avoid his gaze. The uncomfortable silence was punctuated by occasional and inappropriately mirthful outbursts from Baka Jo.

“And those wreaths! Best I've ever seen, hands down. The Bruskis really outdid themselves this year,” she proclaimed.

“What happened to your jacket, Dita?” Her father's gruff voice startled her. “I noticed you didn't have it when you got home.”

Nada eyed Kos with some suspicion. Dita didn't look up, instead speared a potato pierogi with her fork and stuffed it past her teeth. With her mouth full, she mumbled, “I yeft it at da furff.”

Kos chewed on that for a moment. “I need some tobacco. I'll take you to the store with me and we can stop at the church and see if anyone's still there.”

Dita didn't say a word. Both Leshek and Lidia kept their eyes on their plates, as they did most nights.

“Why not wait until morning?” Baka Jo's voice was cheerfully mystified. “You'll be there again for morning mass, won't you?”

“What if something happens before then—a fire, or something, you never know. You don't want your granddaughter to be without her jacket, do you Baba Jovana?” Kos sneered.

Baka Jo shrugged, wrinkled her nose and smiled at Dita, then served herself more green beans.

In the car ride to the church, Kos asked Dita what she'd done with the gun after she ran from Simon Stanczak.

“I threw it in the bushes behind the church.”

She stared straight ahead as she replied, ignoring the tiny bells in her ears, and Kos said no more.

It was dark when they got to the church. Kos said he'd wait outside while Dita went around back to see if anyone was there to let her into the administrative office. She knew there wouldn't be this late at night, but he needed to say it aloud.

“Go on in and see if you can find your jacket—and if you see the cash they collected from all the sales today, don't you touch it now.” He winked. “I'll go see if I can find that gun.”

Dita screwed up her lips, then did what her dad's unsaid words told her to do. It was easy getting into the administrative offices—she had done it before with her tools—but the hard part was walking down the hallway. There were no windows on this side of the building, hidden from the streetlamps and autumn moonlight of the world outside. Once she got more than ten feet in, the light coming through the glass entrance doors grew dim and useless. Shadows crowded the corners and Dita nearly froze with fear, reacting to every little noise.

Her galloping heart forced her to press on.

“I know this is wrong, Isabel,” she whispered as she crept toward Sister Margie's office. “But I don't think I have any other choice.”

Once inside, she felt her way to the nun's desk and dared to turn on the small lamp that was clamped to one side. The money wasn't even hidden. A box sat open on top of the nun's paperwork. What was probably over a couple thousand dollars in cash lay within Dita's reach. She wasn't surprised: she knew from experience that people had become too relaxed about security, lulled by how little crime there was these days. She stared at the money and listened to every noise, the buzzing, clicking, breezing sounds of a large building at night. Minuscule sounds made large by fear and darkness.

The frantic rhythm of her heart was the loudest thing here: blood booming in her ears. She opened the top drawer and saw a familiar set of keys, and knew that her next decision was the most important of her life so far.

She looked again at the box of money: a messy pile of ashen bills in small denominations. Dita saw in that cash a whole year's worth of food for her family, or new clothes, or maybe even a car for Nada. It had been so easy before, when she'd stolen from charge stations or GovMed clinics or corner mini-marts. She wasn't taking much—their businesses wouldn't fall apart because of Dita's nimble fingers. But taking from the daycare, from the church's outreach programs and charities: that felt vastly different. People Dita liked had spent their own time and resources to help raise that money for the church.

“Lidia's right. Kos is a dick.”

Dita reached down and grabbed the keys, knowing they'd be faster than her lock-pick skills, then rushed to the men's restroom before she changed her mind. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of going into a space that was reserved exclusively for men, then barged in. Squinting her eyes in the bright, motion-activated light of the bathroom, she found the key to the supply closet and unlocked the door. At the back of the small room she pressed her ear against another door, this one leading to the restroom for the guests of the church, and listened.

