For a Reason

In a world torn apart and made more or less unlivable by war, a girl records her side of the story and explains what happened to make everything fall apart.

Hello? Is this thing on? *mic check*

Hi. My name is Ferne Steward. *crash in the background* I don’t know how much time I have. This whole place is about to come down around my ears. But I need to get this out. I need to make sure that people know why this is happening.

Very simply put, it was fate. And you don’t mess with fate. I learned that the hard way.

My legs hurt. This is nothing new. I have too free a spirit. I can’t stay in one place for more than a few days without feeling trapped. Comfort is the price I pay.

Or is the need to move on part of my curse? It’s been so long that I’ve forgotten.

I’m recording this so other people won’t make my mistake. If you’re not like me, please hold on to this anyway because chances are you know someone who is. If you are like me, then here’s some free advice: keep quiet about what you See. It’s hidden from most for a reason. Share the wrong thing and you may destroy the world. Take it from someone who knows.

The first thing I Saw was my death.

I’ll never forget it. I was ten years old - that’s usually when it starts to show - and my older sister Una was babysitting. She didn’t like the idea any more than I did, so we were doing the only thing that had been proven to work in this situation: Ignoring each other.

I was in the kitchen, trying to make myself dinner. As I struggled to cut the leftover beef from the previous night, the knife slipped and cut my finger. I didn’t think it was any big deal. I’d cut myself before and I knew how to deal with it. But as I watched the blood drip on the counter, everything went fuzzy for a moment. Then I thought I was seeing double. I didn’t move, but I saw my hands, suddenly rough and calloused and...larger? pick up the knife and aim it’s point at my ribcage.

I tried to grab the other hands but my fingers passed right through them. There was nothing I could do to about it. Except watch, as the hands plunged the knife into me half an inch below my heart.

I know now it wasn’t real, but it felt real. I screamed like the world was ending and fell back on the kitchen floor.

“Ferne,” Una called from the other room, “what did you do now?”

I couldn’t answer. I lay on the floor clutching my torso, gasping for breath, and trying to understand why the pain was gone.

“Ferne?” Now she came into the room and saw me and the blood on the counter.. “Did you cut yourself again? You are such a drama queen”

This was Una’s basic response to anything I did. As soon as she’d hit thirteen, she’d decided I was too babyish for her to associate with more than necessary. I don’t know when exactly I started hating her, but it was around then.

I guess I’m being too hard on her. It doesn’t matter how old she is these days. The number will never change. And at twenty-four, I’m the older sister now.

*Explosion. Running. Panting.*

I’m outside of what used to be Washington DC. It doesn’t look like much anymore. Just a pile of rubble. The only structure still standing was the Washington Monument. And that explosion in the background? It just went down. The radical thinkers, probably. They demand change but aren’t willing to do anything to bring said change about except terrorism.

Most people hate them. I don’t. I see them as scared individuals, just like the rest of us. They have a different way of expressing it, sure, but that doesn’t make them any less human.

I don’t blame them. I blame myself. And him.

Every time I see destruction like this, his face swims before my eyes. Golden curls, big blue eyes, innocent smile. The face of an angel. A face that can do no wrong.

Which goes to show how deceiving appearances can be.

I remember meeting him like it was yesterday.
The middle school cafeteria was as crowded and noisy as ever. We were all picking at something that vaguely resembled food, but flavorless. And unedible.

I was off by myself, banished to the far corner of the cafeteria ever since I Saw in the middle of class and came out of it on the ground clutching my head in agonizing pain while every other kid in the class (and the teacher) stared at me like they were wondering where my straightjacket was. And then, well, no one wants to be buddies with the crazy girl.

Anyway, it was a completely normal day. Until he sat down across from me.

My first thought was, Is he lost? Because no one in their right mind would sit with me. It was social suicide.

Then I thought, What if he isn’t in his right mind?

I was slightly flustered then and asked, “What are you doing?” before I could catch myself.

He raised an eyebrow. “Is this seat off-limits then?”

“Well, no,” I stammered, “but it’s probably not a good idea.”

“Why not? No one was sitting here and I don’t like seeing people alone.”

I stared at him for a moment. A couple tables away, the whispering had already started. “You’re new here, aren’t you.”

“Yes, actually.”

“Ah. Well, let’s just say it’s not a good idea socially to be seen with me.”

“Why? Who says?”

Before I could answer, Cass Wright made her way over to my table. As usual, she looked briefly at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. He 400 dollar designer shoes. Then she turned to him.

“Hey, there’s room at our table,” she gushed. No doubt she believed herself his savior.

“That’s all right,” he responded. “This seat’s fine.”

Cass gaped like a fish. “No, come on. You don’t want to sit with her.”

“And, why not, exactly?”

“Because she’s crazy!” Cass didn’t even bother to lower her voice. My face went hot. I hated her. “Everyone knows it. She has hallucinations. Thinks she can see the future.” You have to understand that by then, some of what I’d Seen had come true and I’d put two and two together. Then I’d made the mistake of letting that information slip.

