I can do this. I can do this...

The naked wood froze the soles of my feet, yet that erratic thump inside my chest didn't lessen. I mimicked my brother's path while avoiding the grooves and dents within the worn flooring, a sense of dread gnawing inside of me.

"Derrick, wait--" I whispered, fear causing my hand to grab his arm even as my brain screamed in protest. It had taken me days to gather the courage to speak up, and endless hours to convince Derrick to do this.

Even in the sparse light, I could make out his massive height as he turned back to me. "You were the one who talked me into this shit, Cassie."

I stuttered, "I know--I know that. But if we're caught--"

Thick eyebrows, like magnets, furrowed above his brown eyes. "Do you think I want to go against him? Hell, this was your idea."

No shit, Sherlock. "I know, but--"

But as usual, his dismissal came swiftly as he argued, "You begged me to do this, Cass. You said we needed to know the truth. You even had Wes in my ear, so don't even think about bitching out now."

Wes talked to him? Yet, Derrick's black and blue checkered pajama bottoms faded into the shadows ahead of me before I could even comment.

Shit.

I took a deep breath, a list of reasons for why this had to be done playing on repeat in my mind.

Cassie, get a grip.

Sighing, I attempted to calm my tremor before I simply whispered, "Fuck it."

Once again, I copied my older brother's movements. And although the hallway had never seemed long, tonight this journey felt endless. But worry must have made me careless, clumsy. Because foolishly, my weight triggered the groan of aged wood, its sound slicing through the silence.

Our bodies froze. And for a second, hope withered within me just as fast as courage had been rallied.

Oh, God.

For in this house, disobedience was not a sin that was easily forgiven. In this house, my father's words were law. And at this corridor's conclusion, beyond the cracked door, those words had just died.

We were so fucking dead.

Quietness surrounded us.

And for a moment, I thought that this was over before it had even begun. Derrick's eyes shot daggers back at me. However, I was spared his wrath as the conversation resumed, its sound allowing us to breathe again.

Sorry, I mouthed, earning an eye-roll before he moved forward.

"Shh," came Derrick's urgent whisper as we crept past the twins' room.

Small comatose figures, lost in dreams, remained huddled upon matching pink beds. And to the right of us, the door that belonged to the youngest of my siblings remained blessedly closed. A small fissure separated little Maxie from this world; a habit that misleadingly assured him of his safety.

We dropped down onto all fours, crouched into positions we had not enacted since grade school. Then, at last, we came upon the edges of our parents' bedroom door.

"Once again, you're not hearing me, Samuel."

As we shifted closer, a lean figure became visible pacing back and forth by the bed. It was only as the candlelight's flicker danced across her brown skin that Mama's expression became clear.

And instantly, that dread once again began to sprout deep within my chest as doubt watered its roots. Because I knew that this wasn't good. That look on her face wasn't one of blind faith that she normally showed us, it was one of fear.

"What is it that I'm not getting, Jasmine? You tell me, what it is that you want me to do?" Dad asked, his body bathed in the window's moonlight; his blond hair like beacon partially shielding his weary expression.

"I want you to come to reality. Things aren't getting better here!"

Their words sounded so familiar...

Dad snorted, his blue eyes shifting back to the view. "You think I don't know that?"

"You certainly act like it. This is worse than when Travis was here. You heard Greg today. The government is done! If those crazy fucks haven't used bombs on what was there, what was left of the administration has fled into hiding. They're in survival mode just like everyone else. The guards are disappearing. There is no more protection on the streets."

What? My gasp was quickly smothered. We're unprotected? But Wes and I were just watching them from my window mere days ago. How is that even possible?

A larger hand slipped into mine, its touch causing my eyes to drift back to Derrick's. Yet, I couldn't understand what I saw. How could he appear so calm?

It's going to be okay, he mouthed before his focus returned to our parents.

Mama seemed to wilt onto the bed, her expression empty of the false optimism she normally projected. "Travis was right. We need to leave, Samuel."

"Don't go there, Jasmine. Travis freaked out, and Greg was repeating a rumor, not a fact. The truth is, we don't know that there is a place outside the city that's safer than where we are now. It's been seven months since the lights went out. Hell, even back when we could watch the news, you saw how the streets of the big cities were. Chicago, Los Angeles, New York, they were all overrun by gangs. Looting, killing, and God only knows what else. Do you really want to take a chance of running into that?"

And if they came here? I wanted to argue. What would we do then?

"No--" Mama began before she stopped. Graceful shoulders sunk from the weight of her worries. Long black hair, like a curtain, fell forward to hide her expression before she simply broke.

Mama, don't cry, I wanted to whisper. I had never heard that sound before, never witnessed so much distress.

Her image blurred, a haunting question plaguing me. Was our future that hopeless?

Dad took a seat beside her, his hand caressing her back. "Baby, you know that we have the kids to think of."

"I know."

"Plus, even if we could make it with Derrick and Cassie, what about the twins?" Dad reasoned. "Lexi clings to you at the idea of darkness."

"Sam--"

"Amanda still has me looking for monsters under the bed. And Maxie is too little to even understand what's going on." Dad's hand guided her chin until his eyes met hers. "How are we supposed to travel through that kind of mayhem, and guarantee their safety?"

"And how--" her voice cracked "--can you guarantee their safety if we stay here?"

His hand fell, frustration causing him to rise from the bed, but Mama's touch on his arm stopped him.