Nothing but her galloping pulse. She put the key into the lock and turned it, dreading the inevitable click. Pushing the door open, she could see at once that the restroom was unlit. The motion detector must've been facing the other way. Enough light shone in from the staff restroom for her to spot the tall garbage can near the sinks.

Dita removed the lid from the trash can and reached into the mass of damp, crumpled paper. She had to tilt the plastic container to reach further down, then she felt it. The cold steel was unmistakable. She lifted the gun out of the rubbish and stared at it, spellbound by the instrument of death in her hand, speaking in hushed tones to Isabel, her constant friend.

“I wonder if this has ever killed anyone?”

“Dita! What the fuck are you doing?!”

The angry whisper startled Dita, but she didn't lose her grip on the gun. Instead, she swung around with her finger on the trigger and faced Kos, pointing the weapon at his heart.

“What the—you lied to me!” His voice was growing louder now, his anger overriding caution. “Gimme that thing—”

“Stop!” Dita nearly shouted. “Stop right there—I've got something to say to you!”

His face in shadows, Dita thought she saw a sparkle in Kos's eye as he laughed. “What's this? Is little Dita stomping her feet and demanding the world pay attention to her? Waaa, waaaa, listen to meeee! Ha! You better give that up right now, little girl, and get used to being a nothin! Cuz that's what you are, a nothin, just like the rest of us. Anything you get in life, you get because uh me, you hear that? Now, gimme that gun before I beat ya silly.”

“No!” She snarled as best as she could. She'd never stood up to Kos before, not like this, and she thought her heart might explode from all the blood pumping through it. But she didn't falter.

“You have to make a promise!” Dita looked as serious as she could, wanting to convey the importance of her words, but Kos only raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Listen to me!” Her voice was almost a screech, her pitch heightened by frustration and dread. “You have to stop hurting us—especially mom! No more playtime, okay. Now promise!”

Dita shook the handgun at her dad, stood straight and tried to appear as if she wouldn't back down this time.

But her dad came at her fast.

Kos hunched over and rushed Dita, snarling like an underfed junkyard dog. Fumbling to gain control of the gun, he knocked it out of her hand and shoved her hard. She landed on the plastic garbage can, causing it to tip over as she slid to the ground.

Kos was hovering over her before she could scramble away. He first grabbed her by the hair and broke her nose with a quick punch: bones fracturing bones, then an immediate flow of blood.

Dita's memory of the next few seconds were of bright fairies and drowning.

Barely able to determine which direction to flee, she attempted to stumble out of the men's restroom, but Kos yanked her by the hood of her sweatshirt and swung her back toward the supply closet door. She slid across the bathroom floor and struck her left shoulder and head on the wall, pain shooting down her neck, blood everywhere.

Kos was saying something to her, but she couldn't really hear his words. She was too distracted by screaming pain and the familiar black object that lay right in front of her. As she lifted the gun and pointed it for a second time that night at her dad, Kos was unbuckling and removing his leather belt, fire burning at the bottom of the black pits where his eyes should've been.

Dita sat on the bathroom floor with her back to the wall and braced herself for the recoil. Isabel's peal of condemnation rang in her ears, but she ignored it.

“You think by killing me you can change the world?” Kos punctuated his question with a snap of his belt across his hand. “Wake up, stupid girl! Nothing's gonna change! We're already in hell—haven't ya figured it out yet?”

“You're wrong, Kos, it doesn't have to be that way!”

“Stupid bitch—you're just like your mom used to be, you know that? You think there's room in this world for good things, for a better world. A better world—ha! There's only this one, ya idiot, controlled by the almighty Swarm, and there's not a fucking thing you can do—”

Isabel screamed louder than she ever had before, but it wasn't enough.

Sunday, December 2

Tomorrow is my birthday. I'm afraid. I think Isabel is my pilot.