He didn’t even bat an eye. “And how do you know she can’t?”

That brought Cass to a screeching halt. “Excuse me, weirdo? No one can see the future.”

“Just because it’s never been proven doesn’t mean it’s not possible.”

Cass recovered as quickly as she could. “Never mind about coming to sit with us. I’m thinking maybe you belong here. You’re even crazier than she is.” She turned and flounced away.

“That was probably stupid,” I commented.

He shrugged.”I hate people like that. People who are always telling you where to go and who to be.” He held out a hand to me. “I’m Brennan. Brennan Roberts.”

I was starting to think maybe he was okay, in a slightly nerdy kind of way. I took his hand. “Ferne Steward.”

And we shook.

*A few moments of silence* I actually saw Cass again a few days ago. She was a skeleton, just bones and rags. No sign of the legendary beauty who had ruled the school not so long ago. She told me her family was killed in one of the early bombings.

She’s back with them now. She gave me a knife - the one I now hold - and begged me on her knees to kill her. So I did. And immediately threw up. I have no stomach for blood.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Brennan and I became close friends over the course of the rest of middle school. He was everything a friend should be: kind, funny, loyal. I should have realized he was too good to be true. But then, I hadn’t really had a friend in a while.

Then, in the middle of junior year of high school, I Saw again. And I changed the course of time.

Brennan’s parents were divorced. Nobody knew where his father had gone. His mother worked two jobs to support him. She drove our bus in the daytime and served tables at night.

That day, Brennan and I were leaving the building laughing, as usual. I was stiff after being shoved into a locker and left there for about half an hour (high school is rough territory) and my stuff was spilling out of my pack onto the ground. Brennan bent down to pick up some of my papers.

And then my vision flickered and my head began to pound. I leaned against the building for support.
I Saw a bus - our bus - careening off the road and down the side of a cliff. I couldn’t see (or capital S See) the bottom, but I knew no one was climbing out of that. And, somehow, I knew it was going to happen today.

Brennan put a hand on my shoulder. “Ferne? Are you okay?”

I thought about what I’d Seen.  How many would die? Would any survive?

And then I made my mistake.

I didn’t tell the driver, or the other kids. I knew they wouldn’t listen to me. But Brennan would. He always did.

So I said, “Brennan? How about we take my car home? You need to practice anyway. Your test is coming up” I’d gotten my licence five months before, but Brennan still had another few weeks before his driving test.

He shrugged. “Okay. Just let me tell my mom.”

The bus crashed, just like I’d Seen. Seven kids were killed. No one avoided injury. Brennan’s mother was permanently disabled and declared unfit to care for him anymore.

She died a couple months ago.

Brennan was put in the foster care system because no one could find his father. I only saw him one more time. I went to see him the day before he left. He was quick to accuse me of having Seen what happened to the bus. I couldn’t deny it.

Brennan cursed at me. “You could have warned them! You could have saved them! But all you did was get me into a car and away from that bus. You let them die! You let my mother get hurt!”

“It’s not like that,” I protested. “You know they’d never have listened to me!”

“YOU DIDN’T EVEN TRY!”

All I could do then was cry. Because he was right.

He swung his suitcase over his shoulder. “My world is gone. Because you didn’t say anything.” Brennan’s eyes were crazed with grief. “So I’m gonna tear everyone else’s apart.” He pushed past me and walked back toward the house.

“Brennan…” I said.

He didn’t look back.

He kept that promise. He did tear everyone else’s worlds apart. With a little help from the high-ranking government official he was fostered to. Brennan always was a clever boy. It didn’t take long for him to get World War Three started.

People died. Soldiers. Foreigners. Kids from school. My parents. Una.

And it’s all my fault. If I’d warned Brennan’s mother....

No. She wouldn’t have believed me. She’d just have told me she didn’t have time for my games.

But I could have let Brennan get on the bus. I feel sick just thinking about it, but if he’d died that day, this war would never have started in the first place. All these people would still be alive.

Even if he’d just been injured, he wouldn’t have thought I’d Seen. My betrayal was part of what ruined him.

This is why you never reveal the future. Life has a course and doesn’t like deviating from it. Save a life and you may end countless more.

One more will end tonigĥt.

I’m a coward. I know it. I can’t live with what I’ve done. There is no future. Not for me.

I have Cass’s knife. The same one from my first Sight.

Even fourteen years later, I can still see the blade. And those hands.

My hands.

It’s time.

It’s time for the Sight to come true.

*tape goes silent and then slowly comes to a stop*

Author's Note

So, this is me just trying out a different kind of story than the ones I usually take. Not entirely sure where it came from, but here it is. Reviews would be great; I'd love to know what I can do better here.

Reviews

[Zaliodir]

This is a great story, I loved it a lot. Its very dark, and sad. I really like how it feels rushed and haphazard. Which is good considering Ferne doesn't have much time. I would really love to see the whole story between 14 years ago and now. I couldn't really find any grammatical errors, and I am not a good enough rider to suggest how to improve your writing, but I really did enjoy it. Thank you.