"I just can't shake this feeling, Samuel. I can't get rid of this feeling that something awful is about to happen."

God, she can feel too?

"This isn't that Bayou bullshit again, is it?" Dad spat, his insult of her heritage triggering her wince as if he had slapped her. "You said you gave up those backwater practices when you left Louisiana?"

The nails in my free hand dug deep into my palm as I silently encouraged, say something, Mama. For once, tell him to fuck off.

Her jaw clenched; her words quiet. "This has nothing to do with my upbringing."

"Are you sure, Jasmine? Because we both agreed that we wouldn't bring our kids up believing in that dark shit."

What he really meant was that he commanded, and she submitted like always.

Ignoring his comment, she continued, "Regardless of those beliefs, my Mama always taught me to follow my gut, Sam. And it's telling me that staying here isn't right."

"Baby look, you're worried, and I understand that. But--"

"But what, Samuel? Can't you see that other neighborhoods have been burned to the ground? And now, there will be no one to stop them."

Dad attempted to leave her side again, but her grip tightened. brought their clasped palms up within the candlelight until the two different pigments were visible. "They don't like people who are different."

Curls smacked my cheek in my hurry to meet my brother's eyes once more, but this time, his expression seemed pensive, almost stoic. Even if I didn't believe that we were safe, I needed someone to tell me that Mama and I were wrong. I needed my brother to tell me that the one thing that we couldn't change wouldn't condemn us. But it was Dad's laughter that finally freed me from my panic. Detaching himself from Mama's grip, her fears were dismissed as if she'd simply confessed to worrying about an unpaid bill rather than a threat to our lives.

"This is the year 2028 Jasmine, not the 1940's. No one in the state of Idaho, let alone this city, cares about interracial relationships anymore. Hell, half the block is mixed with something!"

"Yeah, then half the block should fear those crazy Anarchists and Purist activist groups just as much as I do! Hell, they decapitated President Donovan on live tv!"

"Will you keep your voice down--"

Pushing her hair out of her way, she cried, "Not until you take me seriously, Samuel. I am thinking of our babies."

"Oh, and I'm not?" He questioned. "It just comes down to this, Jasmine. Do you honestly think that I can't keep us safe?"

Was he fucking serious? This wasn't about Mama's faith in him. Couldn't he see the danger of staying in an unguarded neighborhood? Hell, what could one man do if a herd of looters trampled down our door?

Sighing deeply, Mama closed her eyes before her gaze wearily met Dad's again. "It's not about you keeping us safe, Sam. It's about that little black boy they found shot to death."

"Oh, here you go again, Jasmine. Did you ever stop to think that, that boy's death wasn't racially motivated? That he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?" he argued.

"No, Samuel. Because it doesn't explain why that little white kid was found strung up in retaliation. I know you want to see the world as blind to color, but tolerant people don't do things like that. That was hate, pure and simple. Now, imagine what those groups are going to do to a family that straddles both sides?"

"Jasmine--"

"And that happened when we still had guards."

Terrified, I repeated our mother's words, "We should leave."

Derrick's huff was all I needed to remind me of how similar he was to dad. His hand disconnected from mine only to purposely shove me aside. "Dad knows what he's talking about."

My mouth fell open. Was Derrick serious? Were we listening to the same conversation? Dad was scared, and his fucking false bravado was going to get us killed.

"Dad doesn't know shit," I said under my breath, but from my brother's clenched jaw I knew that he heard me even if he didn't reply.

"And what about Cassie? Her gift?" Mama suddenly questioned.

Once again, I stilled, waiting for his response.

"Gift?"

What can I say? Dad always had an uncanny talent for making me feel like shit. And as his thin upper lip curled in disdain, I knew that this moment would be no different.

"Her curse is not real, Jasmine. We've been over this. Cassie isn't some voodoo soothsayer," he taunted.

"I never said that she was--"

"Then why are you bringing it up? Huh? First, you keep talking about some feeling, and now Cassie has a gift? That girl ain't got nothing but an overactive imagination."

"Is that why you make her wear those gloves twenty-four seven?" Mama argued, that old spark finally returning to her eyes. "Why you haven't looked at her the same since Grace's diagnosis? Why we spent so much money on therapy?"

As if therapy could make me stop seeing the revulsion in your eyes, Dad.

"Look, Cassie is fine. We will all be fine. Jasmine, you just need to stop worrying. Derrick and I will start to keep a lookout tomorrow if it'll make you feel better."

Yet, Mama remained silent as if trapped in her thoughts.

Dad kneeled at her side like a white knight in some demented fairy tale. "Jasmine listen to me. We will be fine here. We'll protect our family, our home. The streets are silent. The curfew is still in effect."

A snort left his lips. "Hell, even Greg hasn't left. Do you really think that he'll get that hoarder wife of his out of her precious house?"

Mama's worried frown transformed into a weak grin.

"Jasmine, I promise you that I will keep us safe if it's the last thing that I do. Nothing and no one is going to harm us."

Oh, how his assurances sounded nice, but I couldn't help but think of them as just empty words, promises he'd never keep.

Hell, even the president once promised us prosperity. The military promised us protection. And now, Dad was promising us safety?

Was this our new America?

For in this new world, our motto had warped into united we rage but divided we survive.

Oh my god, that last line. I'm still trying to figure it, sorry lol.