“Missus Mazurek, hello. My name is Doctor Diaz. I wanted to first tell you how sorry I am for your loss, I can't imagine what you must be going through right now.”

Silence prompted the doctor to continue speaking.

“I know this must be a hard time, and if there was any way to delay this visit, I would. But as part of the Swarm Act signed by President Parimoo, it's required by law that all US citizens must receive at least one pre-10 counseling session before their tenth birthday.”

The doctor had a soft voice, with a lilt at the ends of words that sounded foreign. She was a pretty woman with dark hair and eyes, her eyes unadorned and her hair pulled back tight.

“A house call is required if the scheduled appointments are not met—it should only take twenty or thirty minutes at most, and you may be present for the entire interview.”

Dita's eyebrows rose at that last word, yet her focus didn't stray from the blank piece of paper on the kitchen table. Her pencil stood erect in her right hand, the tip touching the white surface. She hadn't been able to draw a thing. The small fracture in her nose was throbbing with pain, dulled by the medicine she'd been given. She had hoped for a cast or a patch to cover her black eye at least, but she'd been disappointed.

“She's been poked and prodded by doctors and detectives all night long—she only just woke up from a nap, and she's probably still in shock. Can't this wait until tomorrow?” Nada's voice was weak. Dita was surprised she spoke at all, considering how widthdrawn she'd been for the past fifteen hours.

“I'm afraid not, Missus Mazurek. I am sorry, but I'll try to be quick. May I?”

Nada reluctantly stepped aside and allowed Dr. Diaz to enter her home. Baka Jo, sitting nearby on the couch, frowned at the woman, then took Lidia and Leshek with her into the kids' bedroom.

The attractive woman stepped up to the kitchen table and set her briefcase down. Pulling a chair out, she smiled at Dita and said, “Hi—it's Edyta, right? I'm Doctor Diaz. May I sit with you for a moment or two?”

The doctor didn't wait for Dita's permission.

“I know you must be exhausted. I'll keep this as simple as I can. I don't know how much you've been told about the Swarm, but it's my job to make sure you're prepared for what's about to happen to you.”

Dita put the pencil down on the blank paper and glanced over at Dr. Diaz. The pain medicine made her mind fuzzy, and when her heart raced, it felt like it was sliding on slick ice.

“Can I ask you to tell me your full name, please?”

Dita blinked. “Edyta Aniela Mazurek. But everyone calls me Dita.”

“Good, okay, Dita. Now tell me your date of birth?”

Dita told her, then added, “Lidia says I'm a Sagittarius.”

“Good—that's right, you are. I'm a Sagittarius too. Now, I just need to do a short examination—listen to your heart, and such.”

Dr. Diaz pressed her stethoscope to various places on Dita's body, inspected her eyes, ears, and mouth, and wrote notes on her pad of paper. When she was done with her exam, the doctor put her pad back into her briefcase and folded her hands on her lap.

“Well, as I said, I don't know how much you may've been told about the Swarm, but there are things you'll need to know as you start the next year of your life. You'll learn more about the origins of the Swarm in school, as you grow older, if you haven't already from your friends or family. But here's what I can tell you.

“The Swarm is a network of self-sufficient, aerial nanobots—I know that's quite a mouthful, Dita, but what that means is they're a bunch of tiny computers, so tiny they could be flying all around us right now and we'd never see them. And like all computers, they have a program, a purpose. Do you know the purpose of the Swarm?”

Dita heard the question, but it prompted no reaction from her. She knew the Swarm was responsible for shocking people when they lied, but when she was younger she'd been told they were angels. More recently she'd begun to question the idea of angry cherubs and wonder if they were bugs after all, more akin to tiny, vengeful insects. Like electrified fireflies.

A hive of micro-robots was a concept that made Dita's mind explode with questions and implications. Who made them? And why?

“They impose morals. What those morals are, exactly, is determined by a person's chosen belief system. I'm sorry if this is all a little confusing right now, but it will make sense, I promise.”

Dita had learned about morals at Sunday school. She wasn't confused; things were beginning to make more sense than the doctor understood.

“Each one of us, starting at the age of ten, is assigned one bot from the Swarm cloud—we call it the pilot. It stays with us for the rest of our lives, and for the first seven weeks it guides us with a gentle ringing in our ears as we navigate our new relationship.”

“Ten? Do kids who're younger than ten ever get a pilot?” Dita asked, unsure which response she wanted.

“No, I haven't read of any cases where a pilot was assigned before age ten—they are quite precise. Why do you ask, Dita—have you been hearing a chiming noise?”

“No, I was just wondering,” Dita answered reflexively, then realized her lie a split second before she heard the familiar ringing.

It was in her nature to lie. How in God's brown earth am I going to survive without lying?

Isabel?

Dr. Diaz nodded, and seemed to accept Dita's response. “So the pilot guides us, helps us to understand the rules. For everyone, religious and non-religious people alike, there are four general laws that are imposed upon us. These are laws that are basic to all of humanity—do not lie, do not cheat, do not steal, and do not kill. We all agree that those four things are bad, right?”

Dita turned away at the word kill, and for a moment she thought her vision might go black, but the pain meds had slowed her heart enough. She breathed deeply and focused her attention on the softly lilting tone of Dr. Diaz.

“Plus, if you believe in God, as millions of Americans do, and adhere to a recognized church's beliefs and codes of conduct, those codes will also be imposed upon you by the Swarm. For instance in the Catholic tradition, divorce is a sin, and will get you punished. And that's what they do, Dita—they punish. The Swarm monitors our behavior, and punishes us when we're bad. The punishment is light at first—loud ringing bells, then small electric shocks. But it will get worse, and the more often you're punished, no matter how small the crime, the greater the punishments will be. On your fifteenth birthday, if you haven't yet publicly declared your religious status, the Swarm will assume that you are agnostic, and continue judging you solely against the Four Laws. But if you've chosen to follow a set of religious beliefs, you'll be bound to obey them. Countless thousands of people have lost their lives testing the limits of the Swarm. And this is the important thing, Dita: the Swarm will not hesitate to kill, especially those who break the fourth law—those who murder.”

Dita's eyes burned. Anger and resentment that had built up over the past five or six years of her small life overflowed from her heart and into her bloodstream. She trembled as Kos's face flashed before her eyes with the crack of gunshot. His death gaze was as vivid and tangible as the air in her lungs.

“Fortunately, these laws do have some leeway. You'll learn more as you grow older, but here's one example to get you thinking. The fourth law, do not kill, is more precisely stated do no harm. If one of your friends punches you in the arm, he or she will be punished. But if a surgeon has to cut you open in order to save your life, or a dentist has to drill into your teeth, they won't be punished for that. Not if they're doing their job in a professional setting. And there are countless other exceptions and special situations that you'll learn as you experience them. But don't worry, it's all commonsense stuff, and for the first fifty days, you don't have to think about getting shocked—you'll just hear a faint ringing noise when you've broken one of the rules.

“Do you understand, Dita?”

A nauseating river of thoughts and emotions flowed through her foggy head. Fear of the future, of the following day. Horror at the idea of having her every action scrutinized by a robot. Unquenched rage at her father for using her to commit sins, for making her a murderer. Spite against the doctor for pointing it out.

And gall, coating everything else like a bitter syrup.

She began to wonder if she was wrong to believe that death is death. Maybe what kind of cross propped you up as you died was important after all. Dita knew she didn't want to die like Kos had.

But the Swarm? She would figure it out. Maybe even figure out a way to stop it. No one should have to go through what I've been through.

“What does it matter?” She spoke softly, so only the doctor could hear. “We all die. You just gotta make sure you go the way you want to.”

She picked up her pencil and began a drawing of Captain O's rocketship.

By Christopher Charles.

#The Swarm #writing

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